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The first paper he picked up fell open to a picture of a much younger Gladys Cravets wearing a toga and a crown of leaves and accompanied by Jeremiah, the town witch doctor. Gladys was one of Flora’s closest friends, but she was also a witch with considerable healing ability and, from what he’d heard, despised Jeremiah. She certainly didn’t look like she despised him in the picture.
Amused, he carried the stack of papers over to his chair. He’d just found an article about the previous owners of his house when he was overcome by a wave of tiredness. Yawning, he put the paper aside and retired to bed. Tonight he had no trouble falling asleep, but his dreams were haunted by a curvy little female who always hovered just out of reach.
When he went downstairs late the next morning, the back door was wide open and there was a trail of half-eaten rolls and pastries leading from the kitchen through the door and out across the patio to the woods.
A long, heartfelt curse escaped his lips as he went to examine the back door. The lock wasn’t jammed or broken—the door was simply unlocked. How the hell was that possible?
He was sweeping up the crumbs when Cody arrived.
“Whoa, dude. Are you feeding the raccoons?”
His glare must have been answer enough because for once Cody shut up and simply went to get another broom.
Raccoons?Could they be the culprits? He knew they were smart little creatures with very clever hands, but clever enough to open a lock without damaging it, find their way to the kitchen, and open the pantry? It seemed highly unlikely, but he couldn’t come up with any other rational explanation. Whatever the cause, they had decimated his supplies.
“I’m going to call Grondar and see if he has anything available to sell us,” he told Cody and left the brownie to finish up.
The grumpy orc was one of Flora’s grandsons and the best baker in town. Unfortunately he specialized in sweets. He told Damian that he could replace the pastries, but not the rolls.
“Not my area.”
“I’d be willing to pay extra if you could make it your area, at least for today. I can’t get any replacements from the bakery in Asheville until tomorrow.”
“No. I have plans with my mate.”
Grondar hung up before he could continue the argument.Fuck.Was he going to have to resort to grocery store rolls? Perhaps Jack could come up with an alternative. But when the chef arrived, he only looked down his long, thin nose at him—a difficult feat considering he was a foot shorter than Damian—and refused.
“I am not a baker.”
He said it with as much disdain as if Damian had asked him to parade naked through the dining room. At least that would have suppressed everyone’s appetite.
“Nereus? Do you think you could come up with something?”
The sous chef gave him a doubtful look but nodded.
“I can try.”
“Excellent. I’m sure the results will be delicious.”
Nonetheless he made a quick trip to the grocery store to find the least objectionable alternative. It was just as well he did. He returned to find Nereus staring at a tray of soggy blobs with a more than usually mournful expression.
“They didn’t rise,” he sighed.
Obviously.Damian bit back his instinctive response. At least Nereus had tried.
“Maybe I can help.”
Her scent reached him at the same time as her voice. His body immediately responded, but he did his best to ignore it as they all turned to see Wendy standing in the doorway. She was wearing a wide-legged yellow jumpsuit covered with tiny white flowers that flowed flatteringly around her curves, and she looked as bright and cheerful as her nom de plume. Not to mention good enough to eat. His fangs threatened to descend again.
“Help?” he asked, sounding almost as dazed as he felt.
“Flora said you had a problem with your bread?”
“Raccoons,” Cody said chewing on a carrot. “Sneaky little bastards.”
“You think you can bake?” Jack sneered, but she didn’t flinch.
“Yes. What did you have planned for tonight? I could do quick rolls, or flatbread, or perhaps focaccia?”
