Page 83 of Prayers for the Prickly

“Bullshit! It’s a scientific fact that it takes more muscles to frown than smile.”

“Tell that to my face.”

“You don’t seem to be suffering any.”

“Ech.”

I was laughing, though, and that got a smile out of him as he leaned against the counter.

“I just miss Ever so damned much and he’s still not accepting texts or phone calls from me,” he explained. “I don’t know what to do to bridge the gap and yes, I know, August keeps telling me to give Everett his space and let him finish getting settled into a routine back home, but it’s been a month, Gregor, a fuckin’ month of no contact. I just, I don’t know what to do with all the silence from him. He might as well have just said he didn’t care that I was his mate and leave it at that. At least then I’d know that my future was going to be empty. Maybe then I could start figuring out other ways to fill it when I’m not at work.”

“Olly, I’m not gonna blow smoke up your ass, it may take a month and a half more, or even longer before he’s ready to have a conversation,” I pointed out. “It’s time you start growing up a little and see that this isn’t like when you were in high school or at the community college. You can’t pass messages through friends and get them to fix whatever little misunderstanding proved to be a bump in the road in a temporary relationship. This is big boy shit you guys have landed yourselves in. There are still the issues with the lawsuit, since Mrs. Zabrowski insists on holding the shop responsible since Iris was working there. It’s a lot to deal with, in addition to a new mate. You two barely had any time together and that sucks, but you’re mates. That much is fact. It just might take longer than you like to be able to build on it.”

“It’s already taking longer than I’d like.”

“Then consider this a lesson in patience,” I told him before checking the time. “Need anything signed that can’t wait until tonight?”

“Nope. Utilities are paid, chamber dues are paid. Mr. Scopoline came in first thing this morning to make his final layaway payment and pick up his wife’s gift. He told me to thank you, again, by the way, and to remind you that Scopoline’s has some wonderful seafood dishes on the menu.”

“Oh shit, it’s been so long since I’ve been in, I’ve forgotten what’s even on it,” I said, not wanting to offend one of my father’s oldest friends. “I’ll call when I get home and make a reservation, maybe even tonight if Olly is up for going out.”

“For seafood, he’d waddle over you to get to the door.”

Chuckling, I couldn’t deny that he was right. “No doubt.”

The Scopoline boys and I had played hockey together from the time we could properly handle a stick. Like Brendon and Dash, we’d come up through the leagues together and spent plenty of time getting into shit at our families’ backyard barbeques. I hadn’t seen the trio since they’d left town a few years back to help their grandfather in Nova Scota, who was a fisherman there.

I made a note in my notebook about that, too, before crossing the room to catch my little brother in a headlock and mess up his hair.

“Hey, hey, quit it! Damn!”

The moment I let go he tried to tame the strands, before finally giving up and sticking his tongue out at me.

“Gee thanks, I look like I stuck my fingers in a light socket,” he grumbled, pouting at me.

“Awe, it’s adorable,” I said, laughing when he shot me the bird. “I’ve gotta get rolling. I’ll see you at the house tonight, unless you have someplace to be.”

“I’ve got a thing,” Olly said, leaving it at that.

“Uh huh.”

Whatever the thing was it probably involved more paint. The number of colors marring his clothes had grown, but I was certain he’d share whatever it was when he was ready. Time to hit the last of my errands and get on home to see what my mate had come up with during his morning planning session. If I was lucky, my afternoon would involve getting to taste test some truly decedent cotton candy, and the sticky sweet residue on my mate’s lips every time he kissed me.

Chapter 32

August

“So, now that we have all of our flavored sugar crystals dried and mixed the way we want them to, the real magic can begin,” I said from my comfy highbacked seat in front of the cotton candy spinner. He’d carried it down from the dining from for me, so I’d have some lumbar support.

I had sticks lined up and gloves on, wax paper on the counter for the samples, which was all we’d be making tonight. With my recipe notes on the counter beside me, I turned the machine on, lifted the first batch of sugar crystals, and jotted the name on the label in my notebook so we could score it.

Maine Triple berry.

Ohh, okay, this was the mix of blueberry, blackberry and huckleberry which I hoped would become a regional favorite and a staple in the locally inspired section of my shop. Five cotton candy balls per pouch had been the number I’d decided on while three inches was the size I was shooting for. We’d see how I did once the spun sugar started flying. I might have to play with the speed settings, too, until I got the hang of making the sizes I needed.

Tonight was all about taste, though, and getting to share in this creation process with my mate for the very first time. As he eagerly watched the first tendrils form, I thought back to the day Olly had told me about his sweet tooth, and Ever had come in afterwards, chuckling about the way Olly had described his chocolate. While our conversation had been about him maybe needing to teach Olly how to make some, so he didn’t go broke buying big boxes of treats, the idea had immediately intrigued me.

Now I had the chance to experience it with Gregor.

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