Bear and Wolf (Sugarpaw Springs #2)

1. Rafael

Rafael

I woke up to my phone buzzing like it was trying to shake the whole dang nightstand apart. It hadn’t even been two seconds and the world was already getting on my nerves.

I reached out blindly and smacked at the screen until it went silent. When I cracked one eye open and saw the name flashing across the display.

Kellan. I groaned out loud. Not this again. Missed calls. Voicemails. Texts. All from the same idiot who never quite figured out how to let go.

I didn’t need to listen to the voicemails to know what they’d say.

Some mix of half-hearted apologies, vague threats, and the kind of sweet-talking that used to work on me back when I was stupid and twenty-two.

I wasn’t twenty-two anymore. And I sure wasn’t stupid.

Still, the damage was done. I was wide awake now, stomach twisted in that old, familiar knot.

The one that tightened every time I remembered how far I’d let him drag me down in Ironfalls. I rubbed my hand over my face and muttered a curse. Great start to the day.

Coffee didn’t help. Neither did the cold shower or the fact that I’d somehow left my only clean hoodie at the laundromat the night before.

I tugged on one of Beau’s Bear and Bun extras. It was tight across the chest and annoyingly cheery with its peach-colored logo.

I grunted when I caught my reflection. I looked like a grizzly forced into a cartoon mascot suit.

The ride to the bakery didn’t help my mood either. Every slow driver in Sugarpaw Springs must’ve conspired to crawl in front of me.

And then someone had the nerve to wave cheerfully when I honked.

By the time I walked through the back door of Bear and Bun, I was a walking thundercloud.

My jaw was tight, my boots tracked in rainwater, and I barely managed a nod at Sean as I passed him in the hallway.

He gave me that cautious little smile he reserved for people who looked one step away from snapping. Smart guy.

Beau met me just inside the kitchen, hands braced on the prep counter. He looked like he’d been waiting. Not good.

“What,” I said flatly.

“Morning to you too,” he said, completely unfazed by my tone.

I raised an eyebrow. Beau sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“We’ve got a problem. Caleb’s out sick. Flu. We need someone to take the morning deliveries,” Beau explained.

“Okay,” I said, glancing past him.

Cassian was elbow-deep in frosting. Dorian was arranging croissants like he was curating art. Leo was humming to himself as he hauled a tray out of the oven.

Sean was setting out to-go bags. I gestured vaguely at all of them.

“So why me?” I asked.

Cassian snorted without looking up. “Because you’re so good at customer service, sunshine.”

“Don’t,” I said, glaring at him. “Not today.”

Dorian tilted his head and gave me a lazy grin. “Rafael’s in one of his moods again.”

“I’m always in one of my moods,” I grumbled.

Sean stepped forward, holding out the tablet with the delivery list.

“Sorry,” he said softly, apologetic eyes big and kind. “I know you don’t like deliveries, but the first few aren’t too far. Mostly regulars.”

I took the tablet without responding. It wasn’t Sean’s fault. I didn’t want to bite his head off.

Beau came closer and lowered his voice. “You okay?”

“No,” I said. “But I will be.”

He studied me for a second like he knew that meant “don’t ask”. Then he nodded. “Thanks for covering.”

“Next time, I get to draw straws,” I pointed out.

“We did,” Cassian said, licking frosting off his finger. “Yours was the short one.”

I gave him the finger on my way to the truck.

The delivery van smelled like old flour and cinnamon, which would have been comforting on a better day.

On this one, it just reminded me I hadn’t eaten and probably wouldn’t until noon. I tossed the tablet on the passenger seat and slammed the door shut behind me.

The rain had stopped, but my hoodie was already damp, and my jeans stuck to the back of my legs.

I started the engine and let it idle for a second. Another buzz. My phone lit up on the dashboard.

1 new voicemail from Kellan.

I exhaled through my nose and resisted the urge to chuck the phone out the window. Why now? Why again? He’d made his bed.

Burned it, really, and I was done crawling back into the ashes. But it still got to me. Not because I missed him. I didn’t.

I missed who I thought he was. Who he pretended to be.

And every time he came clawing back, I remembered how easy it had been to fall for that act. How hard it had been to crawl away from it.

I pulled out of the parking lot harder than necessary. Tires screeched a little. Screw it.

* * *

The first delivery was to the bookstore. The old lady who ran it always slipped me hard candies and called me dear, which normally earned her a rare Rafael smile.

Today, I grunted, dropped off the bag of lemon scones, and nodded stiffly when she told me I looked like I needed more sleep.

The second stop wasn’t much better. The twins who ran the plant shop kept trying to set me up with their cousin, who was “so your type.”

I smiled exactly once and at the cactus in the window, and got out of there fast.

By the third stop, I was fuming. Some guy in a suit tried to flirt with me when I handed over his coffee order.

When I didn’t smile back, he said I was lucky Bear and Bun had good pastries or he’d stop ordering.

“Great,” I muttered on the way back to the truck. “Maybe do.”

The worst part? The quiet between stops. It gave me too much room to think. Too much time to replay that last voicemail in my head even though I hadn’t listened to it.

I knew Kellan’s voice. Knew how he’d sound. Like honey and gasoline. Sweet enough to tempt. Sharp enough to burn.

He’d probably say something like, “You remember that night in the rain, Raf? I still dream about it.”

Or worse, he’d bring up my mom. The vicious fights Beau and I got into and him waiting to patch us both up. He knew where the bruises were.

I clenched the steering wheel so hard my knuckles cracked. I didn’t need this. Not today.

* * *

My luck ran out somewhere between Maple Street and hell.

The delivery van rattled once, coughed, then gave one last mechanical wheeze before the engine cut out entirely.

I swore under my breath and slammed my palm against the wheel.

“Of course,” I muttered. “Of course you’d die here, you piece of crap.”

I shoved the door open and stepped out, the early afternoon sun already too damn bright.

My boots hit the pavement with a thud as I rounded the front of the van, lifting the hood more out of spite than actual hope.

A curl of steam hissed out like the van itself was laughing at me. Something smelled burnt. Maybe coolant, maybe my patience.

I glared at the engine, arms crossed, jaw tight. I wasn’t a mechanic. I baked things.

Occasionally I carried things. I was not qualified for mid-day engine CPR on a street that just so happened to be—

I froze. No. No, no, no. I looked up slowly, dread sinking into my stomach like a stone in syrup.

There it was. Wolf and Whisk. Not twenty feet away. And standing just outside, wearing a flour-dusted apron and a stupidly smug smile?

James. Great. The universe clearly had it out for me today.

The irritating wolf spotted me instantly. His eyes lit up with way too much enthusiasm, like this was the highlight of his week.

I straightened, wiped my hands on my jeans, and tried to pretend I didn’t notice him. Tried being the key word.

“Trouble in paradise?” came that annoyingly smooth voice.

I closed the hood with a slam and sighed. “Don’t you have muffins to burn or something?”

He laughed. “We only burn them on special occasions.”

I turned to face him. James leaned casually against the doorframe.

His arms were crossed, his tawny brown hair tied back in a messy little knot that shouldn’t have looked good on anyone.

He had that whole infuriatingly effortless charm going on, like he just rolled out of bed looking like a magazine cover and decided to annoy me on purpose.

Unfortunately, my bear had a type. Tall, flirty, dangerously pretty wolves with fast smiles and too much confidence.

James reminded me of Kellan. Not in looks. Kellan had been slick, polished, always with a mirror nearby.

But there was something in James’s easy charm. The way he used humor to poke and prod, that sent a warning signal straight through me.

My bear didn’t care. It leaned forward like an idiot, ears perked.

“Engine trouble?” he asked, stepping down the front stoop.

“Just needed to cool off,” I said. “It’s like me. Hates being looked at.”

“Mmhm. Looks like you’re stuck.” His tone made it clear he didn’t hate the idea.

“Thanks for the observation, Sherlock.”

James shrugged. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got a car. I could give you a lift back to Bear and Bun. Unless you’d prefer to wait here for Beau to come rescue you?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of calling a tow.”

“Sure, but I’m already here, and honestly…” He leaned a little closer. “I kind of want to see what you look like when you’re forced to sit in my passenger seat.”

“Like someone regretting every life choice that led to this moment,” I muttered.

He grinned. “Come on, Grumpy Bear. Live a little.”

Grumpy Bear? My stomach flipped. Dang him.

I should’ve said no. Should’ve told him to walk back inside and keep playing charming bakery prince to someone else. But the sun was hot, my phone battery was dying.

And fine, I didn’t actually hate the idea of spending a little time in an air-conditioned car. Even if that car came with James’s smug little smirk and way too much cologne.

I grunted. “Fine. One ride. No talking.”

He threw me a mock salute. “Absolutely, sir.”

The inside of his car smelled like vanilla and citrus. Not bad, exactly. Just...dangerously nice. Like him.

I slumped into the passenger seat, arms crossed, and stared out the window.

James hummed as he started the engine, the song on the radio some kind of mellow indie pop I’d never admit to liking.

“You always this chatty?” he asked after a minute of silence.

“I said no talking,” I grumbled.

“I thought that was just a suggestion.”

“Everything out of your mouth is a suggestion,” I grumbled.

He laughed. “That sounded almost like a compliment.”

I didn’t answer. My bear stirred again, and I mentally shoved it back. Not happening. I’d been through this before.

I’d been charmed by pretty smiles and teasing words, let myself believe someone saw something in me beyond the growls and the temper.

Kellan had known how to twist my heart like a screw, always acting like I was lucky to be noticed. Always saying the right thing until it turned out he’d been saying the same thing to half the damn clan.

James was dangerous for the same reasons. He didn’t even have to try. He just was.

“Why do you do that?” I asked suddenly.

“Do what?” he said, glancing at me with a sideways smile.

“Flirt with everyone. Be...like that. All the time,” I said.

He arched a brow. “You mean charming?”

“I mean annoying,” I pointed out.

He chuckled. “It’s not flirting. It’s just how I talk. You ever consider you might just be fun to mess with?”

My jaw clenched. “You’re not exactly original.”

“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his chest. “You wound me, Grumpy Bear.”

I didn’t respond. I was too busy trying to stop my heart from doing that stupid jump thing every time he called me that.

He didn’t push it, which was weirdly...worse. I expected him to keep teasing, but he just let the quiet settle between us.

We drove past the river bend and the little farmer’s market stand, and something in the calm made it harder to hold onto my irritation. That pissed me off even more.

“How long are you going to pretend I haven’t grown on you?” he said after a beat.

“Until I die,” I muttered.

He laughed again, full-bodied and warm, like sunshine in a bottle. I hated how good it sounded. Hated how it made something in me soften.

“Fine. Denial it is,” he said, pulling into the back lot behind Bear and Bun.

He parked and looked over at me, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

James continued, “But I think underneath all that grump, there’s a guy who doesn’t actually mind me.”

I opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime, Grumpy Bear.”

I paused, hand on the door, and glared at him. He winked. I slammed the door shut behind me.

Inside, my bear was practically wagging its tail like an idiot. I told it to shut up.

This wasn’t going to end well.

Not with a guy like James.