Page 8 of Sweeter Than Honey
She turned the handle of her suitcase out for him to grab while she put the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Rolling the case to the other side of the road just as he promised, he walked slightly ahead of her. She slipped on her shoes, the heels making a clack, clack, clack on the ground. Neither of them spoke. She kept her eyes on him during the walk. She was concentrating too hard on not losing her bladder to make conversation. And then like some miracle, the edge of town appeared. There were cars and people everywhere. They crossed a street and went onto a sidewalk lined by beautiful brick buildings. The scent of something sweet and fattening wafted her way. She was starving, and this wasn’t helping. Her spirits lifted knowing she wasn’t alone with… she probably should have gotten his name.
“Hey, what’s your—”
“Here you go. We’ll part ways here.” He swiveled her suitcase handle toward her, set the case on its wheels in the middle of the sidewalk and walked away. Mouth open, Cara watched him retreat around the corner and out of sight.
The past few hours had been incredibly odd, but this? Beard disappeared as fast as he showed up. Fine. Good riddance. At least she didn’t need to hit him with her car—again? to get rid of him.
She followed the direction he’d gone, the delicious scent of gooey baked goods pulling her like a fish on a line. Her phone app said the hotel was three blocks on this side of the street. But exhaustion and ravenous hunger were pulling her in two directions, and hunger won.
No, check that. Her bladder was bursting through like a WWE wrestler, beating all the opponents out of the way. The alluring scent blossomed right outside a cute pink and yellow shop. STICKY SWEET BAKERY.
There couldn’t be anything weird, crazy, or creepy about a bakery, right?
She hurried into the warmth and the sweet scent of pastries wafted over her. Man, it smelled good, almost covering up the scent of her perfume—hopefully. It would be a shame for her swamp-ass odor to make people gag up their honey buns.
Two men sat at a small table in front of the bay window to her left. They glanced at her as she passed by. The younger, blonde one leaned toward her. "Here."
She took the napkin he offered. A fancy font wrote out:
You have pretty eyes.
You’re smart.
You’re stronger than you think.
You’re kind.
You make someone happy.
Oh, and you’re hot. Don’t forget that part.
She frowned. "Um, thank you? Do you know where the bathroom is?"
He pointed with his thumb toward the back. She spied the restroom sign and hurried that way with the napkin balled up in her palm. Maybe she was wrong about this place after all because this napkin was weird as hell.
Chapter Five
“Well,well,lookwhodecided to come down from his mountain.”
Jett Mitchell ignored his younger brother Dax’s jab as he sat in the corner where he could keep an eye on the comings and goings through the window, while still being hidden by the crowd inside the bakery. He preferred to keep a low profile. He’d done a terrible job of it this morning after running into the woman. Or, more accurately, when she ran intohim.
At first, she’d been a nuisance who’d interrupted his recovery zone. And then she’d become a curiosity, and then, something he had to protect. He’d told himself he was putting her out of his mind once they reached town. Yet, here he was, following her ridiculously foul scent trail to his sister-in-law’s bakery, Sticky Sweet.
He’d waited until the woman had lugged her suitcase into the restroom to sit with his brother Dax, and father Rowan. He doubted she’d see him here when she came back out, but from this vantage point, he’d see her.
Something was up with her, and it pounded in his mind with loud curiosity. She was carrying a mixture of signature scents beyond whatever she’d doused herself with. There was the rich, fresh scent of pregnancy, and the musky undertone of a shifter’s markings on her vehicle. And then there was her scent, the one that was all her own. Perhaps that was what drew him in so hard.
She smelled like honey.
“What were you up to this morning, Jett?”
He grunted in response to Dax.
“Ah, pleasant as always. Bro, you never disappoint.”
“Stuff a sticky bun in your face and stop talking.”
Dax winked and took a huge bite of his wife’s signature treat. Ever since Dax married Allie, the bakery owner, sticky buns had become a morning routine. Dax was usually gone by now, helping their father with the construction business. His brother’s eyes strayed to his wife as she moved through the line at the counter, holding a platter of cookies high. She was offering one for free to each customer, carefully maneuvering her hugely pregnant belly around everyone. Jett shifted in his chair. He didn’t blame his brother for being reluctant to leave his expectant mate. Hadn’t he felt the same when his mate—his deceased mate—was expecting their child?
