Chapter 8
The bag of candy slung over Ben’s shoulder barely weighed anything but it felt heavier than any piece of equipment he’d ever carried. He stood just inside the entrance to the school gym, half-hidden by a rack of sports equipment, and wondered what the hell he was doing.
Why wasn’t he safely behind his tavern’s kitchen doors, chopping vegetables and growling at suppliers and existing in the comfortable solitude he’d built for himself?
Why was he holding a bag full of individually wrapped chocolates, about to walk into a room full of five-year-old’s, just because a curvy kindergarten teacher with green eyes and a smile like sunrise had somehow gotten under his skin?
It’s not too late to change my mind. I only said I’d think about it.
But he had thought about it. He’d thought about nothing else.
He’d thought about her face when he snapped at her in the tavern.
About the way she’d felt in his arms—soft and warm and fitting against him like she was made to be there.
About the way she’d buried her face in his neck and told him he smelled good.
He’d thought about the way she’d looked at him yesterday in her classroom, like he was something worth looking at. Like she actually saw him—not the grumpy tavern owner, not the former rock star, not the Other who made people cross the street. Just Ben.
Fuck.
He’d spent the last two days trying to talk himself out of coming. He’d almost called Sara a dozen times to make an excuse, but every time he’d remembered the look on Maisie’s face.
And the look on Sara’s.
So here he was. The Easter Bunny. Or at least, the Easter Bunny’s grumpy, socially awkward cousin.
“You look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”
He turned to find Adrian leaning against the wall next to him, all lazy grace and infuriating amusement.
“What are you doing here?”
“Peter invited me.” Adrian’s smile widened. “He was very insistent that I see the famous candy-giving bunny in his natural habitat. And since I am a loving and devoted uncle, I came. I told him I knew the bunny personally, but he didn’t believe me. Frankly, I wasn’t sure you would show up.”
“Sara invited me.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And the small one asked.”
“You mean Maisie. Peter said she hasn’t stopped talking about ‘the big fluffy bunny’ since she met you. I’m pretty sure she’s planning to adopt you.”
The idea was both terrifying and oddly sweet.
Adrian’s smile faded as he studied Ben’s face. “I’m still surprised you’re actually doing it.”
“I am known to occasionally fulfill social obligations.”
“No, you’re not,” Adrian countered. “You’re known for actively avoiding them. Especially anything that puts you in a room full of… well, people.”
Before he could formulate a suitably gruff response, the door to the school opened and what appeared to be a horde of children erupted into the gym in a riot of color and noise. Sara followed them, talking to a small goblin girl, but Maisie saw him first.
“BUNNY!”
He froze. The other children froze. Sara stopped mid-sentence, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ of surprise that did absolutely nothing to calm the hammering in his chest.
Then the chaos erupted.
“It’s a big bunny!”
“Miss Sara, there’s a bunny!”
“Can I pet him? Can I? Can I?”
A wave of tiny bodies launched themselves at him. He staggered back, his fight-or-flight instincts screaming run, but before he could move, he was surrounded by children, all reaching for him with determined little hands.
“Hey—” he started.
“Children!” Sara’s voice cut through the pandemonium. “What did we talk about? We don’t touch people without asking permission.”
The tiny horde retreated approximately three inches, vibrating with barely contained excitement.
“You came,” Maisie whispered, staring up at him now with absolute devotion, like he was some kind of super hero.
“Mr. Ben brought candy for everyone,” Sara said, her eyes meeting his over the sea of small heads. There was laughter in them, and warmth, and something that looked almost like gratitude. “But only if we use our good manners and ask nicely.”
“Please can we have candy Mr. Bunny?” the children chorused, their voices an overlapping cacophony of desperation.
“It’s Mr. Ben,” he corrected gruffly.
“Please can we have candy Mr. Ben Bunny?” Maisie amended.
Sara made a sound that was definitely a laugh disguised as a cough, and he glared at her. She smiled back, radiant and unrepentant, and his stupid heart did a flip in his chest.
A small brown missile suddenly launched itself at Adrian’s legs.
“Uncle Adrian!” A half-shifted Peter clung to his uncle’s jeans, tail wagging furiously. “You came too! You said you were too busy!”
“I changed my mind.” Adrian ruffled the boy’s hair. “I couldn’t miss the chance to see Mr. Ben get mobbed by kindergarteners.”
He glared at the werewolf but Adrian only looked amused.
“All right, children,” Sara said calmly. “Mr. Ben will give each of you one piece of candy. What do we say?”
“Please and thank you!”
“Excellent.”
The children’s movements became a chaotic shuffle rather than a full-blown stampede, which was a small mercy. They surrounded him, a sea of bright colors and wide, curious eyes, their voices a babble of questions and exclamations.
“You’re so fluffy!”
“Are you really a bunny?”
“Do you have a fluffy tail?”
“Can I touch your fur?”
He froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the scent of chalk dust and juice boxes and the cacophony of high-pitched voices.
The sheer, unfiltered energy of it all made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end.
But then Sara was there, her presence a calming anchor in the storm of small bodies.
She placed her hand lightly on his arm and left it there as he distributed the candy.
“Now why don’t you all say thank you to Mr. Ben for coming to our party?” she prompted when he’d finished.
A chorus of “Thank you, Mr. Ben!” echoed through the playground, surprisingly well-synchronized.
“You’re welcome,” he managed, feeling an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest. He watched as Sara herded them towards a series of brightly colored games set up in the center of the gym—a bean bag toss, a three-legged race, and some sort of complicated obstacle course involving hula hoops.
He stood awkwardly to the side, feeling large and out of place amongst the joyful chaos, until he felt a tug on his jeans.
He looked down to see Maisie giving him a serious look.
“Are you going to play?” she asked, her little brow furrowed with concern.
“I don’t play games,” he said gruffly.
“Why not?”
He had no good answer for that, but Sara came to his rescue again. “Mr. Ben is helping with the candy, Maisie. That’s his very important job.”
“But I want him to play,” Maisie insisted, her lower lip beginning to tremble.
Sara’s eyes met his over the little elf girl’s head. There was a silent plea in them, a warmth that bypassed all his defenses and settled somewhere deep inside.
Before he could stop himself, he heard himself say, “What’s the game?”
Maisie’s face lit up. “The three-legged race! I need a partner! Billy is too big, and Peter says I’m too slow.”
He stared at her, then at Sara, who was trying—and failing—to hide a smile. He wanted to point out that he was considerably bigger than Billy.
“Fine,” he heard himself say instead. “But just this one.”
Maisie giggled as he awkwardly knelt, letting her use a length of colorful ribbon to tie one of his legs to hers. Her small hand was sticky, her grip surprisingly strong.
“On your marks… get set… GO!” Sara called out, blowing a small pink whistle.
The race was a disaster. A glorious, hilarious, chaotic disaster.
Maisie’s stride was approximately one-third the length of his, and he spent most of the race trying not to trip over her or the other teams, who were all tangled together in a heap of flailing limbs and raucous laughter.
He saw Adrian deliberately stumble, sending Peter and Petunia into a fit of giggles, and for a moment, he felt a strange, unfamiliar pull in his chest. As if he belonged there.
They didn’t win. They didn’t even come close to winning. But as Maisie untied their legs, her face was radiant with joy.
“We were the slowest!” she announced with pride.
“The most dignified,” he corrected, managing a straight face.
She considered this, her little elfin features scrunched in thought. “We were the fluffiest,” she decided, patting his leg with her tiny hand before darting off to see who had won.
He returned to his position by the rack of equipment, a strange feeling settling over him.
Not happiness exactly, but a lightness he hadn’t felt in years.
Maybe not since before the band, before the endless tours and the hollowness that came with sold-out shows and adoring crowds who only loved an image.
He looked over and found Sara watching him.
She gave him a small, private smile, a smile that was just for him, and the lightness in his chest intensified, warming him from the inside out.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, lost in her smile, but a collective gasp from the children broke the spell.
He turned to see what had captured their attention.
Varek, Posy’s massive orc mate, came through the doors carrying a huge cooler. Posy followed him holding an enormous, beautifully decorated cake. Flora bounced along in their wake, wearing a bright pink feather boa that matched her pink sequined track suit.
“We heard there was a party!” Flora announced, her voice carrying through the gym. “And we brought snacks.”
The children cheered, swarming the newcomers with excited greetings, and Sara followed, giving the three of them a grateful smile. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Nonsense,” Flora declared, patting her white curls complacently. “A party is a party, and no party in Fairhaven Falls is complete without a cake. Especially when there’s a handsome Other making an appearance.”
Flora’s gaze landed on him, her black eyes twinkling with a satisfaction that was almost infuriating. He knew, with absolute certainty, that she had engineered this entire event.
She’s meddling, he thought, but the familiar irritation was muted by the happiness on Sara’s face.
He stayed on the periphery, leaning against the wall, content to watch.
He watched Sara serve cake to her students, a smear of white frosting on her cheek that she didn’t seem to notice.
He watched Petunia try to steal a second piece and get caught by Varek, who simply ruffled her green hair and let her have it.
He watched Adrian, who usually radiated a restless energy, sitting patiently on the floor while a group of children tried to braid his red hair.
“Hey.”
Sara was suddenly in front of him, holding out a paper plate with a generous slice of chocolate cake with fluffy white frosting. His heart skipped a beat.
“You’re lurking,” she said, smiling up at him.
“I’m observing.”
“Is there a difference?” She offered him the plate, and he realized she’d forgotten what he’d told her. “Cake. It’s the rule.”
I shouldn’t take it.
He took it anyway and as he did their fingers brushed, sending a jolt of electricity through him, sharp and sweet.
She smiled at him as if it were perfectly normal to accidentally electrocute someone, then hurried away to break up an escalating argument between two of the children. He couldn’t stop watching her.
She’d let her hair down today, chestnut waves spilling over her shoulders, and she was wearing a dress the color of spring leaves that swayed gently around her luscious ass and made her eyes glow.
Stop staring.
He couldn’t stop staring.
“Mr. Ben Bunny?” A tug at his hand. He looked down to find Maisie had returned for what appeared to be a second approach.
“I don’t have any more candy.”
“I know.” She smiled up at him, gap-toothed and devastating. “But you look sad. Do you need a hug?”
The question hit him somewhere between the ribs, in a soft place he’d thought long calcified. He opened his mouth to say no, he didn’t need hugs, he was a grown adult who had been perfectly fine without physical affection for six fucking years—
“Yes,” he heard himself say as he bent down.
Maisie’s small arms wrapped around his neck with surprising strength. She squeezed once, fiercely, then released him and scampered away like nothing had happened.
He stood very still, something warm and terrifying unfurling in his chest. Get out. Get out now before you do something stupid.
He made it to the doors before Sara’s voice stopped him.
“Ben. Wait.”
He turned and found her right behind him.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For doing this. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“It was fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m an excellent liar. Just not to you.”
Her smile widened, something mischievous sparking in those green eyes. She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her—vanilla and sugar and warm human female. His nose twitched. His whole body twitched.
“Good bunny,” she murmured.
The words hit him like a lightning bolt.
He moved before he could stop himself, closing the distance between them until her back was nearly against the doorframe, until his mouth was inches from her ear. He heard her breath catch, and saw the rapid flutter of her pulse.
“Sweetheart,” he said, low and rough and not quite steady, “you have no idea.”
Then he turned and walked away, because if he stayed one second longer, he was going to do something that would traumatize fourteen kindergarteners for life.