Page 7 of Chasing Stripes (Enchanted Falls #3)

SEVEN

B artek nodded, trying to focus on Haavi’s report, but the restlessness beneath his skin intensified with each passing minute. Something tugged at his awareness—a magnetic pull urging him to turn toward the large front windows. Toward the street. Toward...

“Freezer installation is complete. Health inspection scheduled for Thursday.” Haavi paused, narrowing his eyes. “The flying monkeys will arrive at midnight to redecorate in hot pink and chartreuse.”

“Sounds good,” Bartek murmured distractedly.

“And I’m actually a fairy princess in disguise.”

“Make sure the— What?” Bartek’s head snapped up, golden-brown eyes narrowing.

Haavi snorted. “Just checking if you’re still with me. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the last minute.”

Irritation flashed across Bartek’s face, directed more at himself than at Haavi. “I heard you. Sign tomorrow, health inspection Thursday.”

“And the part about Mimi inviting you to dinner this weekend? The twins have been asking about their ‘Unca Bartek’ nonstop.”

Guilt squeezed Bartek’s chest. Between managing the pride and launching the new bar, he’d barely seen his nieces in weeks. Lily and Jade, with their mischievous grins and half-formed tiger growls, had wormed their way into his heart from the moment of their birth.

“Tell Mimi I’ll be there.” The words emerged gruffer than intended.

Haavi continued scrolling through his tablet, but a knowing smile played at his lips. “She said to remind you that playtime with the girls is mandatory. No discussions of pride finances allowed.”

“My sister seems to forget who signs the checks that keep her cubs in those ridiculous sparkly shoes they love.”

“Pretty sure she remembers exactly who bankrolls the tiger-striped light-up sneakers.” Haavi’s eyes twinkled. “She also mentioned that her big, scary alpha brother looks adorable with glitter in his hair.”

The memory of his last visit surfaced—Jade’s insistence that Uncle Bartek needed “pretty sparkles” to match her own craft project. Even now, weeks later, he occasionally found flecks of pink glitter in his shower drain.

Before Bartek could respond, the pull toward the windows intensified, becoming nearly impossible to ignore. Something—or someone—called to him with an urgency that made his tiger stir beneath his skin.

“Keep going through the list,” he managed, fighting the compulsion to turn.

But the need only grew stronger like an invisible hook lodged beneath his ribs, reeling him slowly but inexorably toward the front of the bar. His inner tiger, normally content to remain dormant during business hours, surged forward with unexpected ferocity.

Turn. Look. See.

The imperative thundered through him with such force that resistance became futile. Bartek pivoted toward the windows, his gaze drawn like a lodestone across the street to Honeycrisp Bakery.

His tiger senses detected something unusual about the bakery’s location—the way magical currents converged beneath it, creating a nexus that other supernatural residents seemed oblivious to. His father had once mentioned something about founding families choosing their locations strategically. Perhaps there was more to the quaint bakery than appearances suggested.

Time stopped.

A woman stood on the sidewalk outside the bakery, golden hair capturing the light like living flame. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the simple movement holding the grace of wind through summer wheat. Even from this distance, he could detect her unique scent carried on the morning breeze—cinnamon and vanilla layered over something wild and green like forest after rainfall.

But beneath those surface notes lay something else entirely—something that called directly to his primal core. Magic. Fae magic, rich and intoxicating, woven through her very essence.

The effect slammed into him like a physical blow. His knees nearly buckled as every tiger instinct roared to life at once, clawing for release. Heat flooded his system, searing through his veins and pooling low in his belly. His canines lengthened involuntarily, pressing against his lower lip with painful insistence. His vision sharpened to supernatural acuity, the world narrowing to that single golden figure across the street.

Mine.

The thought—primal, possessive, absolute—shocked him with its intensity. He’d never experienced anything remotely like this overwhelming response. Not with any lover, not with any potential mate the pride had subtly pushed his way over the years.

With titanic effort, Bartek wrenched back control from his tiger side, forcing his canines to recede and his breathing to steady. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead from the exertion of containing the beast that had, until this moment, always submitted to his will.

“Well,” Haavi’s voice came from what seemed like miles away, though he stood just behind Bartek’s shoulder. “That answers that question.”

The amused observation snapped Bartek back to reality. Mortification crashed over him as he realized Haavi had witnessed his unprecedented reaction. He schooled his features into practiced neutrality, but the damage was done.

“What question?” His voice emerged rougher than intended, almost a growl.

“Whether the mighty Bartek Arbor, alpha of alphas, scourge of the Western Mountains, could possibly be affected by something as mundane as attraction.” Haavi’s grin widened. “Turns out the answer is yes—quite dramatically.”

Heat crawled up Bartek’s neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because your eyes are still glowing amber, and I’m pretty sure I heard wood cracking when you gripped the bar just now.” Haavi nodded toward Bartek’s hand, where his fingers had indeed left slight indentations in the supposedly indestructible surface.

Bartek pulled his hand away as if burned. “I’m surveying the competition.”

“Ah yes, the bakery-bar rivalry. Tale as old as time.” Haavi’s eyes danced with barely suppressed laughter. “Strange, I don’t remember you ‘surveying the competition’ quite so intensely at our other locations. Must be something special about Enchanted Falls bakeries.”

“Don’t you have inventory to check?” Bartek growled desperate to escape Haavi’s knowing gaze.

“Already done.” Haavi leaned against the bar, making himself comfortable. “Which leaves me plenty of time to enjoy this fascinating new development. Tell me, is it the apron that does it for you, or the flour dusting her nose?”

“Haavi.” The single word carried a weight of authority that would have sent any other tiger shifter scrambling for cover.

Haavi merely raised an eyebrow. “That’s the tone that makes new pride members pee themselves, but I’ve known you since you had braces and a regrettable haircut. You’ll have to try harder.”

Fifteen years of friendship had earned Haavi immunity to Bartek’s intimidation tactics. As both brother-in-law and trusted lieutenant, he occupied a unique position in Bartek’s life—perhaps the only person who could get away with such teasing.