Chapter 8 #2
Bessie’s Coffee Shop occupied a prime spot on the square, its large picture windows offering views of the fountain and the comings and goings of Ridge residents. The hand-painted sign swinging gently in the breeze featured a steaming coffee cup surrounded by the words World’s Best Coffee.
Brody opened the door, and we stepped into the bustling coffee shop.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee made my mouth water instantly.
Beneath that, the buttery warmth of pastry, the sweet tang of berries, the savory promise of bacon and cheese.
My shifter senses amplified every scent, breaking them down into their component parts in ways humans could never experience.
But cutting through it all was him, citrus and sandalwood and something uniquely, devastatingly male that made my cheetah pace restlessly beneath my skin. His scent wrapped around me like an invisible claim, marking me as his even as I fought against primal recognition.
The sound of his heartbeat filled my ears despite the coffee shop chatter, a steady rhythm that my own traitorously matched, beat for beat, as though our bodies remembered what our minds tried to forget.
When his shoulder brushed mine, heat bloomed across my skin, spreading outward from that single point of contact until I felt feverish.
Threading through the tables, we passed a tall, wide shelf displaying T-shirts and coffee mugs emblazoned with the slogan Bessie’s.
The World’s Best Coffee. for sale. Making my way across the shop, its walls filled with framed photos of various wilderness locations, I felt countless stares boring into me.
A few patrons sitting in the front turned to stare at me.
Other patrons at tables threw wary glances my way while some looked downright hostile.
Their scrutiny prickled my skin, a reminder of the outsider status I had worn like a second skin for so long.
Brody steered me to the large corner booth. Taking off my backpack, I slid in across from him.
The female server came up to our booth with menus. “Hey, Brody.”
“Hi, Bessie,” Brody returned.
Bessie’s warm, dark eyes and smile immediately put me at ease. With her black hair tied up in a messy bun, she wore a crisp black apron with the shop’s name, Bessie’s Coffee Shop, embroidered in elegant golden script across the front and adorned with various food-related buttons and pins.
Her eyes caught the café light as she greeted me, crinkling at the corners with a conspiratorial gleam that made me feel like we shared a secret I hadn’t learned yet.
“Hello, Doctor. I heard you riled up townsfolk at the town hall meeting last night.” She smiled.
“Great job. We need help, and they are too stuck in their ways to realize it. The witch coven’s got your back,” she added with a playful wink.
I blinked, my carefully prepared professional responses evaporating as her unexpected support registered. My shoulders, perpetually braced for hostility at the mention of my last name, lowered a fraction of an inch.
“Thank you.” My throat tightened unexpectedly, the sudden warmth in my chest catching me off guard. When was the last time someone had stood up for me without wanting something in return?
A smattering of customers were still staring at me.
Bessie turned to glare at them. “Go on now, mind your own biscuits and gravy,” she said, shooing them away with a flick of her wrist. They grumbled but did as they were told. “Pay them no mind, Rozi,” she said, handing me the one-page menu.
I scanned the menu quickly. “I’ll have the baked two-cheese-and-bacon grits and coffee with a cup of oat milk.” My mouth watered at the thought of the savory flavors awaiting me.
“Coffee for me,” Brody said, “and a slice of banana-pudding pie.”
“Pie for breakfast?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
Brody’s grin transformed his face from intimidating to boyishly charming in an instant, the dimple appearing in his left cheek sending an unwelcome flutter through my stomach.
“Life’s short,” he said, his voice dropping to a register that made the heat pool low in my belly.
“Might as well enjoy the sweet things while you can.”
“Some of us prefer substance over instant gratification,” I replied.
“Oh, I’m all for substance,” he replied, leaning forward slightly, his eyes darkening as they locked with mine. “But I’ve found the most… satisfying experiences come from both depth and pleasure.”
The double entendre hung in the air between us, electrified by a lifetime of denied desire. My body responded traitorously, nipples tightening against the soft cotton of my bra.
“Bessie’s has the best pies in Alaska,” he said, and I found myself staring at his mouth longer than was professionally appropriate, wondering for a second about all the wicked things his lips and tongue could do to my body.
“Damn right,” Bessie said while drawing a small square in the air over our table, her fingers leaving faint golden traces that shimmered momentarily before fading from view.
Her mouth moved in silent incantation, and the ambient noise of the café suddenly became muted, as though we’d stepped into a bubble separate from the rest of the world.
The air between us felt denser, charged with subtle energy that raised the fine hairs on my arms. “There, I just cast a privacy spell so you two can talk in peace without being overheard. Strongest one I know, blocks even shifter hearing,” she added with a wink that suggested she knew exactly what secrets needed protecting, then she walked away.
Brody leaned forward, his expression shifting to something more serious. “We need to establish security protocols, especially after the OIA’s warning that Tabia is behind the upcoming attempt to kidnap you.”
The shift to business territory was a relief. “I received Quinn’s text about it. I’m not worried about my grandmother.”
“Why not?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Tabia has been plotting, sabotaging, and stealing my research for years. This plan to kidnap me reeks of desperation. Besides, I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not the point. You could get hurt. Worse—killed.”
“I’m not reckless, Thornbern. I don’t have a fucking death wish. I just refuse to cower like some damsel in distress. I’ve been fighting her all my life, and I’ll continue doing so until I find a pre-feral solution that obliterates her entire business model.”
I thought of Tabia’s pharmaceutical empire, built on the suffering of unmated males, her monthly subscription treatments that cost thousands but only temporarily alleviated symptoms. The cruelty of profiting from pain while actively blocking research into permanent cures.
“That’s why she wants me dead or contained,” I continued. “Not just because I’m her granddaughter who rejected the family business, but because I’m genuinely close to creating something that would make her billions worthless overnight.”
“I won’t let her kidnap you,” he replied, a shadow crossing his features as his gaze flicked toward the window. For a split second, his focus shifted to something, or someone, outside, his eyes narrowing with predatory intent before returning to me.
“Neither will I,” I said, following his gaze but seeing only ordinary townsfolk passing by.
Still, a chill ran down my spine, the distinct sensation of being watched prickling across my skin.
My cheetah growled a warning deep in my consciousness.
Danger wasn’t just coming; it was already here, circling us like invisible smoke.
Bessie returned with our coffee, and I almost moaned at the rich aroma that rose from the cup.
I doctored my coffee with oat milk and raw sugar.
The ceramic mug warmed my palms as I lifted it to my lips.
My first sip confirmed it—this was possibly the best coffee I’d ever tasted, complex notes of chocolate and berry dancing across my tongue.
My eyelids fluttered closed for a millisecond before I caught myself.
Damn it. The last thing I needed was to give him the satisfaction of watching me melt over coffee.
“Good, right?” Brody asked, looking absurdly pleased by my reaction.
“It’s acceptable,” I lied, taking another sip to hide my expression.
His laugh was unexpected, deep and rich and alarmingly attractive. Something in my chest fluttered in response, and I ruthlessly squashed it down.
“So,” I said, desperate to maintain professional focus. “Tell me more about your laboratory setup at the Brewstillery.”
Brody leaned back in a way that made his broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his Henley. “Your equipment integration is complete,” he said. “We finished installing everything yesterday.”
“I’ve been curious about how you’ve adapted brewing equipment for experimental research,” I said, genuinely interested despite myself. “Tell me more about your tonic?”
“It’s really my grandma Una’s tonic recipe.
I’ve tried to replicate it. The crazy thing is that I had her journals tucked away in boxes after she died while I was serving in the military.
When I retired and came to live in the Ridge with the pack, I decided to find her recipes and revive her business of selling Home-Brew. ”
“So you’ve been working on your tonic for years with no progress?” I asked.
“Nope. I only found the journal with her tonic recipe about seven months ago, completely by mistake, after finally deciding to sort through boxes of her stuff to give away to charity. Call it luck or happenstance, but once I started reading and piecing together what she was trying to create, a way to ease pre-feral sickness symptoms, I knew I had to recreate her tonic in my Brewstillery.”
“For sale?” I asked.
“For free,” he replied. “Tabia is already bleeding the Others’ community dry with her pre-feral symptoms drugs. Unmated males need help, and she damn sure doesn’t give a shit about anything but profit.”
“Truth,” I said. “Tell me more about the damage to the journal.”