Page 8 of Bread by the Grim (Ghostlight Falls #4)

Phil

I don’t know if I do a good enough job at pretending I don’t need him to come with me, but after a few, “I’ll be okays,” I let Grim wear me down. And by wear me down, I mean I try not to jump at the excitement of getting to go somewhere with him after work.

It will still be work—we’ll be delivering the cake I’ve spent the past week working on to the Performing Arts Center—but it will be a chance to see Grim out in the real world away from this tiny little world of the bakery we live in most of the time.

Since I started the job, I haven’t really been out of the bakery to get a look around town.

Grim adds Doux’s food and litter to the grocery order he gets once a week, along with anything I need, and there’s always extra food at the end of the night to munch on, so there hasn’t been a real reason to leave until now.

Excited for my first trip out, I throw on a loose dress, tie up my hair, and make my way out to the kitchen as Doux ignores my pets in favor of fighting with his favorite stuffed mouse.

I’m probably a little too excited to get to the venue.

I rush up the stairs to the kitchen and push through the door a little too fast, running full force into Grim’s chest. His arms wrap around me, steadying me as our eyes meet.

I can’t help the sudden intake of breath as our bodies meet.

His chest is hard against my breasts, and I can’t help the fleeting thought that passes through the back of my mind—what would it be like to lay on top of him?

To be able to wake up next to him and lay in bed curled up in his arms?

His whole body seems to shiver, and then he steps back, his arms dropping to his sides. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—I-I didn’t want you to fall.”

I smile. “You’re always saving me.”

He runs a hand through his hair and meets my eyes. “You, uh, look nice.”

“Thanks! I know we’re just delivering a cake, but I figured I was representing the bakery. I wanted to make a good impression on our clients.”

He takes a few more steps back and looks away. The mood in the room shifts. “You’ve already made a good impression on the customers. They love you. ”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward as he puts more space between us.

“I’ve got everything loaded up already, if you’re ready to go,” he says, backing up to the door.

Guilt creeps into my belly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spent so much time getting ready. I won’t let that happen again.”

He just looks at me strangely and shakes his head. “Phil, this is important to you, so it’s important to me. Don’t apologize. You did all the work. The least I can do is load the cake into the truck.”

He motions for me to step through the back door first, and so I do.

His truck—older than us both—is sitting outside.

In the bed, he has set up a piece of plywood for the boxes to rest on.

A wooden frame has been fitted into the bed on top of the plywood base.

It surrounds the cake boxes, keeping them secured in the center of the bed.

“This is smart,” I say, touching the frame.

Grim just shrugs. “I don’t have a van to do a proper delivery, so I wanted to make sure the cakes arrived safe and sound. I just hammered together a couple pieces of plywood.”

I turn to him in disbelief. “You made this? Just so I can deliver cakes?”

He looks slightly embarrassed. “It’s nothing, really.”

I have to stop myself from hugging him. I’ve already made him feel weird once today. “Grim, I really appreciate the support.”

“It’s what friends do.” He comes around the passenger side of the truck and opens the door for me. “The door is old and weird. If you can’t get out, I’ll come around and open it for you, too. Sorry it’s so rough.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I’ve ridden in far worse. My mama had a car with rust holes in the floorboards. I think I can survive a weird door.”

We buckle up, and because we’re early, Grim drives me around the small square that comprises most of the old part of downtown so I can get the lay of the land.

The shops on the main square are adorable.

There’s even a cute little pet shop a block over called Ruff N’ Tumble that I can hit for Doux’s supplies.

He’s been needing a new bed and some toys to ignore.

“There’s more to Ghostlight Falls, but this is the touristy part. We’ll be getting a lot more people in as it gets closer to summer because the Wonder Hole is so close.”

That stops me. “Did you say the Wonder Hole?”

A half smile crosses his face. “You don’t know about the Wonder Hole? You didn’t see all the signs coming in from the airport?”

“It was dark, and Doux was losing his mind.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would be distracting. The Wonder Hole is a giant hole in the ground that people come to see. But mostly it’s a tourist trap—huge gift shop, restaurant, clean bathrooms—right off the highway.”

“A giant hole in the ground?” I can’t help smiling back. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look anything close to amused.

“Yeah, you walk around and around and around for like twenty minutes just to get to the bottom. If you make it all the way to the bottom and back, there’s a little stamp you can use to mark the back of your ticket.

You take it to the gift shop, and they give you a little button you can wear that says, ‘I bottomed out at the Wonder Hole.’”

I huff a laugh. “You’re joking.”

“One hundred percent serious. I’ll take you sometime. We’ll get you a button.”

I bite my tongue to keep from saying, “It’s a date.” Instead, I just smile and say, “I look forward to it.”

He grins and turns his attention back to the road.

The wedding venue is the Ghostlight Falls Performing Arts Center, an old building not far from the main part of downtown.

It’s a beautiful two-story structure with a balcony that overlooks the road.

Parking is in the back, but Grim turns his emergency lights on and parks on the road, closest to the door.

He takes the base of the cake, while I take the two smaller tiers, and heads inside.

We take the elevator to the second floor and find ourselves in a breathtaking ballroom. “This is beautiful,” I say as we step out of the elevator.

“Isn’t it?” Grim says. “It’s been around since the late 1800s. I think it’s booked all year for weddings.”

“You could be making some big money from cakes.”

He shakes his head. “I have the drawing ability of a five-year-old. YOU will make some big money from these cakes.”

We set the cakes down on a table, and while Grim stands guard, I hunt down the event coordinator.

She signs for the cakes and points us in the direction of where to set up.

Thankfully, the bride and groom went fairly traditional with the cake.

It’s a white buttercream cake with roses trailing down the sides.

They provided their own topper—a tiny human woman next to a tall goat-man.

I pull the topper out of the box, and Grim makes a noise.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly alarmed.

He shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s fine. We should probably hurry so we’re not here when the wedding party gets here.”

I look at him for a few seconds longer, not quite sure I believe him, before turning back to the cake.

It looks perfect. I take a few pictures with my phone from different angles as Grim gets more and more antsy, get approval for the setup from the event coordinator, and turn to move to the elevator.

Unfortunately, Grim concerns prove to be right.

There are people coming off the elevator just as we walk up to it.

A small group of people in fancy dresses and suits steps off the elevator.

Most are human. Except for one. A tall goat-man steps off.

From the looks of him, he’s probably not the groom unless this is a huge age-gap relationship.

Gray hair sits at his temples. His eyes fall on Grim, and both men stop in their tracks.

Tension suddenly crackles between them.

“What are you doing here?” the goat-man demands, his hands already at his tie. Is he seriously about to start a fight?

Grim steps in front of me. “We’re just delivering a wedding cake.”

“We don’t want your cake,” the goat-man’s voice is a rumble, his face twisted in anger.

“Now, Arnold–” a woman at his side starts.

“Sir, the cake is already paid for. I spent years in culinary school. I can assure you that—” I try to explain.

His eyes never leave Grim. “We don’t want your wedding cake,” he repeats, cutting me off.

“Dad, it’s not your wedding,” a young woman at his side says with a sigh. I look over at her and realize she’s not entirely human. She looks a lot like the woman at Arnold’s side but has the ears and horns of a goat.

She turns to us and shakes her head. “Thank you. The cake looks beautiful. They’ll love it. Dad, we’re going to go sit down.”

“You can’t trust a monster like that with your food. He probably spit in it or put salt in it.”

That is a little too far. I have no idea what this man’s problem is, but I will not let him speak ill of my cake.

“Sir, I spent years in culinary school to learn how to do my job. I have never been accused of tampering with food. I have always used the highest quality ingredients and always adhere to the strictest of cleanliness standards–”

The young woman shakes her head. “It’s fine. Ignore him. He’s just being–”

Grim and Arnold haven’t taken their eyes off of each other this entire time. What bad blood do they have between them that they look ready to fight in a ballroom?

“GET OUT NOW!” Arnold demands through clenched teeth. I put a hand on Grim’s arm. He’s shaking, practically seething with anger. His arms feel tight as if the muscles beneath the flesh are spasming.

“Grim, we should go,” I tell him. I thread my fingers through his, and that seems to catch his attention. He looks down at our hands, then meets my eyes. He turns back to Arnold, hisses, and then pulls me to the elevator. Thankfully, it’s empty.

He drags me into the elevator and grabs onto the railing, collapsing against the wall.

Scared he’s about to fall over or pass out, I pull him in my arms. For once, he doesn’t try to back away.

He wraps his arms around me and leans his head against my shoulder.

His breathing is ragged and shallow, as if he’s been running miles.

I run my hands down his back and hit bumps along his spine.

Has he always had them? Have I just never noticed?

No.

That’s the thing. I’ve only been here two weeks, but I’ve noticed everything about Grim. I’ve definitely never noticed swelling along his spine.

“Grim, where’re the keys? We need to get you to the ER. You have huge lumps on your back.”

He says nothing. He just shakes his head, his face buried in the crook of my neck.

“It’s not—” He pauses for a long moment just as the elevator opens. The ding of the door seems to pull him out of whatever mood he’s in. He steps back abruptly and looks away. He’s hunched over, and his breathing is heavy.

“Phil, you cannot be around me when I’m like this.”