Talon
The bell above the front door jingles aggressively, and I ignore it like usual. I’m elbow deep in dough and don’t have time to run out front to help Warwick. He’ll call for me if he needs me. But usually he doesn’t need me.
I can’t stop thinking about Wren. Seeing him naked. His muscles on display. He’s not as big as the demons around, but he’s not thin and lanky like his brother Lark.
Wren doesn’t look like what people imagine a Fae to look like.
No, he’s spectacularly formed. Like Zac Efron in Baywatch.
I rarely watch movies. I can’t remember the last one I watched, but I remember Baywatch and how I could count every one of his abs.
That’s what it’s like with Wren. And his wings.
I don’t know if Wren knows I witnessed the glow, but it was glorious.
His hair might be white, but his wings are a riot of blues and purples and pink.
Lark’s are nice, but Wren’s are show stopping.
If he worked at Flutter and Fangs, I’m sure he’d pull in a crowd.
Not that I’ve been to the strip joint. Club? I’m not sure what it is anymore.
“Knock, knock,” Wick says as he knocks on the doorjamb separating me from the front of the bakery.
Powdered sugar dusts his apron. There’s a bit smudged across his blue cheeks.
Something’s wrapped around his left horn.
His tail wiggles before settling on the floor.
His feathered wings are pulled in close to his body.
Thank goodness he made all the doorways massive.
“Yeah?” Of course it comes out more gruff than I intend.
“Wren’s out here asking for you. Do ya have—”
“No. I’ll get behind.” I shake my head and dust my hands with more flour.
“I’m sure the owner won’t mind you taking a bit of time for whatever it is.” Wick winks and waggles his brows. I’m sure he thinks he’s clever with that reasoning since he’s the owner.
“Sorry, I got here late and I’m getting the dinner rolls in later than I like.”
Wick sighs and shakes his head. “If you insist. But Wren and the guys’ll be here for a bit.”
“They always are. Every morning.” And every morning I avoid the front end, like just seeing Wren will burn out my retinas.
“You gotta loosen up, Tal.” Wick squeezes my shoulder and I ignore him. He leaves me be and goes back to the front when the door jingles again.
He knows I don’t like being bothered. I’m a beast when it comes to running his kitchen. As long as there aren’t distractions like a sexy as sin Fae waltzing into the backroom with a grin a mile wide. Or wearing clothes too big, but still perfect somehow.
I blink a few times, hoping Wren isn’t actually waltzing into the kitchen, but no such luck. I do a double take at the sharp difference in his appearance since a few hours ago.
“Like the new hair?” Wren spins with his arms out. His hair’s still white, but it’s trimmed to probably his shoulders with the length pulled into a ponytail to reveal an undercut. He stops spinning and meets my eyes. “You’re speechless.”
“I’m a man of few words.” I go back to my dough. Can’t get distracted by the jewel green eyes. Or the plump lips. Or—
“I’ve noticed.” He looks over my shoulder. “Whatcha making?”
“Rolls.”
He snorts and walks around the kitchen. “This place is nice. Lots of chrome. I’ve never been back here before.”
“And you should go. You’re distracting me.”
“Oh, am I?”
I stop my task and look him over. “Get out Wren. I don’t need you to use your Fae wiles on me. I’m already behind as it is.”
His face drops. “I just wanted to return your shirt. Thank you again for getting me safely to Lark’s.” He waves to the counter by the door.
I grunt in acknowledgement. With a sigh, he leaves me again. The kitchen feels heavier now his spark is gone. How had he made it feel light and airy with just his presence?
There’s a creak in the one noisy floorboard by the door and I brace myself for more flirting.
“You’re such an ass sometimes,” Wick says. “It was just a bit of flirting. He’s harmless.”
“I know.” On all fronts.
“Then what’s the problem?” Wick leans against the doorjamb and watches the front at the same time.
“I don’t come to work to be flirted with. I come to bake.” I pinch off rolls and line them on the baking tray in front of me.
“I get that and honestly, I wouldn’t want to be flirted with all the time, either.
Ethan’s my one and only. And—” Wick stops talking and looks at me, really looks at me.
“Oh. Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” He peeks around the corner again before stepping fully into the kitchen.
“You have a crush. That’s it, isn’t it?”
My eyes go wide and I shake my head. “Not even close. Griffins don’t get crushes.”
Wick snorts a laugh. “Bullshit. You have a crush, and you have no idea how to talk to him.”
I rearrange the rolls to my liking. “You’re distracting me. I can’t get the rolls to cooperate.”
“Sure. Sure. Maybe I’ll put you on register duty to make you face your crush every morning.”
My heart pounds so damn hard. “You wouldn’t.” I swallow back the anxiety.
“I’m a demon.”
“Please no. A few times a month I’m fine, but don’t make me do it every day.” My hands shake and I try to hide them behind my back.
“Shit. Sorry, no.” His tail whips around before wrapping around his waist. “I was joking. I won’t make you do the front end more than necessary.”
His look of concern sours my mood, and I turn back to the worktable. “I need to get back to the rolls,” my voice comes out like a croak.
Wick nods and squeezes my shoulder before leaving me to my rolls.
“Sorry,” I whisper to the empty room.