Page 2 of Her Pastry Shifters

“Itwouldn’tbeaninconvenience,” I tell the breathtaking, voluptuous beauty.

She’s wearing black yoga pants that hug her sweet curves, simple sneakers, and a t-shirt that says ‘Life is what you bake it.’ A woman after my own heart. But her eyes are full of apprehension, which means I’m going to need backup.

“We don’t mind sharing. Right, guys?”

I shoot my two best friends-turned-business partners a look that says I will end you if you disagree. But I needn’t have worried. One look at them tells me they’re on board. And I know them well enough to recognize that, more likely than not, our soon-to-be roommate is their fated mate, too. So ‘sharing’ just took on a whole new meaning.

I want to pull our baker into my arms and tell her everything will be okay. That I’ll take care of it, and her, for the rest of her life. But I’m more likely to scare her off than comfort her, so I force myself to stay put.

“We don’t mind.” Bax shoots her the same friendly smile that always works on the customers. It seems to put her at ease.

Rune crosses his tattooed arms in front of his muscular chest. Baking is hard physical labor; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We hand-make everything. Literally. We have no machines except for an oven in our shop. Between whisking gallons of cream, kneading dough, and stocking heavy bags of flour and sugar, all three of us are in great shape. Though, of course, our shifter powers play a big role in that.

“Rune?” I nudge the man.

He clears his throat. And clears his throat again. Then nods. He’s never been a man of many words, and sometimes forcing him to talk makes him accidentally shift—which would make me shift, too—so it’s better if he stays silent.

“If you really don’t mind,” our curvy baker says with a small smile. “I’m Jessy.”

“Luke MacMaster,” I tell her. “But I just go by Mac.”

“Baxter Carlton,” Bax says. “Go by Car professionally, but I’m Bax to my friends.” He extends his hand. “I know we’re competing against each other, but I hope we can be friends, Jessy.”

“Of course.” She smiles and slips her small hand into his much larger one.

Never thought I’d envy a simple handshake, but here I am. If I hadn’t been so focused on putting her at ease, I would have thought to shake her hand. Now, it’s too late. Who knows how long it’ll be before I finally get to touch her? So I go all in and awkwardly shove my hand out anyway.

Chapter 3

Jessy

MycheeksflushasI shake hands with Mac and turn to the third man, who’s been silently watching me from beneath hooded eyelids. “You’re Rune, right?”

He grunts and nods.

I don’t know how he manages it, but he makes me melt with a single look. All three of them do.

“I’ll grab your bag,” Bax says.

Rune grunts, beats him to it, and scoops it under his arm.

“I can get someone to help with that,” the receptionist tells him.

He pointedly ignores her.

“I’m sure it weighs less than a bag of flour,” Mac says.

“I guess.” My cheeks flush.

Rune nods and, without a word, heads toward the elevators.

“I’m so glad everything worked out, ma’am,” the receptionist says, slyly casting looks at the guys. They are hot. “Don’t forget these.”

She hands me the envelope, my one-week stay voucher, and my credit card and ID. I slip everything into the envelope, then Mac places a hand on the small of my back and guides me after Rune.

I stumble. His touch has the same effect on me as shaking his and Bax’s hands. For a second, I forget how to breathe. And when the four of us all squeeze into an elevator, with Rune behind me, Mac on my left, and Bax on my right, I struggle not to hyperventilate at all the steamy elevator scenes flooding through my mind right now. Or tremble like the hot mess that I am. A hot mess who hasn’t had a man between her legs in way too long and is now picturing herself with three.

Three? Ugh, what’s wrong with you, Jessy?I ask myself.

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