Page 60 of Lycans & Lattes

“Why didn’t you shift, Dougall?” I asked incredulously. “Barney Fife was a better cop than you.”

“He caught me by surprise,” Dougall replied sheepishly.

“I think it might be time for you to reevaluate your career goals, Dougall,” I muttered. “Who tied you up?”

He grimaced, his brow pinched as his eyes met mine. “You’re not going to like it.”

29

Willow

The trio of miscreants only allowed me five solid minutes of hiding in the shadows of Wyatt’s hoodie before Eloise declared that she was going to teach us how to bake her grandmother’s “cheer-up” chess pie recipe. With all the precision of a drill sergeant, she had us on our feet, dusted in flour, and whisking like our lives depended on it. Despite her overenthusiastic antics, I appreciated the distraction. I needed to be doing something other than sitting around the bakery in silence, acting like we were hunkered down for a paranormal tornado to blow through.

As I glanced down the line of baked goods, I could tell that neither Jordyn, Harlow, nor I would be quitting our day jobs anytime soon. Baking truly was an art form. I was once again gladdened that I was not in charge of any of the café food when my custard came out lumpy.

The phone on the countertop buzzed, and Eloise frowned down at her dough-covered hands.

There was no caller name, only a black heart emoji.

“Can you get that?” Eloise jutted her chin at the device. “Just put it on speaker.” I did as she commanded, and she greeted the mystery caller. “Hey, babe.”

I arched my brow at Harlow, a silent exchange happening as we both wondered who this “babe” was.

“Is that how you always answer your phone?” a cold, scolding voice asked. “Your playboy antics aren’t going to find you a viable partner, you know.”

Eloise’s face fell. “Mom. Hi.”

“Hello.” Sandra somehow managed to make two syllables sound so patronizing. “We’re all wondering when you’ll get here.”

“Here?”

“Eloise Elizabeth Sullivan, you better not have forgotten again,” Sandra said, getting increasingly annoyed. “I knew you weren’t coming to dinner, but you swore to bring over the dessert I ordered for Daniel’s retirement party.”

Eloise slapped a hand to her forehead.

“You said you’d bring it by earlier,” her mother reminded her, and Eloise cringed, scouring the shelves of already-made goods behind her.

“Yes, chocolate chip cookies,” she announced when her eyes landed on an unsold box from the morning.

“Retirement cookies?” her mother admonished. “You didn’t think a cake would be more appropriate?”

Eloise crossed to one of the wall fridges, pulled open the door, and pulled out a pie with a large mound of meringue plopped on top. “You know Pops prefers pie and cookies. It’s his retirement, after all.”

I snickered to myself as I watched Eloise put the pie in a box as if it had been planned.

“Can you send someone round to pick them up? I kind of have my hands full,” Eloise added.

“You’re not coming to your own grandfather’s retirement party?”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I⁠—”

Her mother let out a derisive huff. “Typical.”

“Yep, typical me,” Eloise said, not even trying to fight her. “Tell Pops congrats on getting old and that I’ll bake him the biggest sprinkle cake for his next birthday. Make all the pups jealous. He’ll love that.”

“Done,” her mother said, seemingly satisfied with that. “I’ll send someone over to grab the cookies and pie. And they better not be squished.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Eloise called in a breezier singsong than expected. “Love you.”