Page 42 of Forget Me Not (The Shifters of Timberfall #1)
Syve
Aimi’s black and blonde space buns bounced around behind the counter as she and Toni tackled the morning rush.
Legs tucked under herself, Syve waited from her spot on the little green sofa for her friend to return. She had just finished telling Aimi about everything that had transpired the night prior when dozens of patrons poured in for their daily AM brew.
Before walking down to The Glass, Syve and Bas had parked her old truck and his Jeep behind the loft. She had led him inside and given him the option to watch TV upstairs instead of freezing in the shop, then warned him it would likely be a half hour or more before she returned.
Bas said he already assumed ‘a quick coffee run’ between Syve and Aimi would take at least that long, if not more—especially with the news Syve would be sharing.
They agreed during that morning’s pillow talk that Aimi would be allowed to know, mostly because Syve refused to keep a secret from her best friend, but also because her brother was a lawyer and that meant she had insider knowledge of ways they could legally take Gunther down.
The last reason was because Cyrus was missing and of everyone in town, Aimi was the most likely to see him.
“Bitch, you need at least twelve extra shots, but I don’t want you to have a heart attack,” Aimi said, presenting Syve with one of her signature extra-large to-go mugs, steam spilling from the top. “So, I put in three.”
She plopped onto the sofa, careful not to spill her own drink. Syve huffed, amused and wrapped her hands around her coveted coffee.
“So, any ideas?” Syve asked.
Aimi opened her mouth but Syve quickly added, “ legal ideas.”
Aimi snapped her jaw shut with a frown.
The women sat back-to-back on the couch for a few minutes, each scouring the internet on their phones for anything useful.
Syve learned that even with evidence of poaching in Montana, the defendant would, at worst, only receive six months of jail time, possible seizure of their firearms and a lifetime revocation of their hunting rights.
When she shared that news over her shoulder she had been met with a string of very creative expletives.
“I’m not going to lie to you right now. It’s a real shame Butcher boy wasn’t able to—you know.
I wouldn’t feel bad or miss the guy, personally.
In fact, after hearing what he did to you, I dare him to walk in here so I can finish the job myself—the audacity!
To put his nasty ass mouth on yours—makes me want to gargle bleach. ”
Her animated rant had her shaking the entire couch as she carried on, arms waving chaotically.
A ringing phone cut Aimi off and she shifted to put her chin on Syve’s shoulder. The two looked at the phone, still ringing in Syve’s hand.
“Who is it?”
“Dunno, I don’t recognize the number. It’s a 406…so, local? I should probably—Hello?”
She answered before Aimi could convince her not to. On the other end, a lady by the name of Eva spoke quickly, as if she had somewhere far more important to be. Syve froze at her words, convinced she was hearing them wrong.
“Tomorrow morning, 9:30 a.m., yes, I can be there. Thank you!” She ended the call and blinked.
The curiosity and anticipation rolling off of Aimi was palpable.
“Well?” Aimi prodded .
“It was the assistant in charge of scheduling applicants for the grant. Apparently, even though I wasn’t able to submit my final proposal, they still want me to come in and present.”
“Syve! That’s incredible! Did they say why? Actually, who cares why, you have to go, right now! Get everything together, you have to be up early! Do you have something to wear? That’s a silly question, you’ll wear one of your pieces, naturally.”
Aimi tugged Syve off the couch, leaving her own coffee on the table in favor of pushing her friend toward the door.
“Don’t forget your lucky pigtails and if you don’t call me the second you walk out of that meeting, I swear on my Chuck’s, Syve—”
Toni leaned over the counter as they passed, handing over a new cup, an Americano for Bastien. Before she knew it, Syve was standing on the sidewalk, a cup in each hand and the door clicking shut behind her.
Once back at her shop, Syve dug out her keys to let herself in the front door, deciding against the longer walk around to the alley.
After a few seconds of fumbling—trying to slip the key into the lock while juggling two coffees—a soft click sounded, and the door swung open to reveal Bastien shirtless and wearing a goddamn tool belt.
“Hey! So, the lock—it wasn’t lined up right, so I replaced it.
Your new key is on the counter, plus one for Aimi, cuz I know she has one.
Then I replaced the spring, so the door will close slowly again—shouldn’t slam on you anymore.
Oh! I hope you don’t mind, I heard how your truck was running on the way here, so I also took a look at it.
I ordered a few parts and can have it running like new in about a week…
” Bas pulled his shirt from his back pocket to wipe at his face.
Syve stared at him, “You didn’t have to do all of that, Bastien, but thank you, really—and I’m sorry I was gone so long.
” The startled look on his face made her realize she was on the verge of tears.
He smiled down at her, dropping his shirt to the floor to pull her in for a crushing hug.
Chest hair tickled her nose as she nuzzled into his chest.
“Oh, here’s your coffee—before I spill it all over. Where did you get the belt?” she asked, as he opened his arms, allowing her to step back, and accepted his drink.
“It was in the Jeep. I dug it out of the garage when I started the cars this morning.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
“You sneak! I have to say though,” she paused to make a show of looking him up and down, “This look works for you.” With a flirty smile, she brushed past him to the counter, yipping when he smacked her ass .
“You like a man who’s good with his hands, huh?” He smirked, backing her up to the counter, and caging her in with his arms.
Those were not butterflies in her stomach, those were full ass pterodactyls. A shudder ran through her when he leaned down, running his nose along her hairline until he could whisper in her ear.
“I can be really handy.” The nip at her ear made her gasp.
“Wait, wait!” She placed her hands on Bastien’s warm body, but lacked the power to push him away. “Wait.” She exhaled the words, not sure if she was telling him or herself at this point.
“What’s wrong, Bambi?” he asked, pulling back immediately to look at her, worry creasing his brows.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I have some news—but it means I really don’t have time for,” she gestured between them, “this right now.”
He straightened even more, hands dropping from the counter to her hips.
“News?”
“Not about that , unfortunately. You probably don’t even want to know the lack of progress I made on that. No, this is different.”
He tried to hide it, but she could see him deflate a fraction.
“It’s good news, though! I got a call…about the grant.
They’re going to make an exception and let me submit late.
I have to get the paperwork in before five tonight and then I’ m driving to Bozeman first thing tomorrow to give my presentation.
They said I should know if I got it or not before I leave. ”
It was so unexpected when he scooped her up to spin her that she squealed like a little girl, giggling until she remembered his injury.
“Put me down before you hurt yourself and I have to tell your mother!”
Bastien scoffed, “Did you just threaten to tell my mother on me?” He let her body slide down his until her feet touched the ground.
“I’ll do it, too!”
He shook his head, smiling warmly at her while she chided him with eyebrows raised.
“Wait!” she said again, an edge of panic seeping into her voice.
“This is insane—I got so swept up when they called, I didn’t think—I’ll cancel.
I promised I’d help figure out what to do about my stupid cousin-in-law.
I can’t just run off for an entire day—two—two entire days.
How selfish of me! I’m so sorry, Bas.” Mortification nearly knocked her off her feet.
Her stomach twisted, unsure if it wanted to crash into the earth’s core or rocket through the ceiling and launch itself into the sun.