Chapter Three
Zephyr
Not only had Cypress shown up wanting to take me on a date, he’d picked out a dress for me and booked the place.
A reservation he’d had to change after our rush at the shop.
I wanted to tell him we could just put it off, but he had gone to so much trouble that I did the criminal act of sending everyone home and locking up with most of the mess intact.
We’d all be back extra early in the morning to take care of it.
Cypress was the kind of husband women dreamed of and complained they didn’t have. He was considerate, let me be independent, and was never overbearing.
At times like this, I could sit back and enjoy the evening without having all the planning fall on me.
He was a dream husband.
And then, there was another part of him. My husband was a wolf shifter. He revealed it to me early on, wanting me to know everything before I made the choice to be with him.
We married.
And mated.
My neck bore his bite mark.
We sat in the back of the restaurant, just the way I liked it.
Dark. Quiet. In the shadows of everyone else chatting and taking pictures of their steak.
I didn’t hate social media, at the moment, since today, it had doubled our profits, but taking a picture of my steak wasn’t anything you would see me do.
Cypress had booked this restaurant in advance. The chef was supposed to come out and greet everyone since it was the first week of opening, but he couldn’t tonight. The waiter who brought us the wine also mentioned the chef was also the owner.
Impressive.
“Happy Trees anniversary.” Cypress raised his wineglass and clinked his glass with mine.
“Thank you.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder and inhaled deeply. Some human mates picked up a few shifter senses. I could scent my mate from a mile away, and he lived up to his name, all cypress and moss and rain steaming on the bark of a tree.
“Tell me about today. About the big apple-latte thing.”
“No…” I whined. “Absolutely no coffee talk on this date. I just want to be here with you and talk about things that don’t stress me out.”
My mate and husband’s chuckle shook us both. “So, how about this fall weather? I saw you wore a sweater today.”
More laughing. Goodness, this man. “Not the weather.”
The waiter approached and gave us the spiel about this restaurant priding itself on being as farm to table as possible.
“What do you suggest?” Cypress asked. “We’re celebrating tonight.”
I knew my husband. As a shifter, his metabolism was three times as fast as mine and, when we got home, no matter how much he ate here, he would reach for a pint of ice cream sometime in the night. He indulged because he turned into a wolf.
I envied him his metabolism and his wolf.
I’d once watched him put down an entire box of gourmet cookies and a gallon of whole milk and, the next morning, get up and salivate at some scrambled eggs.
They were bought for taste testing, of course.
I often went to places and tried out their things for inspiration or, in some cases, to know what not to do with my own baked goods for the coffeehouse.
Cypress had a huge steak with a small side salad, while I indulged in a cheesy vegetable lasagna.
We took the long way home, walking hand in hand and stopping at some places where we’d had previous dates, including the park where he’d proposed.
I loved my life, but this part, the one where I didn’t have to be the boss, was my favorite.
Being with Cypress was easy.
We went home and got into bed after changing into our nightwear. We had a routine.
Cypress was shirtless and very interested in the newest flavor of ice cream he’d found en route to the coffeehouse this afternoon. “Do you want to pick up that series we’ve been watching, or are you going to read?”
I sighed. “I’m pooped. Running a coffeehouse that went viral and being a girl boss is exhausting, turns out.”
“Maybe I can help.” Cypress moved to the edge of the bed and rubbed my feet, letting me drone on about my tasks for the next day. Telling him all the things I needed to do got them out of my head and helped with the stress and the constant running thoughts.
I was still mumbling something about peppermint syrup for the winter when he settled in bed behind me, becoming the big spoon to my little one. He stroked my hair and agreed about the syrup but also reminded me that fall had just begun.
Goddess, he was always so warm. The window was cracked a bit, but I was never cold. I was married to a heater of a man who howled when he was on all four paws.
One lucky female.
“I have the list. I’ll text it to you.” The other thing Cypress did was taking my late-night musings and organizing them for me.
Who needed a notes app when I had my mate.