Brownies for My Grumpy Bunny (Fairhaven Falls #10)

Chapter 1

Sara opened another box of Christmas decorations and sighed.

She usually loved decorating for the holidays but this year she’d spent the three weeks between semesters arranging for the move from Charlotte to Fairhaven Falls.

The best she’d been able to do was a small artificial tree decorated with the ornaments her kindergarten students had given her over the years.

It had been the last thing she packed before the moving truck arrived to collect her boxes and her meager assortment of furniture.

The mover had been a very large and very attractive troll, a vivid reminder that she was moving to a town that was populated mainly by Others, the creatures of myth and legend who lived alongside humans.

Although he wasn’t the first one she’d met, most Others tended to prefer small towns like Fairhaven Falls.

The knowledge still made her a little nervous, but if they were all as friendly as Eric, the very flirtatious mover, she had nothing to worry about.

Closing the box again, she added a new label to the top and carried it into what was euphemistically called a second bedroom but was barely larger than a walk-in closet, and added it to the neat stack along one wall to be dealt with “some day.”

“Hopefully before I have to move again,” she muttered. Four moves in six years was enough to challenge anyone’s optimism, but that was part of the reason she’d chosen Fairhaven Falls, hoping this time things would be different.

Returning to the living room, she gave a satisfied nod.

The sunny yellow walls, gleaming hardwood floors, and the fireplace with its pretty blue and white tiles made a charming backdrop for her white slip-covered couch and chair.

Once she found her collection of pillows and throws it would look even better.

The house felt right, like it was just waiting for her to fill it with warmth and laughter.

And curtains, she thought, adding it to her mental list of chores.

Something to frame the long windows that flooded the room with pale winter sunlight.

Something to block her view of the house next door which was a little too close for comfort.

Not that she’d caught a glimpse of her neighbors yet, despite the proximity of the two houses. I should go and introduce myself.

As if in response, someone knocked briskly on her front door, making her jump so hard she knocked over a lamp that hadn’t been plugged in yet.

“Coming.”

Instead of her neighbor, she found a tiny old woman with skin the color of spring moss and short white curls standing on her door step.

Her eyes sparkled like chips of obsidian, sharp and knowing.

She was wearing a hot pink velour tracksuit that read “AGING LIKE FINE WINE. TWICE AS INTOXICATING.” across the chest.

She gave Sara a cheerful grin, revealing teeth that were a little too sharp for comfort, and Sara smiled back.

“Hi, Flora.”

“Good morning, dear.” Flora thrust a wicker basket into Sara’s arms as she skipped past her into the cottage, looking around with an approving nod. “Very nice. I knew you were the right person for the job.”

Flora had been one of the people who had interviewed her for her new job at Fairhaven Falls Elementary school, but she couldn’t see why her home decorating skills made any difference.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously. “I’m glad the town approved my application.”

“How could we not? Your references were excellent, your brownies won three county fair ribbons—”

“How do you know about the brownies?”

“—and the town needs more humans who actually want to be here, not ones running away from something.” Flora tilted her head, studying her with an intensity that made her feel like a butterfly pinned to a board. “You’re not running away from something, are you?”

She thought about her cramped Charlotte apartment. About the tumultuous years since she graduated. About her mother’s pointed questions about when she was going to “settle down and find someone.”

“I’d like to think I’m running towards something instead.”

“Or someone?” Flora’s attempt to look innocent failed miserably.

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “Men are nothing but trouble.”

“Ah, but the males in Fairhaven Falls are nothing like human men.” Before she could think of a response, Flora slipped past her into the small dining room and opened the French doors that led out onto the back porch. “This garden definitely needs some work.”

Flora wasn’t wrong. The light dusting of snow couldn’t disguise the fact that the garden was completely overgrown, plants spilling over their beds.

The only neat thing about it was the tall privacy fence separating her garden from her neighbor’s with military precision, and even that was softened by the sprawling plants.

“I don’t really mind,” she told Flora. “I’d like to add some flowers in the spring, but I don’t want it too neat. I like encouraging the local wildlife.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Flora’s eyes sparkled before she tilted her head thoughtfully. “But you could certainly make it easier. Maybe put out some bunny food by the fence, just to be neighborly.”

She laughed despite herself. “Bunny food? Like… carrots?”

“Lettuce. Herbs. Carrots are actually not as good for them as people think, too much sugar, but—” Flora’s grin was pure mischief. “—the gesture counts for something.”

Gesture? Why would a wild animal care about a gesture? Shaking her head, she changed the subject.

“Do you know anything about my neighbors?”

“He’s a grumpy bastard but he’s got a good heart. And his type can be very… energetic.” Flora waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Wait. Did she mean…? No. That couldn’t be what she meant. Before she could gather up the courage to ask, Flora skipped past her.

“Must dash. Just remember the bunny food.”

And then she was gone, slipping out the front door with surprising speed for someone her age, leaving Sara standing in her living room with a gift basket and a confused look on her face.

Bunny food. Why was that so important?

She set the basket on the kitchen counter and tried to return to unpacking.

She really did. She made it through an entire box of kitchen utensils, found a place for her cast iron skillet, and discovered that yes, she had packed the stand mixer in the same box as her winter boots, and no, she couldn’t explain why.

“You’d think I’d have this down by now,” she muttered as she placed the last set of dishes into the cabinet.

The kitchen was small but efficient with wooden cabinets painted a soft green and pristine white appliances.

Her striped tea towels and floral apron added a nice splash of color, but her gaze kept drifting out to her overgrown garden and that tall fence.

Shaking her head, she turned back to the kitchen and opened Flora’s basket.

A loaf of rustic homemade bread and a jar of homemade blackberry jam.

A bundle of dried lavender and sage wrapped in brown paper.

A bottle of wine that had no label, but when she held it up to the light, the liquid inside seemed to shimmer slightly, like it contained captured starlight.

Curious, she poured a small amount into one of her vintage glasses and took a sip.

It was sweet but with a surprising, peppery finish that made her tongue tingle and left a pleasant warmth in her stomach.

It was nothing like any wine she had ever tasted.

She took another sip, then set the glass aside.

At the bottom of the basket was a small paper bag with a handwritten note. For the bunny. Inside was a colorful mix of dried herbs and what looked like little pellets of compressed hay. She picked up the note, reading it again with a frown.

I really don’t understand this bunny obsession.

But Flora’s words echoed in her mind. The gesture counts for something. Maybe it was some type of weird Fairhaven Falls welcome wagon tradition. If she was going to put down roots here, maybe it was best to just play along.

Slipping on her boots and a thick cardigan, she grabbed the bag of “bunny food” and went out into the backyard.

The snow crunched under her feet, the cold air sharp and clean.

She walked towards the fence, the overgrown garden brushing against her jeans, then started scattering the contents of the bag along the base of the perfectly straight cedar planks.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Her heart nearly stopped.

The voice came from somewhere above and behind her. Deep, rough, with an edge of barely controlled irritation. She spun around, stumbled backwards, and found herself pressed against the fence looking up at the largest man she’d ever seen.

No. Not a man. An Other.

He towered over her—six foot four at least, maybe taller—with shoulders broad enough to block out the sun.

His ears rose from the top of his head, long and pointed and covered in the same silvery grey fur that seemed to coat his entire body including the strong, angular lines of his face. Rabbit ears? He was a rabbit Other?

Despite the cold he was only wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms corded with muscle. His eyes were a startlingly bright blue, and they were fixed on her with an expression of pure annoyance.

“I asked you a question.” His ears flicked backwards in a gesture that radiated irritation. “What are you doing with that?”

“I—nothing! I mean—” Her voice came out squeaky. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I just moved in next door? Sara Cartwright. I’m the new—”

“I know who you are.” The words came out flat and unimpressed. “The whole town knows. Flora’s been telling everyone within earshot about the new kindergarten teacher.”

“Right. Yes. That’s me.” She stuck out her hand automatically, the way she’d been taught to greet parents at back-to-school night. “Nice to meet you.”

He stared at her hand like it might bite him, and she awkwardly let it drop.

Great start, Sara. Really nailing this whole first impression thing.

“I’m Ben Holloway,” he said reluctantly after a pause that stretched just past uncomfortable. “I own the Moonlight Tavern in town. And I’d appreciate it if you kept your… pranks… to yourself.”

“Pranks?” She blinked. “What pranks?”

His ears twitched again. “The treats, Miss Cartwright.”

“Sara. And the treats weren’t—”

“Did Flora put you up to this?” His voice dropped into a dangerous rumble. “Because I’ve told her a hundred times, I’m not interested in being set up, and I don’t need some human newcomer thinking she can—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She held up both hands, heat flooding her cheeks. “Nobody’s setting anyone up. I was just trying to welcome the local wildlife, and Flora suggested—”

Oh no. The impact of what she’d done swept over her and her hands flew to her burning cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Truly. I wasn’t trying to mock you or… or stereotype you, or whatever you’re thinking. I had no idea who you were.”

His ears twitched almost imperceptibly.

“Flora thinks she’s clever,” he said. His voice was still cold, but something in it had shifted. “She thinks this is funny.”

“It wasn’t meant as a joke,” she said. “Honestly. She kept talking about bunnies, and I thought she meant actual bunnies.” She gestured vaguely towards the overgrown garden. “You know. The fluffy, twitchy-nose kind.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his blue eyes unreadable. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Then, he let out a short, sharp breath that might have been a laugh in a different life.

“I’m not fluffy,” he said, but the harshness was gone, replaced by a weary resignation that made him seem less like a scary, irate Other and more like a tired male. A very large, very attractive, very furry male, who looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in about a decade.

“You smell like sugar,” he added abruptly.

“I—what?”

“Sugar. Vanilla.” His nostrils flared slightly. “Baked goods.”

“I made brownies last night.” Baking them had been both a way to relieve her stress about the move and a promise to herself that this time things would be different. “Are you… smelling me?”

The tips of his ears flushed pink beneath the grey fur.

“I have sensitive noses,” he said stiffly. “I wasn’t intentional. You just—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “Never mind.”

She let it drop, determined to try and save the situation. The last thing she wanted was an angry neighbor.

“Look,” she said, “can we start over? Without the bunny food?”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Start over how?”

“Hi.” She smiled and stuck out her hand again. “I’m Sara Cartwright. I just moved in next door, and I promise not to scatter anymore rabbit food in my garden.”

He stared at her hand for a long moment before he finally took it. His palm was warm and callused and large enough to completely engulf hers. The fur on the back of his hand was incredibly soft, tickling against her skin.

“Ben Holloway,” he said. The words came out like he was being forced to speak them at gunpoint. “Welcome to Fairhaven Falls. Stay off my lawn.”

He released her hand abruptly and turned away, stalking back to his house through a gate in the fence. The gate had been integrated so seamlessly with the rest of the fence that she hadn’t even seen it before.

A grumpy bastard, Flora had said. With a good heart.

Flora had certainly been right about the first part. She might have been right about the second part as well, but Sara suspected that the walls around Ben’s heart were as tall and impenetrable as the walls around his garden.

“Bunny food,” she muttered, still cringing with embarrassment. “I offered a rabbit Other bunny food.”

At least I made an impression.

Back inside her cottage, she poured herself more of Flora’s mysterious starlight wine and sank onto her couch. She needed to finish unpacking, find a grocery store, and prepare for class on Monday.

But right now, she was going to drink strange wine, stare at the ceiling of her new home, and try very hard not to think about the way Ben’s hand had felt wrapped around hers. Warm fur and rough calluses and a strength that made something deep inside her sit up and take notice.

Don’t even think about it, she told herself. I came here to build a life, not to get involved with a grumpy bunny who told me to stay off his lawn.

She spent the rest of the day turning her small house into a home.

By evening, her clothes were in the closet, her books were on the shelves, and her collection of colorful pillows and throws was artfully arranged on the couch and chairs.

Too tired to cook, she had Flora’s bread and jam for dinner, and by nine o’clock, she was fast asleep in her new bed, dreaming of broad shoulders and soft fur and bright blue eyes that looked right through her.