Page 2 of Sweet on the Alpha

I stalk back to my bakery, fuming. The absolute nerve of that man! Here I am, trying to do something nice, and he practically tosses it back in my face. What a colossal jerk. No, jerk might not be strong enough. Ass. Colossal ass.

Which has me thinking of his ass and wondering if it looks as good in jeans as I imagine. I didn’t get a peek, but a lady can dream…

No, bad Grace. Bad. Mr. Aiden Grumpy Pants is not drool-worthy in the slightest.

Yet… as I angrily toss the muffins into the fridge, I can’t quite banish the memory of those haunting green eyes. The way they seemed to look right into my soul for that split-second before his shields slammed down.

“Oh no you don’t, Grace Carter,” I scold myself sternly, tying on my apron with a vicious tug. “You are not going to waste one more second thinking about that ungrateful, ill-mannered, stupidly attractive man.” I huff. “So stupidly attractive.”

But even as I throw myself into my baking, pounding dough and whisking frosting with single-minded focus, I can’t shake the unsettling feeling that our brief encounter meant something. That it was the start of a story I don’t know the shape of yet, but one I’m already inexplicably caught up in.

I pause and sneak a glance out my front window, catching sight of Aiden pacing on his porch and scowling into the distance like the world did him a great personal wrong. I shiver, an odd prickle racing over my skin. Suddenly, the prospect of a gorgeous but grumpy recluse as my new neighbor feels a whole lot more complicated.

Damn.

Chapter 2

Aiden

I pace the length of my front porch, the aged floorboards creaking under my weight. The lingering scent of sugar, vanilla, and something uniquely feminine tickles my nostrils, making my wolf stir beneath my skin. Wanting out. Wanting to chase that aroma until he can bathe in the flavors.

Grace Carter. Even her name tastes sweet on my tongue. From the moment I opened my front door and saw her standing there, curves on full display in that sundress, honey-gold hair gleaming in the sunlight, something inside me irrevocably shifted.

Mate. The word reverberates through my mind like a primal drumbeat. Every instinct, human and wolf alike, screams at me to go to her. To claim her, mark her, make her mine. Forever.

I shake my head sharply, banishing the wolf’s thoughts as a growl rumbles in my throat. This can’t be happening. Not now, and not tome. I came to Maplewood Grove to escape my past, to find solitude and a fresh start far from pack politics and painful memories. The last thing I need is a mate, especially a human one who smells—and looks—like temptation incarnate.

Through the large front window of Sweet Curves Bakery, I can spy Grace bustling about, a bright spot of sunshine in the quaint, homey interior. She moves with a graceful efficiency, her full hips swaying enticingly in that little dress as she flits from counter to oven to display case.

My hands clench into fists at my sides, my wolf’s claws pricking my palms as I fight the urge to charge over there and sweep her into my arms. To bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale that maddening scent, to feel her soft curves mold against the hard planes of my body.

“Get ahold of yourself, Donahue,” I mutter grimly. “She’s human. Fragile. The last thing she needs is a broken wolf darkening her doorstep.”

Still, over the next week, I find myself going out of my way to frequent places I know I might catch a whiff of Grace’s alluring scent: the local coffee shop where she gets her morning latte, thepark where she likes to eat her lunch on sunny days, even the damn yoga studio on Main Street that she visits twice a week.

I tell myself I’m just patrolling my new territory, getting the lay of the land. But deep down, I know the truth. I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame, helpless to resist the siren song of my mate.

It all comes to a head on market day. Once a month, the whole town gathers in the square to sell their wares—everything from fresh produce to handmade jewelry and homemade preserves. It’s exactly the kind of quaint, charming event I usually go out of my way to avoid. Religiously.

But this time, I find myself wandering through the stalls, telling myself I need to scope out the local shifter population. It has nothing to do with the mouthwatering scent of fresh-baked goods wafting from a certain curvy blonde’s booth just down the way.

As if summoned by my thoughts, my gaze lands on Grace. I’m drawn to her like… like a wolf to his mate. She’s a vision in a flirty green sundress that hugs her lush figure, her hair piled atop her head in a messy bun that makes my fingers itch to tug it loose. Her booth is doing brisk business, and it’s no wonder why. Each treat is a work of art, from the “Bodacious Blueberry Muffins” to the “Curvy Carrot Cake Cupcakes.”

But the baked goods aren’t what make my blood boil. It’s the sight of Grace smiling and laughing with her customers—humanand shifter alike.Men, in particular. They hover around her booth, drawn to her warmth and easy charm like bees to honey.

One man, a shifter I don’t recognize, leans in far too close, his hand brushing Grace’s arm as he says something that makes her giggle. A red haze descends over my vision, and before I can stop myself, I’m striding over, a growl building in my throat as my wolf makes itself known to the stranger.

“Back off,” I snarl, the words coming out a harsh snarl. “The lady’s not interested.”

The shifter spins to face me, a sneer on his lips, but it quickly fades as he takes in my towering frame and burning golden eyes. He’s nothing compared to me—an alpha wolf. He raises his hands in surrender and melts back into the crowd.

“I don’t need your help,” Grace snaps, her voice sharp with annoyance even as her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “I can handle myself just fine, Mr. Donahue.”

“Aiden,” I correct automatically, my wolf preening at the sound of my name on her lips. “And I know you can. I just… I’m sorry… about the other day and now. I’m not very good at this whole ‘neighborly’ thing.”

To my shock, Grace’s face softens into a smile that makes my heart lurch. “Apology accepted. And I get it. Moving to a new place is hard. I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that on your first day.” She nods before she continues, “So, what brings a big, brooding mountain man like yourself to our quaint little town?”Grace’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she hands me a “Cheeky Cherry Cheesecake Brownie.”

The scent of chocolate and tart cherries mingles with her own natural aroma, making my mouth water for more than just the treat.

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