The Pumpkin Spice Romance (A Caffeinated Romance Tribe Anthology)

Chapter 1

Present day

Voices seeped into Leonie Chin’s office.

She implored the colourful poster of human versus shifter teeth, resisting the urge to bust through the wall and tell everyone to just shush for five minutes.

But this was a Leonie problem; lately, even the slightest sound of her husband going about his day filled her with a mix of nausea and dread.

She shivered in her hygienist scrubs, despite the woollen thermal skivvy she had on underneath.

Her office had a chilly bite this morning, no doubt from Mark telling their receptionist Marla to turn down the heat, neglecting yet again that Leonie’s room took hours to warm up.

She took a sharp, deep breath and pumped her arms, resolved to make the most of today despite the tugging in her chest.

A single rap at her door told her instantly that Mark was on the other side. He let himself in before she could answer.

“My eleven o’clock cancelled,” he announced. “I’m gonna get an early lunch.”

“Sure thing,” Leonie replied, forcing a smile. If her husband could tell it wasn’t real, he sure didn’t show it.

“Marla’s got that doctor’s appointment too,” he continued, and that tugging in Leonie’s chest pulled into a taut wire. “You okay to mind the desk for an hour?”

Phrased like a question, but positioned like she couldn’t say no without seeming unreasonable—the old Mark special, this time delivered with one foot out the door.

No can I get you some food or how are you going after sleeping badly last night?

But then, after so long, him being so thoughtful might have shocked her into a coma.

Heck of a thing to realise after more than a decade with someone.

The office downlights had a fluorescent buzz, their glow turning sickly as Mark’s pearly smile radiated from the door. Out in the hallway, Marla’s unmistakeable high-heeled footsteps approached. Her floral perfume preceded her.

“Mark, you ready?” came her soft voice, and the taut wire snapped. Leonie knew there was only one response she could give her husband now.

She stood up and shouldered her handbag. “Actually, I can’t watch the desk. I’m heading out too.”

“Just a sec, Marl. Where are you going, Lee?”

“I know what’s been going on, and I can’t do this anymore,” she said. “I want a divorce.”

* * *

Twenty years ago

For one drawn-out split second, the world fell away from Hayden Moore.

Up wasn’t up, down wasn’t down, and the sense that tethered him to his human form spun just out of reach.

It was a strange feeling, a bit like losing your balance or going to the bathroom—not something he wanted happening in a playground full of his classmates. Then, his butt hit the ground.

A fist closed over the front of his uniform, yanking both jumper and shirt. Hayden squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the punch. But the grip abruptly gave way to sounds of a scuffle and swearing.

“Get lost or I’ll scream!”

Hayden squinted against the midday sun at a skirted silhouette standing between him and the four bullies. Its voice was familiar.

“Yeah? What’s that gonna do?” But the main bully stumbled as he got up, hand over his nose. Hayden smelled blood and sweat.

“Wanna find out?” the silhouette spat back. “Mr Hughes!”

Not Mr Hughes, that terror teacher with a selectively bad temper—a kindly old grandpa to the girls, and the willing tormentor of any boys who crossed them. He’d been known to push his old-fashioned take on discipline as far as the school rules would let him.

“C’mon, Jimmy, let’s get out of here,” one of the smaller bullies scoffed. Hayden also smelled a hint of fear as the gang retreated.

A passing cloud eased the glare. In the softening light, Hayden recognised the silhouette as Leonie Chin, the Asian girl with soft hair and clever eyes, who always picked the front row and never spoke during quiet time, but always put her hand up when teachers asked a question.

An unlikely saviour against Jimmy and his mates, but one Hayden was grateful to find while his wolf was still too weak to fight.

“You don’t look hurt too bad,” she said.

Hayden grinned and helped himself up. “Thanks, Leonie.”

“Why were those guys picking on you?”

“Because they’re pathetic.”

“I know that,” Leonie rolled her eyes. “Jimmy went to my primary school and he was pathetic then too. Why was he picking on you, though? You don’t look like his usual victims. You’re pretty good at sport and stuff.”

“I guess you wouldn’t know.” Hayden shifted uncomfortably. “Those guys hate shifters.”

He expected her to clam up and back away. He knew well enough what people said about his kind; the label had a stink to it. But instead of balking at the whiff, Leonie’s eyes lit up.

“So it’s true, then?” She lowered her voice. “What’s shifting like?”

“Uh, it—”

The bell rang, and Hayden’s unlikely saviour sighed. “At least we’re cooking instead of doing maths,” she said. “Let’s go.” She strode off so promptly it surprised him.

He was puffed by the time he caught up to her, something that would change eventually when his wolf set in properly.

For now, he’d just have to deal with the embarrassment of struggling to keep up.

As they headed back inside the school, he found an unexpected calm between gasps of breath, calm as if shifter-phobic bullies had been a figment of his imagination, calm like the kind he felt when running with his pack.

His human sense began to spin again, and he steadied himself on a pillar as they rounded a corner.

He had to ground himself quickly before exposing whatever wolf part decided to show up when he walked into the classroom.

“Hey, Leonie, wanna buddy up for cooking today?” The words crashed out of him. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

Leonie held a finger to her cheek. “Hmm, I measure and you mix. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Then I would love to buddy up.” She gave him the brightest smile he’d swear he ever saw, and the back of his neck tingled.

* * *

Nearly a semester later, on a day without after-school music or maths tutoring, Hayden followed Leonie up a stone footpath flanked by perfect green lawn.

An electric gate slid shut behind them while three wide-eyed honeyeaters watched from lilly-pilly bushes lining the fence.

When the pair reached the front door, she froze and slapped a hand to her forehead.

“I just remembered we’re out of sugar,” she said. “We gotta go to Dewsons.”

“Don’t worry, I brought sugar.”

“You brought sugar? Do you just carry sugar around, weirdo?”

Hayden sneered playfully. “And I brought flour for the crust and vanilla essence. Mum said your folks shouldn’t have to pay for everything since this is for my music camp.”

“That’s so nice, Hayds. I didn’t even think of that!

” Leonie seemed to drift through the chilly and spacious foyer, lined with family photos.

Hayden followed her into a huge kitchen, ignoring a folded-up newspaper with a “SHIFTER HOME INVASION” headline on a dainty side table, and hurried the ingredients out of his bag.

Their friendship and cooking class partnership had formed at lightning speed since that first day, much to the delight of Leonie’s other best friend Samantha Jenkins.

But he didn’t mind Sam’s teasing looks and furtive “ooohs” when she thought Hayden was out of earshot.

He liked being Leonie’s buddy—he liked it a lot.

Cinnamon. Ginger. Nutmeg. Clove.

And that funny berry spice Hayden could never remember the name of.

It all mingled together with the butter, sugar, eggs, pumpkin puree, and the enigmatic waft of a preheating oven.

The kitchen smelled like heaven to his shifter senses, and it was all he could do not to roll over on the floor and just soak it up.

“What price should we set?” he asked, kneading the golden shortcrust dough. “How much would you pay for a tart?”

“A dollar.”

“It’s not 1924, Lee.”

“Very funny, Furball.” She flicked her wet hands at him, and his chest warmed at the nickname he’d earned by showing her a whisker once while washing dishes in the cooking room. “I meant a dollar if I was with my parents,” she clarified. “But we’d sell, like, twenty cos they buy in bulk.”

“That’s a good idea, we could do packs. How about two dollars for one and three for two?”

When the test batch was done, they sat on the back stoop, nibbling on blessedly fresh-baked pastry loaded with a spicy-sweet pumpkin filling.

“Where does cinnamon come from?” Leonie asked.

“I think it’s from a tree.”

“Like nuts?”

“Nah, cinnamon’s from bark.”

“Mm, delicious tree bark.”

Hayden snorted. “You’re weird, Lee.”

“I know. That’s why you love me.”

Her response struck him off-kilter and, once again, the world fell away.

It seemed to do that more lately, most often when he hung around Leonie, even though his wolf had mostly set in.

That word, love, wound its way into him.

His animal skin tingled like when catching the scent of the pack two blocks from home.

He had to ground himself again before he shifted.

He was sure by now Leonie wouldn’t mind, but he hated to lose control like some wild kid destined for trouble.

The wolf in him wanted out so badly, but he knew the golden rule: only shift when you’re in control.

Be the master of your body. It’s the only way to survive.

Hayden grinned. He had an idea. “Wanna see a cool trick?”

“Sure!”

He stood in the centre of a perfectly manicured patch of lawn beside a fenced-off swimming pool. “Chuck us a tart. Make it go really high.”

Leonie’s deft underhand sent a pastry flying.

Hayden sprang up and embraced the shift, melting into the moment.

His skin tingled with emerging fur, legs tensed as they changed shape, belly hide stretching in the mingled cold and heat of a sunny winter afternoon.

The world grew louder, richer, deeper, all the sounds and smells saturating his canine senses.

His jaws snapped shut on the pumpkin pie tartlet, the sweet-savoury-spice flavour filling him with delight, and he landed on all four paws and beamed at his human friend in the way only a wolf can beam.

Leonie squealed and clapped her hands, and Hayden just knew she’d be a friend for life. He trotted over to her, joy filling every fibre of his being. She put a hand out, tentatively, then drew it back.

“Is it okay if I . . . I mean . . .”

Hayden huffed. “Have you ever met a dog who doesn’t love a pat?”

“You can talk.”

“Of course I can talk. I’m still me. Go on.” He put his head under her hand, thrilled when she mussed the fur between his ears.

“Your tail is wagging, Hayds!”

A reflex in his left shoulder started shuddering when she scratched behind his ear.

His tail threatened to sway him into an expensive-looking flower pot.

He backed away, shrugging off an acrid smell he couldn’t place, and shifted back into human form, landing butt-first on the perfect lawn.

“I’m still working on shifting back without falling,” he said, sheepishly.

“That’s amazing. I’ve never seen someone shift before.”

“I’ve never shown anyone before. Anyone who wasn’t also a shifter, I mean.”

“I understand.” Leonie nodded. It was harder to spot sincerity in humans—you couldn’t just suss the nose and ears and whiskers and tail—but somehow Hayden knew she meant it.