Page 2 of My Blind Date is a Werewolf

“Oh please. She’s at least ten pounds heavier than in the picture. And why are you wearing heels when you’re already as tall as a tree? Do you really want to be looking up at your woman for the rest of your life, Timmy? You should have just gone out with the Montgomery girl like I told you to,” the older woman piped up. She had on thick glasses like Timmy, and the longer I looked at her, the more the family resemblance stood out. Her white-blonde hair had so much hairspray in it a hurricane could blow past and not a single strand would be out of place.

“Ma, please. You promised you would be nice. If you can’t control yourself, go find another table to sit at!” Timmy snapped.

Oh, dear lord, I was on a date with a mama’s boy and his mom. Someone kill me now!

“Please forgive my mother. Her bark is worse than her bite, I promise.” He trailed his hand down and stopped at my elbow. When he tried to help me to a seat, I dug my heels in and remained standing.

“What is she doing here, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Timmy opened his mouth to answer, but his mother beat him to it. “I came to make sure he comes out of this unscathed. I don’t know what kind of water y’all are drinking in Mystic Cove, but I ain’t never met anyone who came from there who was right in the head—”

“Ma!” Timmy whined. I’m talking a stomp your foot on the ground, cross your arms, and pout kind of whine. See, Angie? This is exactly what could go wrong, I thought bitterly. Which witch or warlock did I cross to get this kind of bad luck? None of this was normal, right? It couldn’t be. Or did I just naturally send out a signal that attracted all the crazies in the world?

“Now, you hush, Timmy. I’m doing this for your benefit. Poor Mrs. Jones’s son went out on a date with a girl from that cursed town and had nightmares for months after the fact. I’m told the poor boy is still wetting his bed to this day. And every time someone asks him what happened on the date, he screams bloody murder,” she huffed, taking her glasses off and wiping them with the hem of her blouse. “I’ll be damned if I let my son fall prey to a Jezebel from that town.”

Her story scratched a faint memory. If I recalled, the woman she was talking about was Jessica Price, one of Eden’s friends. I remember her telling us of her nightmare of a date who’d gotten too handsy and insistent at the end of the night. Jessica was a witch, so she placed a mild hex on him—though I was beginning to doubt her definition of the word “mild” if her victim was still suffering from the effects.

Timmy babbled out a weak apology between trying to put his mother in her place and appease her at the same time. I let out a weary sigh, my gaze flickering between mother and son, imagining how the night would unfold if I stayed. Without saying a word, I noped out of there, leaving the Sloanes arguing amongst themselves.

I was already pulling out of the parking lot when Timmy burst through the doors of the steakhouse, frantically chasing after me. I was half-tempted to roll down the window and give him the middle finger, but I stepped on the gas, the tires squealing on the asphalt as I sped out of there. That was why I’d chosen to give up on dating. That was well and truly the last blind date you’d catch me going on.

I was content with my life the way it was. Every day at Jumpin’ Beans was—pardon my corniness—an adventure. I loved chatting with the customers, baking to my heart’s content, and providing the best coffee in town. Even with a certain coffee store powerhouse opening up a branch in Mystic Cove, it was Jumpin’ Beans everyone came to when they needed their caffeine and pastry fix.

All men could choke on their tongues and die for all I cared. Okay, not all men. I’d loved my dad dearly and still felt the keen pain of his loss after all this time, and I adored my uncles almost as much, but everyone else was fair game. If I wanted companionship, I’d adopt a goldfish or something.

CHAPTER 2

The sound of glass crashing had me wincing and gritting my teeth for the second time that day. I wiped my hands clean on a dish towel just as Wendy burst through the doors, an apologetic grimace on her face.

“Peter again?” I didn’t even have the energy to be angry as this had become a daily occurrence by now. Peter was a level above having butterfingers. At this rate, I was going to go into debt replacing coffee mugs and drinking glasses. Maybe it was time I switched to disposable cups instead of only using them for takeout. It was either that or firing Peter before he bankrupted me, but I didn’t have the heart to do it since I knew just how much he and Wendy were already struggling to care for their younger siblings while dealing with a mother who was battling ovarian cancer.

“We’re so sorry, Liv. We’ll find a way to make it up to you somehow, but please don’t dock his pay.” Wendy’s big brown eyes could convince the devil himself to switch to the light side.

“I won’t dock his pay, but Peter’s on kitchen duty for the next month. Get the mess cleaned up before we open and tell him to stop hiding from me and actually apologize for himself once in a while. I’m not some kind of monster who’ll chew his arm off.” I rolled my eyes at Peter’s cowardice. He was as timid as a church mouse despite being older than Wendy by a year, who, in contrast, was as fierce as the wolves that prowled around town.

“Have you seen yourself when you’re pissed? Did you know that Michelle Wentz crosses the street whenever she sees you coming after that dressing down you gave her?” the nineteen-year-old exclaimed, walking toward the broom closet and fetching a broom and dustpan.

“As she should. She loves parading around the town and acting as if she’s better than everyone when she’s just as mundane as the rest of us non-magical folk. It was high time someone put her in her place once and for all.” I punched the dough I was kneading probably a little harder than necessary as I resumed working the dough for the Madeira cake I was making.

It was only around six in the morning, but I had been there since four, making all the pastries for the day. I preferred to serve my goods fresh most of the time, which meant dragging myself out of bed at the ungodly hour of three a.m. It was the only way I could be sure I would be done baking in time for the seven o’clock breakfast rush.

“Go finish setting everything up and then you and your brother can help yourselves to a blueberry muffin each before the masses grab them all.” I shooed Wendy out of the kitchen.

An hour later, I was manning the cash register while Peter and Wendy took care of the orders. The aromatic scent of coffee filled the air, accompanied by the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked bread. We had a pretty good crowd going, most of them familiar faces ranging from bleary-eyed high school students scrolling through their phones as they waited their turn and frustrated suits who kept glancing at their ridiculously expensive watches and then glaring at me for not moving the line along faster.

A familiar face was also waiting in line, a fat grin on her face.

“For someone who’s going to be spending the day drilling conjugate verbs into the heads of kids who couldn’t care less what they are, you seem extra chipper this morning,” I drawled in a dry tone as Angie stepped up to the counter. Without her having to ask, I picked out the two biggest cinnamon rolls on display for her and a bran muffin just so she wouldn’t accuse me of sabotaging her diet.

Peter was already working on her espresso order. Angie, like most of our customers, was a creature of habit, so we knew our most regular customers’ preferred orders by heart.

“That’s because I practically had to pry Paul off of me this morning if I didn’t want to be late for work.” She beamed at me, her cheeks flushed red.

“Eww, I do not need an image of my big sister and brother-in-law doing the horizontal tango stuck in my brain, so please keep the details to yourself. Or to your gossipy friends in the English and Literature department.” I shuddered.

“Judging by your grumpy face and the fact that you never got back to me or Eden last night, methinks you didn’t get so lucky last night. What was wrong with him this time? He didn’t have piercing blue eyes that cut right through your soul?” Angie mocked, laughter in sky blue eyes.

“He brought his mom on the date,” I deadpanned. My sister choked on air and started chortling in the middle of my cafe.

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