Page 9 of Hungry As Her Python

Those emerald eyes of his glittered in the overhead light as he raked his gaze over me from head to toe.

I didn’t want to think about what I looked like—hair mussed from smoke and wind, soot streaks on my cheek, probably flour somewhere it shouldn’t be.

And here he was, looking outrageously good despite the ungodly hour.

Was it possible he’d gotten even more handsome since the last time I saw him?

Because I was ninety percent sure that was illegal under some magical treaty.

And it was so damn unfair that male Shifters—and men in general, honestly—just got hotter with age, while we women got grayer, softer, and needed a highlighter palette to fake our youthful glow.

“Sure, come in,” I muttered with false gaiety, stepping back.

“Thank you.” He moved past me, all clean pine and alpha male heat, and I tried not to inhale like a weirdo. “So, do you have a list of what was destroyed?”

“The display case on the left this time,” I told him, keeping my voice steady while desperately not staring at the way his biceps flexed as he scribbled in his little black notebook. “We caught it early, so it didn’t spread.”

I was a fool to think he still thought of us.

I just missed my shot with him, I guessed.

Better that way—relationships just weren’t my thing.

That was my story, and I was sticking to it.

Still, I wondered if maybe he ever thought about me. And yes, I hated that I wondered.

I handed him a list of the damage for the police report.

His fingers brushed mine, sending a stupid little shiver up my spine.

Do not make this personal, Bella.

He’s just an attractive man you have history with.

No sparks. None. Zip. Nada.

“Are you alright, Bella?” His deep voice conjured butterflies in my stomach, and I closed my eyes for a moment just so my brain would have time to recalibrate.

“The damage is superficial?—”

“I don’t mean the bakery, Sugar. I mean you.” His gaze softened, and damn it, my knees didn’t need that. “It must be difficult being targeted.”

“What do you mean? It’s probably just some punk kids,” I shrugged, trying for breezy.

“This is the second fire in a couple of months. Jaxson and I think it might be personal.”

“Personal? But everyone loves me! I spread joy with cupcakes and donuts! Who would want to hurt me?”

The very idea I was being singled out made my stomach flip.

True, I’d considered it before. But having him say it aloud like that? Well, that just smarted.

“What do I do? Am I in danger?”

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

It wasn’t like me to crumble in front of anyone, least of all Conrad Boman—Shifter deputy, ex-fling, and human embodiment of handle with care.