Chapter 2
Brice Andrews had never been so happy to smell like butter, sugar, and cinnamon. It was the smells that dreams were made of—at least hers were.
She stood in the narrow kitchen tucked behind the cafe’ counter at Hearth and Story.
She picked up a fresh pan of sugar cookies fresh from the oven and tried to not grin like a fool as she walked toward the front.
The cookies had come out just right. They were soft in the center, lightly golden around the edges and were dusted with sparkling red and green sugar that she insisted on using because if Evergreen Hollow took Christmas seriously, then she was going for it.
A laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it.
Six months ago, she’d stood in a cramped apartment kitchen in Boston and stared at a stack of overdue bills and wondered if she were losing her mind. She didn’t even know how she had gotten so far behind.
Now she owned a bookstore.
A real one with a little cafe built into it.
Not a little online storefront or a booth at a weekend market. Hearth and Story was hers. Every shelf, every chair, every mug stacked behind the coffee bar and every display of holiday romances and mystery novels.
She’d poured her life savings into the place. She had packed up her life and moved to the small town on the wild and crazy hope that she could build something for herself here.
Like a home.
So far, it had been the best decision she had ever made in her thirty-three years of life.
The old Mercer building had needed more work than she’d anticipated. Besides fresh paint, and refinishing the floors, it had needed new plumbing for the cafe, updated wiring, and more money to be poured into it than she had wanted to think about.
But the moment she stepped inside for the first time and saw the oversized windows, the exposed brick wall and the old stone fireplace at the back of the shop, she’d known her dream was about to come true.
It was like this place had been waiting for her.
And now just a few weeks after opening, Hearth and Story was doing well.
It wasn’t packed yet, but it had been busy enough that every time Brice looked out over the shop a warmth filled her chest.
She pushed the door open with her hip and went out into the storefront.
A couple in their sixties stood near the local interest section.
Their heads were bent together as they argued over whether the woman’s sister would prefer a memoir or a cookbook.
A young teenage girl in a dark knit sweater sat curled up in one of the oversized armchairs near the fireplace, reading with one leg tucked beneath her while a hot cup of coco rested on the small side table next to her.
Brice grinned at the sight of two little boys dragging their mother toward the children’s corner where Nandi was helping them find a book about snow monsters. Near the front, her other employee, Alanis, laughed with a customer while she rang them up.
The conversations, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine—this was what she’d dreamed of.
Matter of fact, this was better.
She hadn’t wanted to open the kind of bookstore where people rushed in, grabbed a bestseller and rushed out again. She wanted a place where readers could settle into a chair by the fire and lose an afternoon to a good story while snaking on pastries and drinking coffee.
The hearth room occupied the back corner of the store and had quickly become Brice’s favorite spot.
The stone fireplace dominated one wall and its mantle was draped with garland and white lights.
A Christmas tree stood in the corner near the reading nook.
It was decorated with book-themed ornaments, little glass balls and strings of gold ribbon.
Brice had arranged two deep armchairs, a sofa and a cluster of small side tables around a thick cream rug so customers could linger with a book and drink without feeling rushed.
Brice shifted the tray of cookies in her hands and placed them on the cafe counter.
A few strands of her hair had escaped the bun she had tried to put it in that morning.
She was fairly certain she probably had flour somewhere on her face and clothing, but she didn’t care. Today she was extremely happy.
Nandi walked behind the counter and groaned.
“It’s criminal how good those cookies smell,” she said, sniffing the air.
Brice laughed at the tortured expression on her employee’s face. “You can have one if you like.”
“I already have had one of each of the other cookies you’ve brought out. By the end of the week, I’m going to have eaten my entire paycheck.” Nandi giggled.
“It's Christmas. I’ll turn a blind eye to the missing cookies,” Brice teased.
“Now don’t tell me that.” Nandi grinned. Her eyes sparked as she laughed again. “My hips definitely won’t be happy. Your cookies are to die for though.”
“Well you sort of requested these.” Brice reminded her. She picked one up and handed it to Nandi who didn’t hesitate in taking it from her. “I remember there was a not-so-subtle threat made on my life if I didn’t make this batch today.”
“It wasn’t a threat…” Nandi took a bite and groaned again. “It was just a heavily worded suggestion that these should be made. I’m not the only one that loves these.”
Brice began putting the cookies away with a smile on her face that was probably permanent by now.
The bell above the front door chimed. The sound was small and ordinary.
It was just a soft jingle over the music and the low conversations, but it was enough to make Brice glance at the door at the newcomer.
Everything in her paused—her heart, her breathing, her hands.
A woman stood in the doorway, one gloved hand still curled around the brass handle.
She had broad shoulders and was tall, easily over six feet tall.
The woman had deep brown skin and a face that might have looked severe on someone else but somehow only made her more striking.
Her dark locs were pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck.
The style exposed her sharp cheekbones and strong jaw.
She was draped in a thick charcoal coat that wrapped around her powerful frame.
Her eyes captivated Brice first.
There was something in the amber depths, something feral lurking beneath the surface. It wasn’t uncommon to see someone with amber eyes, and Brice had learned quickly that the wolves carried themselves differently than humans and it was their eyes that gave them away first.
The woman was a shifter.
The stranger didn’t move. She just stood on the threshold and stared into the shop as if she had forgotten why she had come.
Brice had only been in Evergreen Hollow for six months but she already knew the town was full of stories. One didn’t move to a town where humans and shifters lived side by side without learning to get to know them.
Brice had had the opportunity to meet the alpha, Rue Biljon once at the town council welcome dinner she had been invited to. Alanis, her other employee, was a shifter and was a member of the pack along with several of her regular customers.
Still there was something about this woman that made the room feel smaller.
Brice stepped out from behind the counter intent on greeting her. Before she could say anything, Alanis made her way from the register and smiled at the woman. “Keena!”
The woman—Keena—blinked then shifted her gaze to Alanis.
“I didn’t know you were going to be stopping by today,” Alanis continued. Brice caught a small flicker of something that crossed Keena’s face.
“Just patrolling and figured I’d stop in,” Keena said. Her voice was low and smooth. It was the kind of voice that settled in Brice’s chest. She bit back a sigh at the shiver that rippled its way down her spine at the sound of it.
The woman could read the dictionary and Brice would eagerly hang on to every word she spoke.
“Well you came on a good day. Brice just pulled some sugar cookies out of the oven.” She reached Keena’s side and lightly touched her arm. “Come and meet the woman responsible for all of this holiday chaos in the store.”
Keena’s expression tightened for a moment, but she allowed Alanis to guide her farther into the shop.
Brice suddenly became aware of herself and what she must look like.
She glanced down and grimaced. There was flour on her sleeve, the loose tendrils of her hair were sticking to her slightly damp cheek.
Even her hands had sugar on them. She spun around and grabbed one of the towels and wiped them off.
She turned back as Alanis and Keena arrived in front of her. She offered a hand to Keena and smiled.
“Hi, I’m Brice. Welcome to Hearth and Story.”
Keena looked at her outstretched hand for a moment and Brice thought for a second that she wouldn’t take it.. She was about to pull it back before Keena’s strong, larger hand engulfed hers. The second their palms touched, something hot and electric raced up Brice’s arm.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sensation that whipped through her.
It wasn’t painful. It was more like a jolt of awareness that made every nerve in her body awaken. Brice’s heart rate skyrocketed so high that she had a hard time catching her breath.
Keena reacted even more strongly. Her fingers flexed around Brice’s hand before she yanked it away as though she’d been burned.
Brice’s smile faltered. She didn’t know what it meant, but by the look on Keena’s face, she was not happy about whatever had just occurred.
Her intense stare fixed on Brice. Up close the woman was even more beautiful than she’d seemed from across the room.
There was a faint hint of a scar on her chin.
Her lashes were unbelievably thick and most women would kill for theirs to look like hers—Brice included.
Brice’s gaze dropped down to her mouth—holy gumdrops.
Brice could barely stop looking at her full pouty lips.