Chapter 11 Colette
Colette
The bakery is packed to the gills, as my father used to say. Kaya’s talking cat, Sios, perches atop a shelving unit that houses canisters of brown, white, and pink sugar.
“Welcome,” he says as we push our way through the door. He licks one orange paw and flicks his ears, “to the chaos.”
Archer is gaping up at Sios, so I take the lead.
“Sios, what is going on?” I ask the large maplecat.
“A sale on cinnamon scones, of course.” He wiggles his whiskers.
“Ah,” I reply like I get it even though I don’t.
Archer eyes the room like everyone is a threat. I take his hand and drag him to the counter, where Kaya blows a hair out of her face and asks us how she can help.
“I suppose we must try the scones that are turning this place upside down,” I say, giving Archer a look. He just nods.
Kaya smiles at us and rings us up on her brass register. The chime rings, and though I reach for the small pouch of coins at my belt, Archer extends his hand around me and gives Kaya the proper amount.
The conversation in the bakery quiets slightly, and all heads turn toward us.
Kaya scowls at her customers. “Anyone who can’t manage to mind their own business will be promptly asked to leave. No scones for gossips today.”
I blink and trade a look with Archer as the crowd absorbs Kaya’s tutor-like announcement and they go back to whatever they were up to before we entered.
“I’m sorry there’s no seating,” Kaya says.
Archer tips his head to her. “Thank you for…,” he waves a hand, “that.”
“Of course,” Kaya says. “You’re both welcome to take my kitchen stools and hide out back there.” She is studying Archer’s face and I know she can tell he is not in love with this crowd.
“That would be wonderful,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to peruse the kitchen of the famous Kaya!”
She laughs—such a lovely person—and I lead Archer through the door and into the flour-fogged kitchen.
Archer pulls a stool up to a shiny countertop and gestures for me to sit. I do, and he grabs a second one and joins me. He sniffs the scone and groans, closing his eyes. Warmth drizzles down my neck and gathers low in my belly. That was a very lovely groan.
I nibble my scone to keep from saying something wild.
Cinnamon and butter and sugar explode over my tongue and now I’m the one making all the sounds.
Archer lifts his treat like he’s toasting me and then takes a hearty bite.
We munch in silence for a few moments. The conversation in the bakery drifts through the door, but the heavy cabinetry, hanging aprons, and thick walls diffuse the noise.
In addition to the scone’s aroma, Archer’s own scent floats through the air.
Spicy and alluring. I inhale and take another bite.
“It’s the perfect texture,” I say, trying and failing to catch a large crumb falling from my lips.
Archer’s hand dashes toward me and he cups the crumb. He turns his palm down, depositing my mess into the bin below the table.
“Thanks.”
He nods and dives into a discussion about what will happen next in our short story.
He insists our main characters run into one of the lesser bad guys and their treatment of them sparks a dark memory in the male lead.
I counter with the suggestion of a near miss so the capture will have more impact when it happens closer to the last act.
Archer tells me I’m shying away from the meat.
I inform him that we must season the meat before serving, throwing his phrase back at him.
He claims that is exactly what he is trying to do. I go for two more scones.
This is officially the toughest writing project I have ever attempted. We will get it done, but I’m not sure we’ll finish on time.
Something taps at the kitchen’s back door. Archer sets his second scone on the countertop and goes to open the door. A letter zips into the room and hovers over his scone.
“Oh no,” we say in unison.
Because from the look he gives me, he also recognizes the two seals on the note.
Archer and Colette,
Quinn and I are meeting about some other business dealings, but we wanted to check in.
You’ll have a draft by the end of this week, right?
Please send it as soon as possible. We wrote to the Leafshire Cove mayor, and he said he wants you two to read excerpts for the Snowlight festival there.
It will be a fantastic promo. We’re sure you’ll agree.
And if you don’t, well, Archer, I don’t need to remind you what we spoke about earlier. Colette, I’m sure you want to help your new community by contributing to the festival.
Anyhoo, send that draft over when you have it! We are holding our breath!
Yours,
Quinn and Avalon
“They know exactly how pushy they are being,” I say, actually pretty annoyed.
“Definitely,” Archer says.
“Should we push back? Are you truly miserable? Are we completely unhinged for thinking we can write this before Snowlight?”
The vampire-goblin’s gaze drifts to the glowing coals of the oven in the front corner of the kitchen. Two maplekittens doze nearby, their tails tucked tightly under them.
“I’m not as miserable as I thought I would be,” he says quietly.
Ouch. “Okay. That’s fair. I’m pushing you into a genre you don’t enjoy and I’m getting more of a say than you because it’s my genre.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll try to compromise more, all right?” I don’t want to quit this. I like spending time with this handsome, complicated vampire. As intimidating as he looks, he has shown kindness, and he’s shy, really. I like all of that. I like it too much.
He meets my gaze. “I appreciate that, Colette.”
The way he says my name like it’s precious has butterflies dancing through my bloodstream. If we dated, would he bite me? Would I want him to? Yes, yes, I would.
We discuss the full story, doing a verbal outline. Archer’s dark ruby-red eyes shine as we bend and flow within our creative ideas.
“Organization is like a turn-on for you, isn’t it?”
He barks a laugh. “It is. The ability to make my house payment is a close second, so I’m very happy this is working better now.”
I hate that he is struggling for money. I’ve been there. We never had much growing up. I wonder sometimes if I would have been taller if I had eaten more than thin soups for the majority of my childhood.
We finish our treat, trade a few barbs about the color pink, and then leave with a wave to Kaya and Sios, who are cleaning up an empty table.
“I’ve never seen a cat slide a teacup off a table with good rather than evil intent,” Archer says.
I laugh. “Sios is a wonder. He got those cups right in the correct slots in Kaya’s cleaning cart.”
At the inn, Archer stops and gives me a polite bow. “Thanks for the wonderful time.”
“Surely you’ve changed your mind about tonight?” I ask, willing him to answer correctly.
“About the reading at the bookshop? No, I have not. Our project is too raw to be released to the public. We have to dwell on it when we finish the draft. It will need a hearty edit.”
“Hearty or heart-y?” I snicker at my own old man joke. “Romance jests…”
Archer just raises an eyebrow. “I don’t approve of the reading. I’m not the boss here. If anything, you are, so you do what you wish. But don’t expect me.”
Grrr. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Well, enjoy the rest of your day.” I want to know what he does in his off-hours.
“Thank you. You too.”
His gaze slides down my body, but then away to the noise of the market. He swallows. Blessed Runestones, I wish I could read his mind. But alas. He walks away quickly, his cloak rising in the cold breezing over the cobblestones. I can’t help but sigh. He’s just too good-looking.
The inn’s door swings open hard and slams against the frame. My heart jumps and I hold out my hands.
“What do you want me to do? Follow him?”
The inn gives a shake like a wet dog, and plaster puffs out of the cracks around the door frame.
I have no idea what that means, but the door remains ajar so I give up and head inside.
I think I’ll see if Tully and Kaya want to have dinner at the tavern tonight after the reading.
I need to blow off some of this steam. I need to distract myself from thinking of Archer in the way I currently am.
Those hands would feel so good running along my sides to cup my arse.
I shake my head and head to my office to pen a couple of notes.
Perhaps Archer will surprise me and show up to the reading. After all, he dropped all that questioning about humor and pain. I didn’t think he would because he seems to love digging into painful subjects so maybe anything is possible.