4. James/ Rafael
James/ Rafael
JAMES
The bell above the bakery door jingled, and the warm scent of brown sugar and cinnamon wrapped around me like a hug.
If I hadn’t already eaten my weight in pastries this morning, I might’ve drooled. I didn’t come for the pastries, though.
Okay, technically I came for almond flour, but that was just a very convenient excuse. We had run out this morning, and Callum told me to ask Bear and Bun.
I jumped at the chance. Probably a little too quickly, if I was being honest. I scanned the bakery and spotted him right away. Rafael.
Leaning over the counter, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with flour like some kind of grumpy, brooding baking god.
Gosh, he looked good. He always looked good. My wolf stirred in the background, tail flicking in quiet excitement.
“Hey,” I said, walking up to the counter with what I hoped was a casual smile.
Rafael looked up, eyes widening slightly before he schooled his face back into its usual scowl. “You lost?”
I smirked. “Nope. Almond flour?”
He blinked. “Almond flour?”
“Yeah. You guys have any to spare? We ran out,” I said.
He stared at me like I was trying to pull a fast one. Technically, I was. Kind of. But it wasn’t a complete lie.
“Right. Almond flour.” He sighed, clearly skeptical, but turned away. “I’ll check the back.”
As he disappeared into the kitchen, the other bears around the shop looked at each other. Then at me.
Oh no.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Cassian said, leaning one hip against the counter and sipping his iced coffee like he had all the time in the world.
“Did you get lost on your way to Wolf and Whisk?” Leo added, grinning over a tray of freshly glazed cinnamon knots.
“I’m just here for almond flour,” I said, holding my hands up in mock surrender.
“Uh huh,” Dorian said, raising an eyebrow.
Sean, bless him, stepped in before things got too out of hand. “Leave him alone, you guys. Maybe he really is here for almond flour.”
“Maybe,” Cass said, dragging out the word.
Thankfully, Rafael returned then, holding a large bag of almond flour and looking suspiciously flushed.
“Here,” he muttered, thrusting it into my arms.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it carefully. “I owe you guys.”
“You owe me,” he corrected. “That stuff’s not cheap.”
His tone was gruff, but there was no real heat behind it. My wolf was practically wagging its tail.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I said with a wink.
That was met with a snort from Cass and another round of teasing from Leo and Dorian.
Sean clapped his hands. “Okay, enough matchmaking. Some of us are trying to work.”
Rafael muttered something under his breath and shot me a look I couldn’t quite place. Embarrassment? Irritation? Hope?
I wasn’t sure.
But then he said, just loud enough for me to hear, “You can come over whenever. If you need stuff. We’ve helped Wolf and Whisk before.”
It was a gruff olive branch, but it still felt like progress. My heart gave a hopeful thump.
Cass, of course, grinned like a jackal. “Aw, that’s sweet. Rafael doesn’t share with anyone.”
“Shut it,” Rafael growled.
I bit my lip to stop from laughing, clutching the bag of flour tighter to my chest.
“Thanks again,” I said, stepping back.
Rafael gave a jerky nod, then disappeared behind the counter again. His ears were pink. As I headed toward the door, I couldn’t stop the grin that stretched across my face.
Was it foolish to get my hopes up? Maybe.
Okay, probably.
But I’d seen something different in Rafael lately. Ever since our awkward, tense almost-fight outside the bakery last week, something had shifted.
He wasn’t quite as guarded. Still grumpy, still ready with a scowl that could curdle milk. But there were cracks in that armor now.
Tiny, hesitant cracks where the warmth slipped through. Little moments where he softened, where he lingered just a second too long, where his eyes didn’t look right through me.
They looked at me. He didn’t hate me. He was just scared to like me. And honestly? I got it.
I wasn’t stupid. I saw the way he froze when my name flashed on his phone the other day, how he shut down like a steel door slamming shut.
Whoever “Kellen” was, and yeah, I saw that name too, had clearly done a number on him. There was pain behind Rafael’s sarcasm.
There was fear under his silence. And I didn’t want to bulldoze over that. I just wanted to be let in, even if it was one cautious step at a time.
I didn’t want to be just another guy with a flirty smile and a good line. I didn’t want to be someone he regretted. I wanted to be someone he trusted.
The funny thing was, everyone assumed flirting came easy to me. That I was always chasing the next guy, batting my lashes, making innuendos for fun.
And yeah, I played into that. It was easier to be the carefree guy who didn’t get serious, who didn’t get hurt.
But the truth? I hadn’t been in many relationships. Not real ones. Not when I spent most of my adult life cleaning up after a brother who liked to gamble more than he liked breathing.
When you’re sending every spare dollar to a debt collector to keep your brother out of a shallow grave, romance tends to take a back seat.
So yeah, I flirted. I teased. I pretended. But Rafael… he made me feel things I didn’t know I still had the capacity for.
I wanted to be close to him. Not just under him - though damn, the idea of that did make my brain short-circuit - but with him. In the quiet ways. In the hard ways. In the everyday.
I wanted him to know me. All of me. The good, the stubborn, the still-struggling parts. And maybe… maybe the almond flour was a good place to start.
It was a small thing, sure. A bag of finely milled nuts. But it gave me a reason to walk into his space, to bridge that little bit of distance without making it a big thing.
And more than that, it gave me purpose. Because tonight? I was going to bake something for him. Not to show off. To give.
I didn’t want to impress him with some fancy layered dessert or something ridiculous with gold leaf.
I wanted to hand him something warm and sweet and made with intention. Made with him in mind. So I was going to bake the best dang almond cookies this town had ever seen.
My special ones, the ones with honey glaze, the perfect chewy texture, a whisper of orange zest, and a sprinkle of flaky sea salt right before they cooled.
Because maybe a cookie couldn’t change a guy’s mind, but it could make him smile. And that? That would be enough for now.
* * *
RAFAEL
I was ready to put the entire day behind me and go home.
The bakery smelled like sugar and cinnamon, warm and comforting. but I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it. My back ached, my feet hurt, and Beau was supposed to be helping me close up, but where was he?
Upstairs, sorting through invoices because some supplier shipped us thirty pounds of rye flour instead of wheat.
Typical.
I shoved a tray into the dishwasher with a little more force than necessary and grumbled under my breath.
The front lights were dimmed, chairs flipped, and the bell over the door should’ve stayed silent for the rest of the night.
Instead, it jingled.
“We’re closed,” I barked automatically, not even looking up.
“Yeah, I figured.” That voice was too chipper for this late in the day, and far too familiar.
I turned toward the front, and there he was.
James stood in the entrance, apron still tied around his waist, strands of his dark hair falling into his eyes.
He held a small pastry box in one hand, a playful grin dancing at the corners of his mouth like this was some kind of casual drop-by and not a direct assault on my peace and quiet.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying not to sound as defensive as I felt.
“Returning the favor,” he said. “You dropped off that misdelivered package the other day. I figured I’d bring you something sweet in return.”
He stepped forward, ignoring my scowl, and set the box down on the counter beside the register.
“Almond cookies. My specialty. Figured it’s only fair you taste what we’re working with across the street.”
I stared at the box, then at him.
“There’s also a note,” he added. “But, uh, don’t take the pun too seriously.”
I lifted the corner of the lid and spotted the handwritten card tucked between the cookies.
“Hope these aren’t too nutty. –J”
I stared at it a little too long.
Before I could gather a single response, which was probably along the lines of something neutral, gruff, preferably non-flustered, James was already backing toward the door.
“Anyway. Have a good night, Grumpy Bear,” he said, tossing me a wink.
The door jingled again, and he was gone.
I blinked once. Then again. Then sighed like the world personally offended me. Grumbling, I grabbed the nearest cookie and bit into it.
Crisp edges, soft center, just the right amount of almond. Dang it. Of course it was delicious.
I ate two more before I realized I was still standing there like some moony idiot, staring at the spot James had just been. I scowled at the box like it was somehow to blame.
The stairs creaked.
Beau appeared from the hallway, holding a clipboard. “Hey, sorry I - ooh, are those from Wolf and Whisk?”
He reached over and snatched one before I could move the box. “Smells like almond.”
I slapped his hand lightly. “You’ve got your own stash, you know.”
“Not almond cookies,” he said, taking a huge bite and humming in appreciation. “James drop these off?”
I didn’t answer.
Beau raised an eyebrow. “He did. Okay. So what’s with the thundercloud expression? You do realize it’s fine to accept a nice gesture without looking like someone punched your favorite kneading dough.”
“He’s persistent,” I muttered, shoving the lid closed and crossing my arms.
“You say that like it’s a crime.” Beau leaned against the counter and gave me a knowing look. The kind only a best friend could get away with.
I hated that look.
“He’s not who you think he is,” I said, voice low.
Beau tilted his head. “You mean he’s not Kellen.”
That name hit harder than I expected. I flinched, jaw tightening. “Exactly.”
“You keep waiting for him to prove you right. But maybe he’s trying to prove you wrong.”
“He’s a flirt,” I snapped. “He’s always smiling, always saying something slick. It’s just... fake.”
“Maybe that’s just his armor,” Beau said. “Same way grump and growl is yours.”
I frowned. “He doesn’t know what I’ve been through.”
“No, but he’s trying to know you now.” Beau’s tone gentled. “And you can’t keep shutting out people who actually want to stick around. Not forever.”
I stared at the box. At the pun on the card. My chest squeezed tight, and not in a way I was ready to name.
“I didn’t ask him to stick around,” I muttered.
“Nope. But he’s showing up anyway. And you didn’t toss the cookies in the trash, so don’t act like you hate it,” Beau said.
I opened my mouth to deny it. It was instinct, mostly, but the words didn’t come. Because I didn’t hate it. Not even close.
I rolled my eyes, snatched the box off the counter, and stomped into the back kitchen like the whole thing didn’t matter.
Like I hadn’t memorized the way James’s eyes crinkled when he smiled or the exact pitch of his laugh when he was teasing me.
Beau’s chuckle followed me like a damn ghost. “Just admit he’s growing on you, grumpy bear.”
I flipped him off over my shoulder, but my heart wasn’t in it.
In the solitude of the kitchen, I set the box down again and leaned both hands on the edge of the counter, head bowed.
The scent of almond and butter hung in the air, deceptively light, like it didn’t carry weight. But it did. The cookies. The note.
James just showing up, even after how many times I brushed him off. Hell, after how many times I’ve practically growled in his direction.
And yet he kept trying.
My bear stirred in my chest, restless. Not angry, but hopeful. Like he could sense something worth holding onto. Someone.
I hated how right Beau was. Again.
Because if I didn’t do something soon, if I didn’t pull my head out of my own ass and start meeting James halfway, he was going to stop trying.
And I wouldn’t blame him.
No one wants to keep knocking on a closed door forever. Not even someone as annoyingly persistent as James.
At some point, even he’d get tired of being shut out. And once he walked away… I had a feeling that’d be it. Not just losing a flirt or a crush.
Losing something that could’ve been real, and that? That terrified me more than anything.