Page 3 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
“Where does cinnamon come from?” Leonie asked.
“I think it’s from a tree.”
“Like nuts?”
“Nah, cinnamon’s from bark.”
“Mm, delicious tree bark.”
Hayden snorted. “You’re weird, Lee.”
“I know. That’s why you love me.”
Her response struck him off-kilter and, once again, the world fell away. It seemed to do that more lately, most often when he hung around Leonie, even though his wolf had mostly set in. That word,love, wound its way into him. His animal skin tingled like when catching the scent of the pack two blocks from home.
He had to ground himself again before he shifted. He was sure by now Leonie wouldn’t mind, but he hated to lose control like some wild kid destined for trouble. The wolf in him wanted out so badly, but he knew the golden rule: only shift when you’re in control. Be the master of your body. It’s the only way to survive.
Hayden grinned. He had an idea. “Wanna see a cool trick?”
“Sure!”
He stood in the centre of a perfectly manicured patch of lawn beside a fenced-off swimming pool. “Chuck us a tart. Make it go really high.”
Leonie’s deft underhand sent a pastry flying. Hayden sprang up and embraced the shift, melting into the moment. His skin tingled with emerging fur, legs tensed as they changed shape, belly hide stretching in the mingled cold and heat of a sunny winter afternoon. The world grew louder, richer, deeper, all the sounds and smells saturating his canine senses. His jaws snapped shut on the pumpkin pie tartlet, the sweet-savoury-spice flavour filling him with delight, and he landed on all four paws and beamed at his human friend in the way only a wolf can beam.
Leonie squealed and clapped her hands, and Hayden just knew she’d be a friend for life. He trotted over to her, joy filling every fibre of his being. She put a hand out, tentatively, then drew it back.
“Is it okay if I . . . I mean . . .”
Hayden huffed. “Have you ever met a dog who doesn’t love a pat?”
“You can talk.”
“Of course I can talk. I’m still me. Go on.” He put his head under her hand, thrilled when she mussed the fur between his ears.
“Your tail is wagging, Hayds!”
A reflex in his left shoulder started shuddering when she scratched behind his ear. His tail threatened to sway him into an expensive-looking flower pot. He backed away, shrugging off an acrid smell he couldn’t place, and shifted back into human form, landing butt-first on the perfect lawn. “I’m still working on shifting back without falling,” he said, sheepishly.
“That’s amazing. I’ve never seen someone shift before.”
“I’ve never shown anyone before. Anyone who wasn’t also a shifter, I mean.”
“I understand.” Leonie nodded. It was harder to spot sincerity in humans—you couldn’t just suss the nose and ears and whiskers and tail—but somehow Hayden knew she meant it.
2
Present day
What happened to that feeling of home? Suitcase in hand, Leonie pulled her sleeves down at her front gate and looked back at the townhouse she’d shared with Mark since they married. She remembered feeling at home here once, but then lost it somewhere along the way. Maybe it was when Mark painted their red door white, saying he preferred a quieter look. The streaks from his DIY job still showed. As Leonie stepped out on the sidewalk, her phone rang.
“Sam, thanks for calling back.”
“So, you did it, then? Where are you?” Her best friend sounded worried.
“Just leaving the townhouse. Not loving that I’ll have to come back again for more stuff. He didn’t even look shocked, Sam.”
“Is he with you now?”
