Page 5 of Love Bites (Timber Creek #2)

CHAPTER 5

SUMMER

“You know, stalking is only cute in dark romance and, personally, I’m more of a rom-com girl.”

I turned on my heel, and Max froze in his tracks, guilt written all over his face. “I wasn’t stalking you. Someone sure thinks a lot of herself.”

“Hm.” Hands on my hips, I faced him as we stood in front of my bakery.

Dressed in black to match his dark hair and making his deep blue eyes pop, Max stood out like a sore thumb against the bright yellow siding and floral multicolored paint on my shop windows. There was something in his expression — besides the guilt — that said he was assessing me for some reason.

Interesting.

I assessed him right back.

He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Olive skin that wasn’t just suntanned but spoke of some sort of Mediterranean heritage and the darkest brown hair that was messy in a way that said he spent some time in front of the mirror, making it just-so. And that smirk he always wore — it was as deadly as his hidden fangs.

“Hankering for another spinach and feta croissant then? I think I have some I could heat up.”

No one in their right mind would turn down one of my spinach feta croissants, so I knew I’d have him hooked. More time for me to figure out what his deal was.

I pulled open the door and walked towards the kitchen, Max’s footsteps stalling behind me somewhere in the middle of the café section that took up one side of the shop’s space, filled with multicolored metal tables and chairs, interspersed with plants and cute lamps and a few comfy armchairs.

“How did you know what I ate for breakfast?”

I slipped into the kitchen, grabbing a pink apron and sliding it over my head, taking over for Olive behind the counter so she could ring up a bookstore customer. I opened the glass display case full of muffins, scones, cookies, bagels, and, of course, croissants. “Wolf, Maxy. I have exceptionally strong senses, even if you did brush your teeth after. Now, cinnamon toothpaste — that’s a bold choice.”

Grabbing a pair of tongs, I pulled out a croissant and slid it into the toaster oven behind me.

“I didn’t say I actually wanted one, sunshine,” Max said, slowly approaching the counter.

“But they’re delicious, and now I know you like them.” I grinned as the timer beeped, pulling it from the oven and plating it for him. “My treat.”

He glanced between the croissant and my face, an expression I couldn’t quite read flashing across his face before he reached a tanned finger across the counter and pulled the plate towards him.

My smile wavered under his attention, a rush of heat washing through me the longer his gaze lingered, seeming to take me in for the first time. Suddenly I pictured him in a white frilly tunic and fitted trousers, myself in a corseted gown spread beneath him on a bed covered in red rose petals, feeling the heat of that attention everywhere in my body like the heroine of the bodice ripper book I fell asleep reading the night before.

“Anything else?” I asked, willing my heartbeat to chill out. I did not need to romanticize every single person who came into my life, imagining every possible scenario and if I’d become the future Mrs. Massimo Russo. Not in a million years.

Even if I had any actual interest in Max, our lives did not fit together, and never would. I was a small town girl, and he — well, it was safe to say this little town wasn’t big enough for the likes of him.

“How did you know?” Max asked, then took a bite of the croissant, buttery flakes flying everywhere with the crunch in a way that I did not find endearingly adorable. A flake caught on the edge of his lip before his tongue darted out to get it.

“Know — know what?”

He brushed crumbs from his black jacket. “Back there. How did you know those things about Quentin — and me?”

Oh, that. “How could I not? I mean, sure, you both smell like vampires, but also different. Can’t you scent the difference?”

His sharp blue eyes narrowed on me, which I took as a no . “I’m an angel, Summer.”

I pursed my lips, staring at his dark hair and deep blue eyes, then glancing down to his shoulders where I knew, if he hadn’t glamoured them, deep black opalescent wings would hang. Max might parade around and advertise himself as a full-blooded angel, but ever since Quentin arrived and I’d met my first vampire, there was no hiding the distinct metal-and-smoke scent that I assumed all vampires had. Max’s was different, that same scent mixed with a bourbon and sandalwood smell that was distinctly him. “Okay.”

Max looked around the mostly empty bakery to the bookshelves lining the left side of the café, filled with a colorful assortment of romance novels, finishing his croissant in silence.

I chatted with Olive and sent her for her break, taking over the register and preparing for the lunch crowd soon. Max lingered, rapid texting on his phone, observing the café and me in turn.

Why was he still here?

The weight of his attention sat on my shoulders like a bag of sand, making my whole body aware of his focus every time it landed on me. I could feel it zapping across my skin like a livewire.

“Maybe it’s time to stop reading romantic suspense,” I muttered to myself as I reorganized the books on the shelves, placing them back in alphabetical order.

“Why do you only sell romance novels?” Max’s deep voice said from right behind me, and I jumped, clutching my heart.

“How did you do that?” I looked over my shoulder, realizing our faces were mere inches apart. He placed a hand on the bookshelf above my head, his sandalwood scent invading my senses. “Sneak up on me like that?”

“Maybe your senses aren’t always as sharp as you think.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is there a reason you’re loitering around here?”

“I’m not loitering . I’m a customer, and I’m lingering. This is a bookstore; lingering is usually encouraged. How long have you been running this place again? You should know that by now.”

“You’re not going to buy anything, so you’re not a customer. Ergo, loitering .”

I turned back to the books, staring down at the one in my hand.

Max’s hand reached around me, a finger tapping on the cover. “ Married to the Monarch.” His breath slid across the sensitive skin of my neck, like a sensual caress. “What’s this one about? A woman dreaming of a pampered life? Maybe I’ll buy it.”

A high-pitched chuckle escaped me as I clutched it to my chest. “No. It’s a marriage of convenience, where the son and daughter of two feuding monarchs are forced to wed in an agreement for peace between their kingdoms.”

“So, Romeo and Juliet style, forbidden romance. How astoundingly original.”

I spun, leaning my back against the shelves as I tilted my chin up to look at Max. This close, I couldn’t help but notice the hint of amusement in those deep blue eyes, but I wasn’t about to let him stand with the dismissive comment. “Not at all. Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy. This is a romance. There are only happily-ever-afters on these shelves. I like to imagine there’s a happy ending for everyone out there, somewhere, just waiting for them to find it. That’s why I only sell romance novels — I am an eternal optimist.”

He trailed a finger down the spine of a book thoughtfully. “In my experience, not everyone deserves a happy ending. Isn’t it naive to think otherwise?”

I leveled a look at him; this was an argument I’d heard before. “Naive, or hopeful? Forgiving? Isn’t it overly dogmatic to assume people can’t change, or aren’t worth a good redemption arc?”

His dark brows rose, a glint of something dangerous in his eyes. “Even killers? Vampires?”

“I thought you said you were an angel?” I lifted my brows to match his expression and he smirked, the hint of a dimple on his tan face entirely too seductive. Heat pooled in my belly, and suddenly, I wondered if angels or vampires or both could scent arousal the same way shifters could.

“Anyway.” I pushed off the shelves and ducked under his arm, heading towards the correct section of shelves to put the book away. And to put some much needed space between us. “Was there something else you needed? Tea? Coffee? Mafia romance?”

“Now you’re just making things up.” Max followed me towards the two black shelves in the back corner of the store, full of dark covers and darker deeds, even if they also had happy endings. “Who the hell would want to read about the Mafia?”

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” I said and his chuckle rumbled from behind me. “Mafia is but the tip of the dark romance iceberg. And I’ve got news for you — all of these books are made up.”

“Yes, I am aware of the meaning of fiction.”

He pulled a book off the shelf, flipping through it, and I eased over to pluck it from his hands. The last thing we needed to add to this conversation were the logistics of using a gun in certain places.

“Oooh, maybe we don’t start with that one. I’m not sure you’re ready for reverse harem if you’ve never even heard of Mafia romance.”

His head tilted to the side. “Reverse harem?”

I patted his chest, and instantly regretted it as tingles spread from my hand all the way up my arms. “One woman. A whole bunch of men. Good times all around.”

“A whole bunch ?”

“Usually four, but it varies.” I shrugged. “If that sounds interesting, I’ve got something a little — ah, tamer than that one to get you started. I’m sure you could learn a thing or two —”

“Not interested.”

“You sure?” I pulled out the book I had in mind, waving it in a rainbow motion. “The more you know.”

His eyes widened at the four bare-chested men on the cover, taking the book from my hands gingerly, like it was a bomb set to detonate. “This is what you’re into, Little Larkin?”

A common misconception. “I didn’t say I’m into it, just like I’m not actually into sentient doors or dragons and bloody battles. But hey, a little fun reading never hurt anyone. Here.” I pressed it into his chest when he tried to pass it back. “Enjoy.”

Walking back towards the counter, I peered over my shoulder as Max studied the shelves, pulling each dark book down one at a time, muttering under his breath at the absurdity of the titles and covers.

“So, you’ve stalked me, had a croissant, lingered — care to share the real reason you followed me here?”

He put the last book in his hand away, straightening the uneven spines before walking towards me.

“And here I thought we were enjoying a little bonding, but whatever. Before we get into it, I need you to shut down any mental connection you’ve got going on with West. Because I’m pretty sure the favor I’m about to ask you for might make him want to murder me.”

Well that had my attention. “Color me intrigued.” I glanced around the shop, only a few patrons hanging around in the café. “Give me fifteen, and I’ll meet you up on the roof.”