Chapter 7
Hadley
Yep. War.
That’s the only word for it.
Because the moment he calls me Cookie, something deep inside me—something large and furry and very interested—rolls over and purrs like it just found the world’s biggest jar of honey.
Absolutely not.
I plant the scoop down on the counter like a judge banging a gavel.
“You do realize,” I say slowly, “that you just walked into my shop, claimed me like a parking spot, and are now flirting with a woman who makes dessert for a living.”
Rob doesn’t even blink.
“Yes.”
Reg loses it behind him.
“Oh man,” he wheezes. “He’s already doomed.”
Gretchen smacks his arm.
“Reg, stop encouraging him.”
“I’m not encouraging him,” Reg says. “I’m enjoying the show.”
Tommy leans on the counter like he’s watching live television.
I point the scoop at him.
“You’re supposed to be working.”
“I am,” he says solemnly. “I’m observing the mating ritual.”
I gasp.
“There is no mating ritual!”
There is so, my she-Bear, traitor that she is, rumbles happily.
Rob’s mouth twitches.
“Do you want ice cream or not?” I snap.
“Yeah, Cookie, I want ice cream.”
“What flavor?”
He shrugs one shoulder.
“Whatever you recommend.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Oh, I recommend something.”
Tommy whispers, “Uh oh.”
I spin and march over to the display case.
Let’s see…
Mint chip.
Salted caramel.
Chocolate fudge.
And then I find it.
Perfect.
I grab the tub labeled Firecracker Chili Chocolate.
Very popular with customers who enjoy hidden consequences.
I scoop a generous mound into a waffle cone, sprinkle it liberally with some of my special cayenne sprinkles, and I slam it down in front of him.
“There.”
Rob picks it up.
Sniffs it.
“Chocolate?”
“Chocolate,” I say sweetly.
“And there’s something else,” he whispers, sniffing again.
Reg leans in and whispers loudly, “That one’s spicy.”
Rob glances at him.
Then at me.
“I can handle spicy.”
Then he takes a lick with his stupid long tongue.
Three seconds pass.
Four.
Five.
His eyes widen.
Then water.
Just a little.
But I see it.
Victory is mine.
Only he goes in for another lick, and another.
“Oh, wow,” he growls and grins. “This ice cream sure has a kick, Cookie. Compliments to the chef.”
I frown.
Tommy doubles over laughing.
“Boss, this guy is brutal!”
I lean on the counter, tapping my short nails against the glass.
“Well, I’ll have to work on surprising you next time.”
“Glad you know there’ll be a next time,” Rob replies, and that stupid, sexy growl of his rumbles deep in his throat.
His Tiger is staring at me through those deep sea blue eyes. And the man just smiles at me.
Actually smiles.
A real one.
Slow.
Sexy.
Dangerous.
“I was speaking metaphorically.”
“And we both know better,” he says and takes another lick, moaning as he does.
“Mmm, well played, Cookie. Well played.”
He takes a bite of the cone next because apparently he’s stubborn enough to finish the whole damn thing in five licks or less.
No one has ever managed that.
Reg claps.
“Oh yeah. He’s a goner, Gretch. Just look at him!”
“Shut up,” Rob mutters.
I wipe the counter, pretending not to watch him finish the entire cone like it’s a challenge issued by destiny itself.
When he’s done, he sets the empty cone holder down carefully.
Then he leans forward.
Close.
Too close.
I can smell pine and sun and something dark and delicious on him.
Caramel and dark chocolate—my favorite.
“You know,” he says quietly, “you’re the first woman who’s ever tried to kill me with ice cream.”
“I wasn’t trying very hard.”
He grins.
“That’s okay.”
His voice drops a little.
“I like a challenge.”
My heart does a very stupid little flip.
I grab another cone just so my hands have something to do.
“Well, you’re going to need a little reality with that attitude,” I say briskly. “Because, like I said before—”
“I know,” he interrupts.
“You don’t want a mate.”
“That’s right,” I agree, ignoring the sad whine of my Sow.
“And I don’t want a mate, either.”
His eyes gleam.
“But your Bear does. And so does my Tiger.”
My scoop freezes mid-air.
Tommy gasps like someone just dropped gossip gold.
Reg looks delighted.
I recover instantly.
“My Bear,” I say primly, “has terrible judgment.”
Rob chuckles.
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Because,” he says calmly, “it means she picked me.”
My stomach flips again.
This man is insufferable.
Also, dangerously charming.
I point the scoop at him again.
“Listen carefully, Tiger.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I am focusing on my business.”
“I fully support that, Cookie.”
“I am not dating anyone.”
“Perfect.”
“And I am definitely not mating some pushy Shifter who walks into my shop and calls me mine while simultaneously announcing that he doesn’t want me.”
Rob slows his roll.
“I think we have a misunderstanding. But I get what you’re saying.”
I relax.
Then he adds, “So I’ll just have to convince you.”
My Bear sighs dreamily.
I glare at him.
“You are impossible.”
He shrugs.
“Probably.”
Then he gestures toward the display case.
“But I’m also coming back tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Research.”
“For what?”
He smiles again.
“My plus size plan.”
Reg groans.
“Oh my Gods, he did not actually say that.”
I blink.
“Your what?”
Rob taps the counter once.
“My big plan to win the woman of my dreams.”
My brain completely stops working.
Tommy whispers, “This is the best job I’ve ever had.”
And I realize two things at the exact same time.
One—this Tiger might actually be crazy.
And two—my Bear might actually like that idea.