Page 2 of Scr*wed By the Minotaur in Hallow's Cove
That got my wheels turning as to what I wanted to name my new shop. I was completely lost in my thoughts when I opened the door to Ted’s and ran directly into a brick wall.
I stumbled back half a step, blinking rapidly. My heart thudded in my chest, adrenaline singing in my veins—because Ihad barreled straight into a wall of muscle. A wall that huffed softly through flared nostrils.
I tilted my head back. And then kept tilting it. Up and up until my eyes met a pair of rich amber ones, flecked with gold. The minotaur towering over me quirked a single brow, clearly amused by the frazzled human who’d just ricocheted off his chest like a moth slamming into a window.
I’d come to Hallow’s Cove fully aware that monsters made their homes here. It was kind of why I chose it. I wanted to get away from the city and set my sights on new experiences. Still, up until now, I’d only met the rabbit shifter family that ran the inn.
This, however... this man was no rabbit shifter.
He was massive. Broad-chested, thick-armed, and every inch of him exuded quiet, tethered power. His horns curved back in elegant arcs, polished and gleaming white, and one of them had a shallow nick in the side. I couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t even remember how to close my mouth. A ridiculous thought flitted through my mind: There’s no way he fits in a diner booth.
That’s when I realized I was still in his way—mouth open, rooted to the spot like a human-shaped traffic cone.
“New in town?” he rumbled, his voice so low it vibrated through the soles of my shoes.
I nodded mutely, and his gaze roamed over me, not in a leering way but in the curious, assessing manner of someone used to seeing who came and went through a small town. His lips tugged into a slow grin, equal parts warm and wicked.
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled, stepping aside and feeling heat bloom in my cheeks. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
The grin deepened, and suddenly his whole face changed. The initial stern lines softened, replaced by something that felt disarmingly genuine. That smile made him seem less like alegendary beast and more like a man who might hold doors open and laugh at dad jokes.
“Not a problem.” He gave a casual shrug, then gestured toward the exit. “Maybe I’ll see you at Killy’s bar tonight. They’ve got live music on the weekends.” He paused. Then winked. A slow, deliberate thing that made my stomach flip like a pancake.
And then he left.
I stood there for a beat too long, trying to reboot my brain. A minotaur just winked at me. A handsome, giant minotaur just invited me to a bar. I’d come to Hallow’s Cove for a new start, fresh from the grief of losing my mom, but I hadn’t put any thought into romantic pursuits. I suddenly started thinking of all the other places a minotaur wouldn’t fit and found myself blushing to my roots. What would it be like to be held by someone that big?
A soft voice brought me back to the present. A faun waitress had appeared beside me, her hooves clicking gently on the linoleum floor. Her curls bounced as she tilted her head and gestured toward a booth in the corner. She didn’t even bat an eye at my deer-in-headlights expression. Just led me to what had to be the most oversized booth in the place. I got the feeling I was just one in a long line of outsiders trying to adjust to the reality of monsters being in town living their everyday lives. And sometimes being ridiculously attractive.
The faun tapped her pen on the pad she held, bringing me back to the diner. I decided on a breakfast burrito and coffee. The faun returned with coffee and creamer.
“Ted doesn’t mess with fancy espresso drinks.” She nodded toward the Bigfoot manning the griddle “But if you are more of a latte gal, Cool Beans is the place to go for coffee in town.” The town must be really tight-knit if she was willing to tell me that there were better places to get coffee.
Once she was gone, I pulled my notebook out of my bag and started jotting down first steps for renovating the space. My contractor in the city had recommended one here in Hallow’s Cove and I was due to meet him back at the flower shop early that afternoon. I wanted to have a list of priorities in hand, but I got lost in thought and started doodling little flowers similar to the ones I anticipated painting all over the shop. I loved painting and had even gone to art school when Mom insisted I get a degree before taking over the flower business. She never wanted me to feel like taking over the shop was my duty.
Despite my passion, Mom couldn’t grasp my desire to take over the flower shop. After spending a year immersed in art school, learning about color theory and design principles, I returned with a vision to revitalize the business. Mom’s work was amazing, with lush arrangements and vibrant colors, but as was true with everything, trends were shifting and Mom wasn’t keeping up anymore. People were looking for new and different ways to arrange flowers at events—more abstract and modern designs that broke away from traditional styles—and even just in a regular bouquet, they wanted something fresh.
Eager to infuse new life into the shop, I worked alongside Mom in my early twenties. This business had deep roots; my grandmother, Daisy, had started it during a time when women of color rarely owned businesses and passed it onto my mother, Dahlia. Now it was time for me, Azalea, to continue in their footsteps.
Things were going smoothly, with me learning the ropes and adding my creative flair, when Mom fell ill.
Designing the floral arrangements for her funeral was a heart-wrenching task I hadn’t expected to face so soon. I carefully selected the finest dahlias to honor her memory and scattered her ashes among the wildflowers in the preserve near our home, a place she had always loved.
And now I was here, in Hallow’s Cove, at Britt’s urging, and I hoped beyond hope that this would be a new place for me to set down roots.
Back at the shop, I was waiting on a contractor that I had to assume would be a monster, but had no idea what type. I peered through the shop’s window and saw a giant form approaching me. This had to be Randy. He was easily seven feet tall and that wasn’t counting the dark gray horns that sprouted from his brow and curled backward.
He stepped through, lowering his head so his horns would fit. I tried to keep myself from gasping audibly as he entered the shop. If I thought the minotaur from the morning was huge, he had nothing on Randy. This guy had to be over seven feet of green-gray skin. I cocked my head to the side, trying to take him all in. He had to be an ogre. An ogre in his… fifties? His tusks were incredibly long, pointing upward past his broad nose. His long black hair was tied back with a leather strap and graying at the temples.
As the door closed behind him, he flicked his yellow eyes up and down me.
“You Lea?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“That’s me! Are you Randy?” I put my hand out to shake his, but he already had a clipboard and pencil out.
“Yep. I am. And you want to turn this into a flower shop?” He looked around the space, lips pursed. I wondered if he was thinking this new city girl was out of her depth.
“Well, flowers and plants,” I hedged, nervous all of a sudden.
