Page 28 of Chasing Stripes (Enchanted Falls #3)
TWENTY-EIGHT
B artek cleared his throat. “I noticed someone watching the bakery. Seemed suspicious.”
Her expression shifted to concern, gaze darting to the windows. “Thaddeus…”
She trailed off, absently touching her waist where his handprints glowed beneath her flour-dusted apron. The gesture drew his gaze, a possessive satisfaction burning through him at the sight of his marks still visible on her. Heat pooled low in his belly at the realization that she hadn’t tried to remove or conceal them.
“Too far away for me to be sure.” He dragged his eyes away, forcing his thoughts toward business. “The council directive,” he began, fighting to keep his voice steady, “do you have time to discuss it now?”
“Of course,” she nodded, a rose-pink flush spreading across her cheeks. “I’ve already started some test combinations. They’re in the kitchen.”
She led him through the swinging door into a warm space filled with copper mixing bowls, marble countertops, and rows of cooling racks. Pastries and small bottles of spirits lined the central island—clearly she’d been preparing for this meeting.
“I thought we could start with flavor profiles,” she explained, moving to the sink to wash her hands. “See which of your signature drinks complement which pastry bases.”
Bartek nodded, trying to focus on her words rather than the graceful movement of her fingers through the water or how the kitchen lights caught golden highlights in her hair. Her scent intensified in the enclosed space—vanilla and cinnamon now laced with a subtle undercurrent of desire that his tiger recognized instantly.
The kitchen should have provided ample room for two people, yet somehow the space had shrunk to nearly nothing. He found himself standing close behind her as she dried her hands, near enough to detect the subtle acceleration of her heartbeat.
“We should try them together,” she continued, turning suddenly and finding herself mere inches from his chest. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating as she looked up at him. “The flavors, I mean.”
The handprints at her waist glowed through her apron, bright enough to cast golden shadows on the countertop. Bartek’s own palms tingled in response, the marks there pulsing in perfect synchronization with hers.
“Right,” he managed, his voice rougher than intended.
She moved to the counter, putting necessary distance between them. “I thought we’d start with these spiced honey cakes. They might pair well with your oak-aged bourbon.”
Their fingers brushed as she handed him a small plate. A spark of energy—half magical, half purely primal—passed between them, causing the pastries across the counter to rise several inches off their trays.
“Sorry,” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. The gesture drew his attention to the delicate curve, confirming his earlier observation—the left was indeed more prominently pointed than the right. “My magic’s been a bit unpredictable lately.”
“Mine too,” he admitted, showing her his palms where the golden shimmer had brightened at her proximity.
Her gaze fixed on his hands, something like wonder crossing her features. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” The honesty surprised him. “It feels warm. Like sunlight.”
The moment stretched between them, intimate and charged with unspoken possibilities. The scent of her arousal intensified, mingling with his own to create an intoxicating perfume that filled the small kitchen.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking the spell. A text from Rust: Don’t forget tonight. We’re bringing the poker chips you HAVEN’T bent out of shape while thinking about your baker.
“Problem?” Artemis asked, her voice slightly breathless.
“No, just—” Bartek hesitated. “I host a monthly gathering for friends tonight. I should finish setting up.”
Was that disappointment that flashed across her face? “Of course. We have weeks to figure this out.”
Weeks of charged proximity. Weeks of fighting his instincts and his growing fascination with her. Bartek wasn’t sure whether to dread or anticipate their collaboration.
“I’ll bring more spirits tomorrow,” he offered. “For a broader sampling range.”
Her smile made something in his chest tighten. “I’ll prepare additional pastry bases.”
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, neither quite ready to end their brief encounter.
“Until tomorrow, then,” he finally said, reluctantly turning toward the door.
“Bartek?” Her voice stopped him. “The handprints... what do you think they mean?”
The question danced too close to territory he wasn’t prepared to explore—mate bonds, magical compatibility, the ancient tales of fated pairs whose energies resonated in harmony.
“Probably just an unusual reaction between shifter and fae magic,” he offered instead, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.
She nodded, but the way her fingers traced the outlines at her waist suggested she wasn’t convinced. Neither was he.
When Bartek left the bakery, the stranger in the dark suit had disappeared, but the sense of being watched lingered. He cast one final glance at Artemis through the window, catching her staring after him with an expression that mirrored his own confusion and longing.
His tiger growled in satisfaction. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
Now he just needed to figure out what to do about it.