Page 5

5

CONNOR

T he food at The Pie Shop is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. I don’t say that lightly, either—before I went to prison, I led a privileged life. I’ve been to restaurants with three Michelin stars and steak houses where there was nothing under a hundred dollars on the menu. But after three years of prison slop, the food in front of me is more than gourmet—it’s fucking ambrosia.

It feels strange to eat with metal silverware again. In prison, we always got plastic—it’s way too easy to stab someone with a metal fork or sharpen a spoon into a shiv. The metal feels unfamiliar in my mouth but whatever—this is just part of the taste of freedom.

I inhale both plates and drink the sweet tea which Sunny keeps refilling. It’s not too sweet, which is nice. Just as I’m finishing up, she comes to sit across from me in the red vinyl booth and puts down two pieces of pie.

“There you go— Strawberry Streusel , just like I promised you,” she says, smiling. “ And that other one is today’s special pie— Blueberry Bacon .”

“Blueberry Bacon ?” I repeat, raising my eyebrows. It sounds like a strange combination.

Sunny gives me an impish grin, her pert, freckled nose wrinkling.

“Doesn’t sound very good, does it? But it is, I promise. Go on—try it.”

I’m getting really full, but I’m not about to say ‘no’ to her pie—not after all the letters she wrote me describing the many different kinds she makes. I’ve been wanting to eat her pie for years now—which sounds really dirty, but get your mind out of the gutter. I’m pretending to be her big brother.

I take a bite of the Blueberry Bacon pie and I’m surprised at how delicious it is. It’s made with fresh blueberries in a light, flaky crust sprinkled with tiny, crispy bits of bacon and the whole thing is topped with fresh maple whipped cream. It’s fucking amazing.

“This is fucking amazing,” I say to Sunny as I shovel in another bite.

“See, I told you!” She grins at me, looking so damn adorable I want to lean across the table and…and what?

She’s supposed to be your little sister, I remind myself again. But there’s something about her—something about the way she felt in my arms when I held her. And something about her scent too—it made my inner Wolf perk up. Which doesn’t make any sense—she’s human, I’m sure of it. It had to be Kane’s father who was a Were . If his and Sunny’s mother had any Were blood at all, it was probably diluted.

But the way her soft, curvy body felt against me when she launched herself into my arms and her warm, feminine scent… I try to push the forbidden thoughts away.

I’m sure if anybody else had run at me that way, I would have gone into defensive mode at once. Living in prison, you learn to watch your back. But Sunny didn’t feel like a threat—she felt warm and she smelled so sweet. I can still feel her eager kisses all over my face…

“…ask if my friend Annabelle can come cover my dinner shift,” Sunny says and I realize that I missed something she said.

“Uh, what? Sorry , I was focusing on the pie,” I lie and take a bite of the Strawberry Streusel —it’s even better than the Blueberry Bacon .

“I said I’m going to get someone to cover my shift so we can go back to my place and get reacquainted,” Sunny tells me.

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your work,” I protest. “ I really just stopped by to say hello and try some of your famous pie.”

“You want to leave already?”

Sunny pouts—an absolutely adorable expression on her sweet face. She pushes out her lush lower lip and makes sad eyes at me. Then her expression changes—gets more determined.

“You don’t think you’re just going to eat my pie and then walk out on me, do you?” she demands. “ I don’t think so, big brother— I’ve been waiting years for this reunion and it’s not nearly over yet.”

She’s a bossy little thing— I kind of like that.

“Well…okay,” I said. It can’t hurt to go see her house and chat some. Her letters kept me going in prison and gave me hope—the least I can do is takes some time to “catch up” with her.

Sunny doesn’t wait to hear any more. She goes up to talk to the cook and owner of The Pie Shop , who just goes by “ Cookie .” I know all about him from her letters. He’s a veteran and outwardly gruff but according to Sunny , he’s a “marshmallow inside.”

Apparently he really is a softy because even though I can hear him grumbling, Sunny comes back with a wide smile on her adorable face.

“Come on.” She tugs at my arm, pulling me up to a standing position. “ Let’s go.”

“I have my truck out back—should I follow you?” I ask her.

She shakes her head.

“No need— I just live down the street.” Oh right—she did tell me that. She’s within walking distance of work, which is nice.

“Okay.” I nod through the back window at Cookie as we leave and he nods back grudgingly. We walk out the front door of The Pie Shop and take a right, heading down the sidewalk.

As we walk, Sunny links her arm through mine and looks up at me.

“Come on, Big Brother —let’s go home.”

She’s so much shorter than me, the top of her head doesn’t even reach my shoulder but I find I like feeling her beside me. I like her arm through mine even more.

I’ve been avoiding physical touch for so long—in prison, getting physical with someone almost always means violence. But with Sunny , it’s warm and comforting and sweet— I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who lives up to their name better than her. So even though I promised myself I’d only stay for pie, I let her lead me along willingly.

Apparently we’re going home.