Chapter 10

Levi

"I've been making coffee for fifty years now, son. And I never needed one of these… things to do it. Ask anyone in town: my coffee has always been fine."

The old man carded a hand through his white hair, shaking his head. The desperation was written all over his face, his eyes slowly filling with tears.

"When my coffee machine broke last week, my granddaughter, Allie, said I needed one of these espresso machines, the ones real coffee shops in the city used to keep up with times. That girl made me spend a fortune on this shiny barista thing, but it just doesn't work!"

His chest was heaving, wrinkly forehead wrinkling even more, hands shaking. I wasn't sure if he was mad or desperate or a mix between both. What I did know was that no one should sell a professional portafilter machine to a guy in his eighties who'd spent his life selling regular filter coffee.

"Do you want me to show you the ropes?" I carefully asked, just like I'd asked what was wrong with his espresso machine when I'd seen the big No coffee today sign on the door.

"What do you know about those monsters?" The old guy, Herbert, said. The bell over the door chimed and two women in their forties entered, happily chatting and laughing.

The change in Herbert was remarkable. His face smoothed out, worry lines fading back to a normal level as he made his way to the sink, dutifully washing and drying his hands before addressing his customers.

A smile tugged on my lips, as I saw him interacting with his customers, the way he chatted them up, laughed with them, asked how their kids were doing, all while casually packing up their order without losing eye contact even once.

He was a pro at work—and it was obvious he loved his job.

And damn, I hadn't tasted any of his creations yet, but the smell alone made my mouth water. Just breathing in the sugar probably made me gain ten pounds if I stayed any longer. Which I would, no doubt about it.

"Soo… no coffee yet?" One of the women asked.

Herbert huffed. "Damn thing was created by the devil to torment me."

Both women chuckled. "You'll figure it out, Herb. Can't… what's his name help? C… D…?"

"Cam?" Herb asked.

"Yes. He's already helping with the baking, right?"

Herb nodded. "Yeah. He's a good fella. Hard worker. Dedicated to learning everything the right way. I wasn't sure about hiring him in the beginning, and even less sure about eventually selling the shop, but… none of my grandchildren are interested in taking over. They're busy living their city lives, and I respect that."

Listening to them chat, I peeked past Herb, trying to get a better look at the coffee machine. I'd been working as a barista for three years now, so I knew a thing or two about how to handle the professional machines, but I also knew they tended to be tricky, and some definitely had a mind of their own.

After his customers had left, Herb focused his attention back on me. "So, you're saying you know how to operate the devil's spawn?"

Snorting, I nodded. "Pretty sure I do, yes."

Without further ado, Herb walked into the back, only to return with a deep red apron in hand a moment later. "Okay, son. Show me what you've got. My granddaughter has been nagging me to update my coffee selection for years. According to her, people only put up with the simple coffee because of my baked goods, and I could make more money by offering the same kinda fancy shit Starbucks offers. I've even got a couple of those syrup-things in the back, but never got around to putting them out and coming up with a menu. Hell, I wouldn't have known what to do about it. People buy their coffee black, with milk or sugar. That's it. Only thing I did was have oat milk on hand."

"That's a great start," I reassured Herb, taking the apron off of him to tie it around my waist. "But I have to agree with your granddaughter; you could probably make more money by offering those fancy-pants choices."

I just didn't think his granddaughter had chosen the right path to go about introducing modern coffee to her grandfather.

Holy shit, I was sweating all over!

Wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, I grabbed the counter with the other one, willing the room to stop spinning. Fuck, it'd only been two hours, merely a quarter of a regular shift I used to work back in Vancouver, yet I felt like I'd run a marathon.

"Are you okay, son?" Herb asked, placing a steadying hand on my arm. "You don't look too good, if you don't mind me saying that."

"Nah," I said, though it was hard getting the word in between breaths. "Been sick, not back to a hundred percent."

Shaking his head, the old guy led me over to one of the small tables. "Sit down, you fool. You should've told me earlier. Here I am, putting you to work without even asking. I'll get you something to eat to get your blood sugar levels back up. And a coffee." Wrinkling his nose, he shook his head. "If I get that damn thing to work."

I laughed, forcing a smile to my lips.

"I can make my own coffee."

Maybe.

Probably.

In a couple of minutes.

"Maybe just get me a glass of water first?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Herb nodding, and a short while later, he was back, a plate laden with pastries in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

"Eat whatever you like. I'll pack the rest up for later, son."

"That's not—"

"Necessary? Hell yeah, it is. Do you know how many coffees we've sold in the two hours since you manned the machine? Hate to admit my Allie was right, but even small-town folks from around here seem to like their coffee fancy nowadays."

With that, he left me sitting at the table and walked back behind the counter to deal with customers.

The afternoon rush was in full swing, with the coffee shop—or was it more of a bakery?—filled to the brim, the line almost reaching the door.

Taking a deep breath, I let the familiar atmosphere wash over me. The faint scent of coffee, vanilla, caramel, and chocolate, mixed with all the delicious treats Herbert provided. People chatting, phones chiming, feet shuffling, the register dinging every minute.

It was busy, hectic even, yet my pulse calmed down the more I listened to the noise around me.

Sipping my water, I curiously eyed my plate, and my stomach grumbled loudly. Everything looked so fucking good and I didn't have a clue what to try first. The childish part of me wanted to just take one bite out of everything, just to have tried it all, but the more mature and, fortunately, bigger part of my brain knew that was the wrong thing to do.

So, I finally chose a Nanaimo bar and took a big bite out of it. As the different flavours hit my tongue, I had to suppress a groan. Nanaimo bars tasted amazing no matter what, but this one was… damn. Definitely better than the ones my mom made.

Taking another bite had my eyes rolling back at the creamy, crunchy and velvety texture that practically melted in my mouth.

"It looks like you're thoroughly enjoying that pastry," a voice said right next to me, making me flinch.

I opened my eyes, blinking a couple of times to focus, then turned my head towards the voice.

A guy about my age was nodding shyly at the rest of the bar in my hand. "What is that?"

"A Nanaimo bar," I explained, then frowned. "You're not from here, are you?"

The guy's eyes flickered through the room, hands balling into fists, but I still saw them shaking.

Fuck.

Looked like I'd struck a nerve.

"I…" he started, eyes shifting towards the crowd, then back to me. "No," he finally whispered, as if he was letting me in on some kind of huge secret. "No, I'm… new to the area."

He had to be in order to not know one of British Columbia's most famous treats.

"Well, you should definitely try one, then."

Biting his lip again, the guy nodded. "Maybe," he said, eyes darting through the room again, as if searching for something. It gave me the opportunity to study him a little closer.

He was maybe a couple years older, but definitely not older than mid-twenties, and he was even thinner than I was, a little taller, and dressed in all black, from head to toe, which made his pale skin and silvery-white hair stand out like a sore thumb.

He's missing a coat , I realized upon closer inspection of him. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans, but no coat. And his jeans looked like they were hanging on by a thread—literally speaking. The knees weren't just torn; they were shredded to pieces, but not in a purposeful, artful way. It rather looked like he'd taken a fall or two. Even his hoodie had a few small holes in them, and his hair… yeah, it'd definitely seen better days. Whatever haircut he'd had was long overgrown, and his hair desperately needed a wash.

Was he homeless?

Did Balwood have a homeless population?

I almost couldn't imagine it had. Certainly, the pack would've done something about that, right?

But maybe… if he was new in town, no one knew.

And if he wasn't a shifter… the pack probably didn't care, did they?

My mind was already starting to spin again, the faint throbbing sensation returning to my temples, so I made a mental note to ask Rhett… no, Mave!... about it later.

Why was my first impulse to ask Rhett?

Sighing, I shifted my attention back to the guy still standing next to me. He was looking at me funny, like he was expecting me to say something specific, or maybe like he wanted to ask me something specific, so even though I had no idea what he could possibly want me to ask, I nodded towards the chair opposite of me.

Maybe he was part of the pack after all.

I'd had quite a few people coming up to me to ask me how I was feeling while I'd been exploring the town.

"Do you want to sit?"

He startled so badly, he literally jumped into the air.

"I'm sorry," I said, giving him an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, I…" He took a deep breath, hiding his face in his hands for a moment. "I'm sorry. I… I'd like to sit down for a while."

He didn't really sound like it, voice all shaky and hesitant, his whole body tense like a bow, as if he was ready to bolt any second, but he still sat down opposite of me, drawing his shoulders up to his ears.

"I'm Levi," I introduced myself, winking at him. "And I'm new to the area, too."

The guy gave a shaky nod. "I'm Nix," he whispered, his eyes flitting through the room as if he was scared someone might hear.

For a while, we stayed quiet, neither one of us knowing what to say. Or maybe he didn't dare? I couldn't speak for him, but I could certainly say that I had no idea what to say to him.

For one, I didn't know if he was pack or a regular human—apparently, that made a difference. Which was weird. Two weeks ago, I'd just have struck up a conversation with him. Now I was questioning what I could talk to him about.

Fuck.

This whole paranormal world-slash-shifter thing was complicated.

Like… with Herb, it was easy. I knew he was human, so I'd known what topics to stick to. Okay, granted, the fact he needed help to operate the coffee machine was definitely helping to find safe topics.

But with Nix?

He appeared so nervous I was afraid he'd just take off if I said the wrong thing, so…

"Uhm… do you want to eat something?" I finally asked.

You couldn't go wrong with food, right?

He blinked at me, his blue, almost turquoise eyes widening comically. "I… uhm…"

Was he trying to find a polite way to tell me he didn't have money?

I carefully studied him closer, noticing a twig caught up in his shoulder length hair, a few bits of leaves sticking to his hoodie, cementing my suspicion he might be homeless, maybe even roughing it in the woods.

Which wasn't possible, was it? Rhett had scented me from miles away, and the pack was patrolling the pack lands every single day. They'd have easily found Nix if he was camping outside, and even though he might not be Rhett's mate, I couldn't even begin to think that Rhett would just leave him out there.

"Look, I've got this whole plate of delicious treats, and that's definitely more than I can eat, so feel free to help yourself."

Nix pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes searching mine. "You sure?"

I nodded. "A hundred percent." Patting my stomach, I winked at him. "I know I look like I need the food for myself, but let me tell you, I get the most incredible meals at the Balwood Inn. The Innkeeper is an amazing cook."

Nix hesitated for another second or two, then carefully extended his hand, giving me another look before finally grabbing a donut. He hurriedly took a bite out of the pastry, and his eyes damn near rolled back into his head as he chewed and swallowed.

"This is so good," he mumbled between bites.

"I bet it is," I said with a smile, drinking another gulp of water. My body almost felt normal again, at least if it wasn't for the heavy exhaustion settling in my bones. I yawned, willing my hands to stay still and not rub my eyes. "If you're new in town, are you staying in a hotel? Or do you have an apartment?"

Nix looked up from the already halfway gone donut, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I'm…," he began, furrowing his brows, "I'm in temporary housing," he finally said, whatever it was supposed to mean. "I'm not sure if I want to stay long term, you know? What about you? You said you're staying in the Inn? Are you planning on staying here?"

"Maybe?" I said, scrunching up my nose. I shouldn't have started asking questions I couldn't answer myself. And I definitely didn't have an answer about whether I was going to stay here, because in the end, that train of thought only led me back to Rhett.

If Rhett and I started dating or became a couple or whatever, I'd have to move here, right? I mean… he had the pack, and the pack was like a ginormous family. His whole life was here, a life deeply rooted in this community, in his pack. I couldn't imagine he'd ever leave this life behind, not even for me.

And I… Honestly? I didn't know if I'd even want him to leave.

He was a fucking wolf.

At least half of him was.

A wolf in Vancouver? What sounded like a great movie title sounded like an incredibly bad idea as a real-life scenario.

Fuck.

I shivered, feeling like someone had just emptied a bucket of ice water over my head. If anything happened between me and Rhett, it meant I'd have to leave my own life behind. I'd have to leave Vancouver, my parents, my friends…

But how many friends did I really have?

After all, I'd been missing for two weeks, yet no one had noticed enough to file a missing person's report.

"Are you okay?" Nix cocked his head, eyes narrowing again. "I think I lost you for a minute."

"Mhmm," I said, taking a deep breath, before shoving all those unpleasantly annoying thoughts to the back of my mind, "I guess my life is pretty much up in the air right now."

Nix's features softened, his shoulders sagging a little. "Same," he said, barking out a laugh. "Hard same."

I gently pushed the plate with pastries closer to him. It really didn't look like we'd eaten anything at all. "Grab another one, and let's talk about… easier topics, okay?"

Letting out a gust of air, Nix nodded, giving me a careful smile. "Easier topics sound good. Soo… What's your favourite colour?"

I couldn't help but snort. "What are we? Five?"

Nix shrugged. "A person's favourite colour can tell you a lot about them."

Whatever.

I took a moment to think about his question. I liked a lot of colours, but the first thing that came to my mind was Rhett's wolf in front of the lush nature. Dark, but still vivid greens, deep browns, hints of the blue sky in the background…

"Green," I finally said, a wistful smile on my face. "Definitely forest green."

Which was ludicrous. I'd almost died out there. The forest had damn near managed to kill me, but in the end… it'd brought me Rhett.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes.

What the fuck was I thinking? Was there something in the water? In the pastries? Was Herb's secret to selling addictive pastries that he put actual drugs in there?

"What were you thinking about just now?" Nix asked, and I opened my eyes again, finding him staring at me with open curiosity on his face, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

"Nothing," I said, though it really didn't feel like nothing. Actually, it felt monumental. Like a revelation. I just wasn't sure if I was ready to acknowledge it. "So, what's your favourite colour?"

Nix giggled. "Glitter."

I laughed, too, then grabbed another pastry. This time, I had no idea what kind it was, but it smelled like cinnamon and maple syrup, so it couldn't be bad.

"That's not a colour."

"Fine." Nix huffed out a laugh. "Purple."

I could see that. I bet he could rock a punk-goth-chic outfit with a lot of silver, black, and purple.

Yawning again, I rolled my shoulders.

How long had I been out and about already? Probably just a couple of hours, though it felt like I'd been running around town for days. My feet certainly felt like I'd walked a marathon with lead weights attached to my ankles.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "I've been sick for the past… week and a half, and I think I accidentally overextended myself. I'll probably head back to the Inn soon and face plant into bed."

Nix nodded, giving me a tender smile. The next moment, his eyes shifted to the door. I couldn't see what he was seeing, but from his reaction, it couldn't be good. As the bells above the door chimed, alarming Herb that yet another customer had entered, Nix's shoulders tensed, the smile falling off his face. Turning away from the door, he slightly shook his head, letting his hair fall right into his face like a curtain he was hiding behind.

"Oh, hey, Levi. I see you found your way here alright," Paul's voice boomed through the bakery.

I raised my hand in greeting. "Sure did." I was about to wave him over when my eyes landed on Nix and his shaking, tense form.

Oh fuck.

It was Paul he was hiding from. Or, probably not Paul, rather the Mounties' uniform he was wearing, seeing as Paul didn't appear to recognize Nix at all.

Shifting in my chair, my mind started racing. I needed to keep Paul from coming over without raising suspicion. No problem at all. Nope, easy as pie, considering Paul was a shifter and could probably smell that I was nervous or hear my heart rate picking up or whatever.

Abruptly, I stood, giving Nix an extra wide smile. "Thank you for sharing your table," I said, winking at him when he looked up at me with huge eyes. "I hope I'll see you around."

Then I quickly walked over to Paul, making sure to keep myself between him and Nix so he couldn't get a good look at my companion. Nosy as shifters seemed to be, I didn't want him all up in Nix's business just because he'd shared a meal with me.

Was it stupid to hide a man I'd just met from the police?

Probably. If Nix was homeless, he needed help. It was fucking cold already and freezing at night.

And if Nix was on the run?

My steps faltered for a moment.

No. My gut feeling didn't give me felon-vibes. And I trusted my gut. After all, the last time I'd trusted it, it'd made me believe the wolf I'd met in the wilderness would help me out.

The wolf.

Rhett.

Aaaand… my mind was back to thinking about my mate.