Page 2 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
Hayden grinned and helped himself up. “Thanks, Leonie.”
“Why were those guys picking on you?”
“Because they’re pathetic.”
“I knowthat,” Leonie rolled her eyes. “Jimmy went to my primary school and he was pathetic then too. Why was he picking onyou, though? You don’t look like his usual victims. You’re pretty good at sport and stuff.”
“I guess you wouldn’t know.” Hayden shifted uncomfortably. “Those guys hate shifters.”
He expected her to clam up and back away. He knew well enough what people said about his kind; the label had a stink to it. But instead of balking at the whiff, Leonie’s eyes lit up.
“So it’s true, then?” She lowered her voice. “What’s shifting like?”
“Uh, it—”
The bell rang, and Hayden’s unlikely saviour sighed. “At least we’re cooking instead of doing maths,” she said. “Let’s go.” She strode off so promptly it surprised him.
He was puffed by the time he caught up to her, something that would change eventually when his wolf set in properly. For now, he’d just have to deal with the embarrassment of struggling to keep up. As they headed back inside the school, he found an unexpected calm between gasps of breath, calm as if shifter-phobic bullies had been a figment of his imagination, calm like the kind he felt when running with his pack. His human sense began to spin again, and he steadied himself on a pillar as they rounded a corner. He had to ground himself quickly before exposing whatever wolf part decided to show up when he walked into the classroom.
“Hey, Leonie, wanna buddy up for cooking today?” The words crashed out of him. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.
Leonie held a finger to her cheek. “Hmm, I measure and you mix. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Then I would love to buddy up.” She gave him the brightest smile he’d swear he ever saw, and the back of his neck tingled.
* * *
Nearly a semester later, on a day without after-school music or maths tutoring, Hayden followed Leonie up a stone footpath flanked by perfect green lawn. An electric gate slid shut behind them while three wide-eyed honeyeaters watched from lilly-pilly bushes lining the fence. When the pair reached the front door, she froze and slapped a hand to her forehead.
“I just remembered we’re out of sugar,” she said. “We gotta go to Dewsons.”
“Don’t worry, I brought sugar.”
“You brought sugar? Do you just carry sugar around, weirdo?”
Hayden sneered playfully. “And I brought flour for the crust and vanilla essence. Mum said your folks shouldn’t have to pay for everything since this is for my music camp.”
“That’s so nice, Hayds. I didn’t even think of that!” Leonie seemed to drift through the chilly and spacious foyer, lined with family photos. Hayden followed her into a huge kitchen, ignoring a folded-up newspaper with a “SHIFTER HOME INVASION” headline on a dainty side table, and hurried the ingredients out of his bag.
Their friendship and cooking class partnership had formed at lightning speed since that first day, much to the delight of Leonie’s other best friend Samantha Jenkins. But he didn’t mind Sam’s teasing looks and furtive “ooohs” when shethought Hayden was out of earshot. He liked being Leonie’s buddy—he liked it a lot.
Cinnamon. Ginger. Nutmeg. Clove.
And that funny berry spice Hayden could never remember the name of. It all mingled together with the butter, sugar, eggs, pumpkin puree, and the enigmatic waft of a preheating oven. The kitchen smelled like heaven to his shifter senses, and it was all he could do not to roll over on the floor and just soak it up.
“What price should we set?” he asked, kneading the golden shortcrust dough. “How much would you pay for a tart?”
“A dollar.”
“It’s not 1924, Lee.”
“Very funny, Furball.” She flicked her wet hands at him, and his chest warmed at the nickname he’d earned by showing her a whisker once while washing dishes in the cooking room. “I meant a dollar if I was with my parents,” she clarified. “But we’d sell, like, twenty cos they buy in bulk.”
“That’s a good idea, we could do packs. How about two dollars for one and three for two?”
When the test batch was done, they sat on the back stoop, nibbling on blessedly fresh-baked pastry loaded with a spicy-sweet pumpkin filling.
