Out of the Shadows (5 page)

The bell on the front door jingled, drawing her thoughts to
her new customer. Her breath caught in surprise.

“Hello, Lark,” Grant said. A small smile on his face. He
came around to her side of the counter and leaned against the steel and glass
case.

“I heard you were coming back to town,” she said after a
long moment. Lark turned her attention back to the dough. Yes, with his dark
brown hair, chocolate eyes, and well muscled body he was still attractive. That
road had already been traveled. It hadn’t worked out, no use doing it again.

“So, my mom told you? How are you?” Grant asked. His thumb
reached out and swiped something off her shoulder.

“Good,” she said, pulling away from him. His touch had done
nothing for her. She turned and went back to kneading the dough, hoping he
would catch the hint.

“New York is really different. It’s nice to be home.”

“Mmmhmm,” she mumbled. She could see him watching her from
the corner of her eye.

“I’ve actually got an internship set up here in town so I
don’t have to go back until January, and just for a few months to finish up my
essays and a few classes,” Grant explained. He leaned forward palms pressing on
the metal table.

“I bet your mom’s happy.”

“Of course, she never was keen on me leaving,” he chuckled. He
opened his mouth to say more when the bell chimed, alerting them to someone
else entering.

Lark let out a relieved breath, thankful for the
interruption. She brushed her hands off on her apron as she turned. Mouth
dropping in surprise, she tucked a loose curl behind her ear, and clamped her
mouth shut.

“Hi,” she greeted, mustering up a smile.

“I was wondering if you had a moment. I need to place a
special order,” Devon said, hands jammed into his pockets, eyes lingering on
Grant before fixating on her.

“Actually, I close at eight. It’s seven-forty-five, and I am
in the middle of something at the moment.”

His eyes drifted to the clock then back to her.

She hesitated, while she could make an exception, and
normally would, Devon wasn’t exactly being polite about asking either. “I open
tomorrow at seven, if you’d like to come back,” she replied her voice overly
sweet. “But since you’re here you can take all the leftovers back to the ranch.
Sarah’s already home for the night.”

A tick formed in his jaw, his hazel eyes glowering at her. She
was being a bitch, but he had pissed her off the other night.

“Did you want anything before I box all this up?” Lark asked
tearing her gaze from Devon and looking at Grant.

“No thanks, I’ll wait,” Grant replied staring at Devon.

Eager to end the night, Lark walked to the shelf where the
extra take out containers were. Standing on tip toes, she struggled to grab a
few boxes. Her finger tips grazing across the cardboard.

Lark jumped as Grant placed a hand
on her lower back.

“Here let me get those,” he
murmured. His hand shot up above her, belly pressed against her back as he
pulled the boxes down for her.

Great! Now things are getting
awkward.

Flustered, she inhaled a deep breath.
Focus.
“Thanks,”
she forced a smile, ducking under his arm as she maneuvered to the case.

Anger seethed below the surface, what was Grant doing? She
bit her lip as he came to stand behind her again, his body a hairs-width inch from
her own. Annoyed, she started to toss pastries into the box.

“Here is everything.” She plopped
the rectangular containers down by the register.

Devon cleared his throat and walked toward her, lifting the
boxes off the counter. “When is a good time to stop by tomorrow? I
need
a cake for this weekend.” His voice was flat but those hazel irises bore into
her, an unknown emotion swirling beneath the surface.

Grant leaned against the case eyes flicking between the two
of them, scrutinizing their exchange.

“Um,” she croaked, warmth flooding her cheeks, finding
herself at a loss for words. “Anytime tomorrow afternoon would be fine. It
usually slows down around two, and picks up again around five,” she said,
relieved that her voice remained even. Between the two of them she was getting
agitated.

“I’ll see you then,” he nodded. She swallowed and waited
with bated breath for him to leave. Devon’s gaze drifted to Grant’s; a frown
marring the werewolf’s face as he took in her ex. Whom was still encroaching on
her personal space. Devon swallowed, a barely audible growl escaping his lips.
Is
he jealous?
Without a word he turned on his heel and marched out of the
shop.

Lark took a moment to compose
herself, wiping down the counter where some crumbs had spilled. She then walked
to the door, switched the lock in place, and flipped the sign from open to
close. What a day, and it wasn’t over yet. With a sigh she turned back to
Grant.

“You just gave him that stuff for free? Who is he anyway?”
Grant grumbled as he pushed off the case and walked toward her.

“It's better than throwing it away,” she shrugged. What she
did with her leftovers wasn’t really his business, but still she felt the need
to justify herself. “He’s Rick’s nephew, Rick has done so much for Sarah and me
the past few years, it wouldn’t be right to throw it away when they will eat
them.”

Grant chuckled darkly, pursing his lips. “Well, it certainly
doesn’t make sense financially, especially when you don’t seem to get along
with the guy who’s picking it up. It’s not like you to act like that, Lark,” he
gripped her shoulders, concern flooding his features. “Did something happen
between you two?”

“It’s not always about the businesses bottom line. Was there
a reason for your visit?” Lark asked annoyed. She wasn’t going to answer his
last question, honestly she didn’t know the answer — there was something
between her and Devon, a connection.

“Do I need a reason to stop in and visit you? It’s been a
while,” Grant said. His hand lifted from her shoulder, like he wanted to reach
out and touch her face. After a long hesitant moment he pushed away from her.

Lark closed her eyes before retreating to the dough she’d
started earlier. If there was a purpose for his visit she would rather he state
it, than beat around the bush. She didn’t feel like doing whatever this was
right now.

“I’ve missed you, Lark,” he broke the silence.

“Grant-”

“Just hear me out,” he interrupted, his hands flew up in the
air defensively. “It’s been a few years, we never really ended things. I
haven’t moved on and heard you hadn’t either. Maybe we should see if there is
still something here. Come out with me, Lark. Let me take you on a date? Or at
least out just to talk and catch up.”

She rolled her lip between her teeth. The dough pulsed
between her fingers as she squeezed harder. “I need to think about it,” she
looked up at him and saw the disappointment on his face. “It’s just I’m really
busy right now.”

Grant hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sure, just
give me a call whenever. I’ll see you around.”

“Good night,” she said softly, eyes trained on the sticky
glob in front of her. Lark could feel his attention focused on her. After a few
long moments, Grant’s footsteps clicked toward the door. The door squeaked as
he unlocked it and banged shut.

Why was everything getting complicated all at once?

Lark looked at the clock with a
sigh; it was just after three-thirty. What did she care if Devon came or not? The
man was a controlling pig who wouldn’t let his sister get a job. Not to
mention, he didn’t exactly give off the friendliest vibe. Sure, there was an
attraction, but it would only ever be that.

“You seem preoccupied today,” Sarah said as she came back
from wiping down the windows.

“It’s just been a slow afternoon,” Lark sighed. She didn’t
want to admit it, but she was disappointed. She should be working instead of
sitting around twiddling her thumbs for a guy who probably wouldn’t show up. The
chocolate chip cookies weren’t going to bake themselves.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off? Go out and do
something. I can handle things here,” Sarah offered.

“Don’t you have homework?”

“No, the slave drivers went easy on me today,” Sarah laughed.
“Get out of here.”

Lark rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have plans with Preston?”

“Lark,” Sarah snapped, looking at her pointedly. “All you
ever do is work.”

“I enjoy this, and I do have a social life. Grant asked me
out,” she said defensively. Was it so hard to believe that she was perfectly
happy baking? In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have mentioned Grant.

“And what did you say to him?” Sarah asked, arms crossed,
blinking rapidly at her.

“That I would think about it,” Lark sighed. “Why are you
suddenly so interested in my love life?”

“Well, for one, it’s nonexistent. Two, you’ve done so much
for me, Lark. I can’t let you keep putting your life on hold,” she said combing
a hand through her hair.

“But where is this stemming from?”

Sure they’d talked about it casually before, but why the
push all of a sudden? Had someone said something? Sarah cared about her, but
this was the second time she’d brought it up. It baffled Lark.

Sarah slumped against the counter. “Promise you won’t get
mad?”

Lark frowned, nothing good ever
followed after those words. “Sarah?”

“Fine. Grant’s mom, when she came
in here the other night, she talked about Grant and how cute you two were
together. It just got me thinking. Lark, you don’t do anything ever,” she said
softly, coming to give her a hug. “You used to go out and do things, date, and have
fun. You don’t do that anymore. I feel like you put your life on hold to help
raise me and open The Cookie Jar. I don’t want you to wake up one day and
realize you’ve missed opportunities.”

Lark leaned into her sister
blinking back tears. Sarah really didn’t need her anymore. At the same time,
the spiel was too mature for Sarah. In fact, it sounded more like Grant’s mom,
Rachel’s, doing. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if Rachel were trying to
meddle.

The sound of the shop door chime
drew them apart. She cleared her throat and dabbed quickly at her eyes.

“Hi,” she choked out when she saw
who entered.

Her eyes shifted to the glass case
giving her face a quick once over. Relief flooded her, there was no blotched
makeup. Only her crazy hair that wouldn’t stay in a ponytail to save her life,
but that was nothing new.

“I hope now is convenient for you,
I got held up at the ranch,” Devon explained. He looked between the two of them.
His hands jammed into the pockets of his dark wash jeans.

“No, now is fine, if you want to
come back to my office,” Lark said, quickly wiping the flour from her apron.
She tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear, and motioned for him to follow
her.

“You know he’s not bad on the
eyes,” Sarah murmured, as Lark walked by.

Lark shot Sarah a stern look before
leading the way to her office. Of course he was easy on the eyes, anyone could
see that. It was his attitude that needed improvement.

Lark sat in the leather chair
behind her desk, glancing up at him as he stood awkwardly in the doorway. She
watched as his eyes scanned the bright yellow walls of the office before
stopping on her.

She indicated the metal padded
chair in front of her wood desk, “Please, have a seat. We can discuss your
order.”

She leaned back in her chair in an
attempt to get comfortable. With Devon sitting across from her she didn’t think
that was possible. His close proximity and woodsy scent set every nerve in her
body on edge.

Devon sat down in the metal chair,
one leg thrown over the other, ankle on his knee. “I would like a cake, for uh,
Emily’s wedding this weekend.”

“Oh!”
Emily was getting married?
This weekend?
She hadn’t mentioned it the other night. Granted they didn’t
really know each other, but shouldn’t that be something shared? “I didn’t
realize they were getting married.”

“It’s kind of spur of the moment.”

Lark averted her eyes, and forced
her thoughts to the matter at hand. “I see. Um, for Saturday or Sunday?”

“Sunday,” he answered. Devon’s eyes
remained fixed on her, making her insides quiver with lust.

“Sure, wow, that happened fast.” The
words flew out before she could help herself. She clenched her lip between her
teeth to keep from rambling further.

Devon stared at her for a long
moment. Lost in his gaze, she admired his hazel irises. They were so expressive.
What is he thinking about?
He cleared his throat; heat crept up her
cheeks. Embarrassed, she realized he was waiting for her to say something.

“How many people are going to be at
the reception?” She asked.
Focus!
This is not how professionals act
.
She chided herself. After a brief moment to compose herself, she forced a
smile, and pulled out her book of wedding cakes. “Will Emily be joining us at
some point?”

“No, uh, this is something I’m
doing for her. I guess enough to feed everyone at the ranch,” Devon said. He
tapped his fingers on the desk. A frown marred his face as she opened the book
and turned to the first page of pictures.

“Here are some of the smaller
cakes, and then we’ll need to decide on a flavor,” she said pointing.

“Can’t we just do chocolate and
vanilla?” He asked, his eyes staring blankly at the page.

“Sure, do you want fruit filled or
almond flavored vanilla?” She asked, pulling an order form and pen from her
desk drawer.

He sat back in the chair and
scrubbed a hand over his face. “What would you do?”

“Excuse me?” She asked, confused by
his question.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat
again. “I’m trying to help Emily out. I admit I know nothing about this. She
has enough to do with studying for the ceremony and finding a dress. What would
you recommend?”

Studying for the ceremony?
She tucked
that tidbit away to talk about later. Lark took a moment to study him and
realized that he really was out of his element. It wouldn’t be so horrible to
help out for Emily’s sake.

“Well, I would go for a simple two
tiered cake. We can do two different flavors, traditional chocolate and vanilla.
Are there any particular colors she’s using?”

“It’s not really a wedding per se,”
Devon said, after a long moment of eyeballing the book.

“Okay,” she drawled out. What
exactly did that mean? His evasiveness only fueled her curiosity.

“It’s more a cultural thing, so there won’t be any need to
get fancy, but Em’s favorite color is green,” Devon said quietly, shuffling in
his chair.

“I could do pale green frosting,” she said, scribbling
across the top of the white order form. “I didn’t realize you guys did that
differently.”

“It’s a complicated situation.”

He didn’t seem to be willing to elaborate any further.
Perhaps if she baited him he would explain more. “Regardless, I bet Emily is
excited. I know she said that was one of the reasons you guys left. Your father
didn’t approve of her relationship.”

“She’s excited,” he said, jaw tight, eyes piercing her. “I’m
not sure what Emily told you, Lark. But for your safety, as well as Emily’s, I
think it is best if you stay out of our business, and away from the entire
pack.”

Lark pursed her lips annoyed. So now he thought he could
tell her what to do too? “Well, seeing as Rick has been like a second father to
me, and my sister is dating Preston, I don’t see that happening. Maybe your
bulling works on your sister, but I’m not afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should be,” he snapped, eyebrow quirked as he
leaned forward, hands thumping against the desk.

“Are you threatening me?” She asked, swallowing as she
glared back at him. If he thought he could intimidate her he had another thing
coming. Her hand gripped the pen tightly.

Devon watched her for a long moment, his eyes intently
burning into hers. “No, I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, relaxing back in his
chair.

He looked offended as he rubbed at
his sandy hair. “I don’t know what Emily told you, or Rick for that matter but
as a species, we’re dangerous. You shouldn’t even know about us.”

“Actually, it’s
your
fault
that I do,” Lark shot back. It had been Devon’s accident that her father had
been called in to help with.

Devon’s nostrils flared at her
accusation. “Stay away from Emily. She’s led a sheltered life and trusts
too easily. The last thing she needs is for someone who knows nothing about our
situation misguiding her. Now, is there anything else you need for the cake?”

A surge of anger coursed through
her veins.
How dare he dismiss her like that? How dare he come and ask for a
cake for Emily and tell her to stay out of his sisters business?

“Rick, Gene, and Preston are like
family to me. Hell, everyone on that ranch is family. Sarah and Preston are in
love with each other. You have another thing coming if you think we’re just
going to walk away from them. You don’t turn your backs on your family when a
crisis occurs. And I think Emily is more than capable of living her own life
without your…your oppression.”

Devon nodded, his mossy green-blue
irises pierced her, and she gulped nervously under his scrutinizing gaze. “Your
only interactions with werewolves have been through Rick. I assure you, not all
of us are like him. We live in a far more dangerous world than you can possibly
comprehend. Emily is young and naïve and has no idea how the world really works.
She has spent her entire life sheltered, and has no grasp of what our situation
is. You don’t need to plant ideas into her head,” he reiterated with a snarl.

Lark inhaled a deep breath in an
attempt not to lose her cool. She was perfectly capable of taking care of
herself. She did not need some chauvinistic pig telling her what to do. Furthermore,
the way he talked about Emily was downright offensive. “You know I was under
the impression that Emily left her old home for a new life. It seems to me she
just exchanged who was going to dictate it,” she said, her nostrils flaring as
her voice rose a few octaves.

He opened his mouth to say
something but she cut him off.

Smacking her hands down on the
desk, she stood up. “Anything can be dangerous - anything can happen to a
person at any time. My parents are proof of that. They were killed on New
Year’s Eve coming home from a party. A drunk driver ran a red light, and hit
them head on. I refuse to live a sheltered life, because of things that
might
happen. So don’t you dare come into my bakery and presume to tell me what I can
and cannot do.”

By the time she’d finished her
rant, the sting of flames engulfed her face. She couldn’t remember the last
time she’d been this worked up. Lark stood up to go to her file cabinet in an
attempt to distract herself from her anger, and Devon’s irate glare. She’d
clearly struck a nerve, well, so had he.

“I admire that you’re a strong
individual, Lark, but you truly have no idea what you’re in for. Stay away from
Emily,” he said in a low throaty growl. He stood quickly, the chair screeching
against the tile floor as it moved backwards from the abruptness. “I’ll pick up
the cake Saturday before close.”

“Fine,” she seethed, turning back
to scowl at him.

Devon shot daggers at her, balling
his hands into tight fists, as he stalked off. She sucked in a shaky breath. That
had been one intense meeting. Well, at least now she knew for sure that even
though he was sexy as sin, his macho attitude and controlling ways were a huge
turn off. The man was an ass.

Despite everything, she couldn’t
deny that her body still found him attractive. She couldn’t decide if she
wanted to pummel him or slam him against the wall and have her wicked way with
him.
God, Sarah was right, she needed to get laid. Maybe she should call
Grant.

She sucked in a deep breath and got
out her cell to call him before she lost her nerve. They’d had something once.
It wouldn’t hurt to see if something was still there. They could meet for
drinks Saturday night. The liquor would help calm her nerves.

***

Devon made his way back into the
house. How had getting a simple cake turned into such an ordeal? That meeting
had not gone as planned. What made it worse was Lark comparing him to Emmett. At
first he had wanted to berate her, tell her how wrong she was. But the more he
thought about it, the more he realized she was right.