Page 14 of Forget Me Not
“When,” both girls replied at the same time before turning to each other and nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, yeah. Now where is this wine at? Pretty sure when you came down here and disturbed my work you told me there was wine. And those fancy pretzels I like.” Syve goaded her friends with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised.
“It’s upstairs, and probably warm by now, you workaholic,” Aimi whined.
“No, I left it on the porch in the snow!” Cam bragged. “I knew better and there was just enough snow to cover all but the neck of the bottle! Kismet.” Cam sighed the last bit dreamily, causing Syve to roll her eyes and scoff playfully.
“Cameron Jo, you brilliant bitch—” Aimi cut herself off by stepping up to Cam, grabbing her face with both hands and planting a big, wet kiss on her cheek. “I think your husband doesn’t deserve you.”
Cameron guffawed and pushed Aimi away. “Oh, that reminds me! What’s up with the paw prints? Have you been feeding strays again?”
“It wasonetime! I thought the cat was homeless! How was I supposed to know I was being played by the cute little bastard?” Syve huffed in mock offense. “But wait, what do you mean? I haven’t even seen any strays lately.”
“You know? The prints all up and down the back porch and stairs?” Cam asked, confusion evident in her tone, and on her face. Syve stared at her for a minute before turning and walking straight to the stairwell leading to her loft.
“What the hell?” she muttered to herself moments later, standing on her back porch.
True enough, there were paw prints,bigpaw prints, leading up the stairs, around the porch, and then back down before disappearing in the shadows down the alley. Syve instantly thought of her dream the night before, about howthe wolf had followed her. She’d woken up from that dream and gone straight down to the shop, unable to go back to sleep. It must have been four in the morning before she shuffled back to bed, but she had noticed the fresh snow covering the porch when she walked by the window.
At some point between four AM, when she had returned to bed, and now, half past six at night, some canine had tromped all over. Syve’s first thought was how she would not be able to finish her clothing line while on the grippy sock vacation she would surely be taking for suggesting that the creatures from herdreamswere stalking her.
Maybe I need the vacation,shethought.
Bastien
Twelvehourslater,hestill didn’t know why he followed her home after all those nights he’d sat by her side, simply content to share her space and lend silent support. What made it worse was he hadn’t even tried to hide his light stalking, and she absolutely noticed.
Last night, he’d followed her to the alley where he sat silently, watching as she walked to a set of stairs as large snowflakes began to fall, quickly covering them both.
He averted his eyes when she started to shift, not sneaking a single glance. Though he was desperate to know who she was and seeing another shifter bare was not uncommon—modesty was rare in large shifter-groups—that wasusually in a consenting environment and not a creepy ‘I just followed you home’ one.
He remained long after he heard her bare feet crunching up the snow-covered stairs, her door squeaking open, then snicking shut. As the sun crept over the horizon, he stood, shook off a layer of snow, and bolted down the alley before padding up to her door.
Bas sniffed around the entire porch, peeked inside the window—the blinds surprisingly left open to reveal the tiny living room and most of the tiny kitchen. What was he looking for? What was his plan? What if she was still there, just inside the door and saw him? A million questions flashed across his mind, not a single one with an answer.
“I think that spot is cleaner now than it has ever been.”
Bastien’s head snapped up, meeting Hal’s suspicious gaze before glancing back down toward the counter he had been very diligently wiping.
“Sorry, Boss. Got a little lost in my head,” Bastien replied, wincing as he threw the used rag at the laundry bin, missing by a few feet.
“A little?” Hal teased.
“Hey, are there people who live downtown? Down here? I mean, up there?” Bastien gestured toward the ceiling, a confused grimace spreading across his face.
Hal stared at him for a moment, eyebrows raised before laughing once and responding.
“There are a few shops that have apartments upstairs. The Glass has one,” he said pointing down the street. “The post office, the bookstore, my seamstress, that nail salon…Oh! And that little Knick-knack shop Hattie just can’t stay out of!” Hal listed each location, counting on his fingers as he went. “Each one of them is lived in by the shopkeeper—except the post office, they made that one into an Airbnb a few years ago.”
“Hmm,” Bas mused. “I’m not sure how I didn’t know that already.”
“Honestly, I’m not surprised. It’s not like any of them are trying to advertise their home address.”
“Hold on, back up, did you say your seamstress?” Bastien asked incredulously. “You mean Hattie’s?”
“You heard me, Son! You don’t think I’ve been getting all these aprons and shirts from some big ol’ monopoly company, did you?” Hal scolded, gesturing to the polo he was wearing with the shop’s logo on it. “Syve’s been embroidering everything for me for years! In fact, she’s the one who keeps fixing that damn jacket of yours every time you catch it on the meat-hooks.”
“If you let me order the motor system, I wouldn’t have to shove the carcasses like a fuckin’ linebacker,” Bastien shot back, smiling as he threw his hands up.
