Page 32 of Forget Me Not
With the most mocking tone he could have possibly mustered, Cyrus said, “Eyes up, watch your back, don’t be stupid, stay out of the open—” then his tone changed, suddenly serious. “I know.” And then he abruptly hung up.
Bastien sighed and pocketed his phone.
Of course he knew.
Without exposing their secret to the world, there was no way they could have told any non-shifter that Dez had been murdered, since he had been shot in wolf form. But, if there was anyone in the world who could understand the pain it caused the Yerovi’s, it was Cyrus.
Cyrus, who had been Dez’ roommate since freshman year of college.
Cyrus, who paid for an entire kitchen renovation for Mama for her birthday.
Cyrus, who never forgot to send a present for every single one of Delanira’s birthdays.
Cyrus understood because heknewand he knew, because he came from an ancient line of bear shifters—he was one of them.
Bastien physically ran out the door after closing up, not slowing until he turned the corner and put Sew It Seams in his sights.
Silently, the door pushed open, surprising him. He expected a bell of some kind. He eased the door shut behind him and stuffed his hands in his pockets, taking a moment to catalog the business.
Multicolored walls with black and white photos hung all about and in the center of the room sat possibly the single largest worktable he had ever seen.
It was not until his second pass over the massive island and the mountains of fabric it held, that he even noticed Syve. She was hunched over at the far end, barely visible amongst the neatly folded piles, auburn hair amassed in a haphazard blob on top her head which was ducked low, putting her at eye level with her hands as she deftly stuck pin after pin into what looked to be a small jacket.
This was a side of her he had not yet seen—having only seen her previously in some level of distress. What he saw now was a woman consumed with her craft and she was, without question, breathtaking.
The thought was so sudden it sent him staggering back a step. He had not been so blind as to miss her allure from the first moment he had seen her that day at The Glass, but he’d been so focused on the grief she wore—so thick you could feel its caress just by standing close—he hadn’t taken the time to reflect on it.
Syve stuck one more pin into her work with a flourish and sank back into her chair, an accomplished sigh slipping from her lips.
He chose that moment to break the silence.
“What are you working on, Bambi?”
She startled violently, cursing.
“Dammit all, Bastien! You scared the hell out of me!” She groaned, stretching as she stood and setting her work down on the counter in front of her. “Do that again and you’ll be getting one of those bell collars they put on cats!”
Bas raised his eyebrows. “You want to put a collar on me? That’s a little forward, don’t you think?”
Syve gaped at him, cheeks flushing.
He let her flounder a second longer before saying, “Relax, Bambi, it was a joke. What are you working on?”
After she recovered, she responded, “Oh, just some stuff. I won’t bore you with it—”
He cut her off. “It’s not a bore to me. Besides, I did ask.”
With a shrug he stepped closer. It bothered him that she was so quick to dismiss something she was so passionate about.
“Well…if you insist.” She eyed him then, no doubt trying to determine if he was being sincere. “You can hang your coat on the rack there, unless you’re cold.” She pointed just over his shoulder. “I’ve been keeping it a little chilly in here out of spite and I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”
Eyebrow raised he asked, “You’ve been keeping it cold…out of spite? For who? Your heater?”
She flinched, recovering so quickly he almost missed it. Odd. He would need to circle back to that later.
“It’s kind of a long story, actually. Anyway, come over here if you’re serious and I’ll show you what I’ve got going on. I’m really proud of this one.”
Again, she abruptly changed the subject. She was good at that. He let it be, choosing instead to relinquish his jacket to the rack before making his way over to her.
