Page 67 of A Wolfe in the Woods

Then I sat back down, easing into the silence.

The fire cracked softly behind me, its glow brushing the walls like whispers. Time passed in flickers, shadows shifting, embers settling, her breathing slow and even beside me.

Just the darkness and the fire. Just a man and a woman. A shared meal. A quiet night. And the start of something neither of us knew how to name…yet.

And that was enough.

CHAPTER 18

BLANCHETTE

Under my lashes, I watched Jonathan order coffee and cardamom buns at the wood block counter while I held down the table tucked against the bay window. It overlooked an ivy-covered red brick wall of an artist’s gallery opposite the small coffee shop, a row of multicolored pots filled with flowers and shrubbery lining the pathway.

Like veins in a body, Everwick was comprised of hidden, winding alleyways that branched off the spine of the main road, which cut straight through the town, ending at the sea. Growing up, I had fond memories of exploring the different pathways, whether alone or with friends. Some led to little alcoves, a stone bench waiting at the end for a quiet, peaceful moment. Others led to courtyards, surrounded by pop-up art galleries or artisan jam shops or fresh-cut flower stalls. Others would act as shortcuts across blocks, a network that only locals would know to escape the bustle of tourists from the city on weekends or during summer. Sometimes, however, the alleyways seemed to change, so most knew to use familiar markers to keep their path.

One of my favorite alleys was just next to Tales & Tomes, a small bookshop that one of my grandmother’s neighbors, Edward Spire, used to own. I’d browse through the stacks of books, the smell of fresh parchment and coffee permanently branded in my mind, before slipping out the door with my newest purchase and down the alley that separated Tales & Tomes and the real estate office next to it. At the end of the alley lay an arched wooden door, the rounded handle a tarnished brass. Most didn’t know it was open to the public, and so, often, it was empty. My prized reading spot I’d only told my grandmother about.

Behind the door was a shaded garden that reminded me of a forest. A Gloamdrop tree grew tall and strong, its shadowy trunk laden with dark, fragrant moss, its branches drooping under cascades of violet-blue blossoms that shimmered as though lit by hidden light. Once, a fountain had trickled in the corner of the small courtyard and wild crawling roses had spiraled up tall oil lamps. A chipped statue of a mermaid, the scales of her tail sparkling with inlaid opal, sat next to a curved bench.

There it felt like Everwick fell away and the world went quiet.

Now sitting in an unfamiliar coffee shop, I wondered if that alleyway was still there…or if it’d been closed off by the new owner when Edward had sold it off in his retirement.

The pretty fox-shifter cashier beamed up at Jonathan, though he was seemingly oblivious to her glittering eyes and flirtatious smile as he rummaged for his card in a black leather wallet. My gaze ran over the soft T-shirt that clung to his strong back, the ripples of muscles, honed by hours of laboring on his cabins, evident beneath the material. The jeans he had on were a perfect fit, cupping a firm backside, giving way to strong thighs and?—

My stomach gave a little swirl when he looked over his shoulder at me, only to find me—blatantly—checking him out.

Cheeks burning, I fought off an embarrassed chuckle and looked out the bay window, but not before I caught the flash of his smirk. Hewasa handsome man, and I had the thought that if I’d ever passed him on the streets of Graymore, I might do a double take. The cashier wasn’t immune either. It made me wonder when he’d last dated anyone. If maybe he had a string of ex-girlfriends in town.

Judging from his comment last night, two bottles deep in elven wine, aboutnothaving sex, I guessed it might’ve been a while.

If Megan were here, and if it had been anyone else buttheJonathan Wolfe, she would’ve already suggested he and I end our celibacy streaks with each other. And she would’ve been quite serious.

My face still felt warm by the time Jonathan strode over to the round table I’d snagged.

“I remembered you take it black,” he commented as he set down a ceramic blue mug filled with coffee, “but I can ask for more cream if you prefer.”

“This is good—thank you,” I replied, smiling as he slid into the seat across from me.

He plopped three sugar cubes into his own coffee in succession, pointedly. I shrugged.

“I always imaginedyou’dbe a black-coffee kind of guy,” I replied, lips twitching as I leaned forward. His eyes flicked to my mouth as I took a small sip of the steaming brew, and I was proud when I didn’t choke. “In addition to being funny, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He made a face, one of mock exasperation. “I was a ‘black-coffee kind of guy,’ but after Graymore…I’ve just had enough bitter things in my life. Don’t have the stomach for it anymore,” he said. As if to prove his point, he added one more sugar cube before stirring his coffee with finality.

A moment later, I noticed the cashier had slipped out from behind her station, whispering to the dryad server girl in the corner. They exchanged a quick glance, and the server reluctantly handed over her tray. My lips twitched. She was supposed to stay behind the counter, but she’d clearly switched roles just for another excuse to approach Jonathan.

Sure enough, the fox-girl cashier appeared at our table, balancing the tray with a little flourish. She deposited a small glass pot of cream along with our steaming cardamom buns, which smelled divine. Her tail, kept neatly tucked away but not well enough to hide, flicked playfully behind her as she threw Jonathan a beaming smile.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she told him, lingering a little before she retreated.

The dryad server shot her a disapproving look from the corner, and I caught myself smirking. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed her little performance.

“Someone likes you,” I commented softly, taking another sip of coffee.

“How can you tell?” he asked, dumping in the entire cream pot until his coffee turned nearly white.

“Mmm…a smile that could rival the brightness and radiance of Moonbeam Lighthouse on a stormy night?” I commented.