Being(s) In Love 03 - A Beginner’s Guide to Wooing Your Mate (7 page)

“O
H
,
SWEET
destiny, what have you brought me?” Zeki pushed his nose against the coffee shop’s pastry display as though he’d never seen cookies before. Bars of different kinds and brownies and croissants were also available, but the row of fat pandas was too pretty to be ignored. If they were the same as the sugar cookie from yesterday, then Zeki was sold. “Two pandas please, and a job if it’s still available.”

He straightened up in time to catch Mr. Elliot’s startled twitch. He couldn’t have been surprised to have a job applicant; he had a Help Wanted sign in his window. The tourist season was coming up. The coffee shop was going to start getting packed in the afternoons, and, naturally, on fire truck washing days as well.

“You want to work here?” Mr. Elliot got out two cookies and gestured questioningly at a paper bag, instead of reaching for a plate. Zeki nodded, although the moment the bag was in his hand he shook out part of one cookie and bit the head off. Impulse control wasn’t usually an issue for Zeki; in fact, he had cultivated patience for the sake of his training. He had even learned to appreciate delayed gratification over the years. But that crescent moon cookie had lingered in his mind the day before, one of the few rewarding moments of a day spent feeling weird about being back in town and receiving glares from about half the citizenry.

Well, it felt like half the citizenry. Zeki might have been sensitive after encountering the pixy from high school in the drugstore. The pixy was, or had been, Theo Greenleaf’s best friend, and the only one who ever called him “Teddy baby,” outside of Theo’s sister, not that Zeki had constantly eavesdropped on Theo’s conversations or anything. Zeki was simply observant, and in high school, Theo had been what he’d wanted to observe.

Zeki might have had some fantasies about calling Theo that nickname too, fantasies he had forgotten about until confronted by a pissed-off pixy when he’d been trying to get some toothpaste.

“Money is good.” Zeki explained his job-seeking with a wave after he’d chewed his sugar cookie. “I know I have a degree and an interest in magic, but I also know this job is seasonal, and I only plan on being here a few months. I need something to do, and if it helps, I was a barista during my sophomore year, and I remember how to work the machine.”

“Yes, but….” Mr. Elliot seemed puzzled. He hadn’t even asked Zeki to pay yet. He was possibly trying to refer to the fact that Zeki had managed to become persona non grata in Wolf’s Paw in less than a day. Zeki wasn’t denying that. It was a mystery how he’d done it. But that was one of Zeki’s many faults; he loved a mystery. During his restless, sleepless night, he’d started to wonder why the town was so accepting of his father and not him. And since he was leaving anyway, he might as well stay and annoy everyone who didn’t like him. He might even figure out why.

“If I’m going to drive away your clients, don’t worry about it.” Zeki pulled out some cash and left it on the counter. After a pause, he added some more. “Okay, one more cookie, please. For later.”

There was nothing wrong with an indulgence or two. That was the secret to Zeki’s discipline. Too much denial led to failure. On that thought, Zeki took another perfect, selfish bite of his cookie while holding up the bag for cookie number three. He briefly closed his eyes. The cookie was as good as the one the day before, maybe even better because it was fresher, crunchy and then soft. The icing was light, almost crisp, never too thick or overpowering. No one who tasted this cookie would stop at one.

He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud, crumbs spilling out of his mouth, until Mr. Elliot gave him a strange smile. “You’re in luck. Those were unexpected, but I have more arriving right this second. In fact….” He paused and swung his gaze over to the arched doorway leading to the small kitchen and, presumably, an office or storeroom for the shop.

Zeki followed his gaze, wondering what would have distracted him, and then dryly swallowed as he noticed they weren’t alone. He put a hand over his mouth and hoped against hope that he hadn’t been talking with his mouth full in front of Theo Greenleaf, who was standing tall and frozen and beautiful under the arch.

Theo stared, and Zeki stared back without blinking. He thought it was his imagination that the world around them seemed to quiet. It could have seemed still because his every nerve was suddenly alight.

The sensation wasn’t painful. It was like feeling the power building in a spell, like plunging his hands into an icy stream and feeling alive instead of numb. He lowered his hand when he remembered he was hiding half his face and then wondered what to say that wasn’t a confession that he’d once written “Zeki Greenleaf” on his paper book cover in the back of chemistry class and Jason Hendricks had seen it and taunted him about it for months.

He forced that bit of humiliation out of his mind. Zeki wasn’t that kid anymore. He’d talked to gorgeous men before, he could do it again. Granted, most of them weren’t the person he’d crushed on from puberty onward, but he could do it. He could stare at Theo Greenleaf’s cheekbones and full mouth and gentle, gentle brown eyes and every inch of him on display in his sleeveless white T-shirt and dark blue jeans and still keep his cool.

Zeki licked a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth, and Theo made a small, startled noise before finally tearing his gaze from Zeki’s face. Zeki took the opportunity to study him. Theo was twisting a piece of paper in his hands, what looked like an invoice. Because the sugar cookie Zeki had been practically climaxing over was probably one of Theo’s.

Zeki tried a smile and hoped Theo would take his reaction to his baking as a compliment.

“As I was saying,” Mr. Elliot broke in, dry and careful, “I unexpectedly received a large delivery. I’m glad you like the cookies so much.”

Theo gave a start and glanced quickly down to the bag clutched in Zeki’s hand before he lifted his head to sniff the air. His eyes went immediately to Zeki’s mouth and then away. With his head down, his hair fell over his shoulder and hid part of his face. He’d grown his hair longer since school. Zeki wanted to run his hands through it more than he’d wanted anything else in years.

He took another bite of cookie, and Theo lifted his head to watch him.

“You smell like sweet things even to my nose,” Zeki remarked, and then choked in disbelief at how awful that had sounded. “I meant to say, I can tell you’ve been hard at work, baking.” Zeki coughed until he could speak again, resolving to ignore that and start over. “Hey,” he tried again. He wanted to seem cool yet interested, not desperate.

Part of his brain tried to remind him that a crush in high school was all about idealized feelings and he might feel differently the moment Theo opened his mouth. It also tried to warn him that Theo was supposed to be broken, or brokenhearted, and he should be careful. Zeki told that part of his brain to shut up; he had been waiting forever for Theo Greenleaf to speak to him.

Theo’s startled gaze met his before he glanced around the café. Despite how it felt, the two of them weren’t alone. The café had customers. Zeki couldn’t bring himself to care about them, but Theo seemed to care very much. He looked back at Zeki, his eyes wild before he took a breath. “Hey?” he said in return, almost a question. His voice was softer, fainter, than Zeki remembered. Zeki couldn’t tell if that was his faulty memory or the sadness now clinging to Theo like a shadow.

Zeki’s sparkling nerves suddenly felt less bright, but he kept up his smile. “Sorry.” Silly of him to forget that even though he’d obsessed over Theo, Theo barely knew who he was. “We went to high school together. You probably don’t remember.” He stopped to consider if he should mention what he used to look like and caught a flash of ferocious gold in Theo’s eyes. It reflected the light, glowing, and Zeki exhaled shakily in startled arousal. He’d never seen even a hint of Theo as a wolf before.

Theo bumped into the wall, as if he’d retreated a step, then tossed his head. He blinked several times and the glow left his eyes. Then he closed his mouth and inhaled, the sound barely audible, as if Zeki were being sniffed more thoroughly. Zeki had no idea what to make of that or if Theo had noticed the rapid beat of his heart and realized how excited Zeki really was.

“You’re Theo, right?” Zeki heard himself playing it far, far too cool for someone whose heart was trying to force its way out of his chest, and could only assume he’d accidentally hexed himself to have no game. He was practically stumbling over his own tongue. “Theo Greenleaf,” he added, in a much more confident tone, making himself out to be a liar who’d known Theo’s name the whole time. He switched the bag of cookies over and then held out his hand. “I’m Zeki Janowitz, in case you don’t remember. Or maybe you just remember me as the human with the crazy hair.” Zeki hoped Theo took his hand, because otherwise this was going to get even more awkward. “Zeki is fine, though, if you like. The name is a handful.” That’s what he often said when meeting new people. He didn’t actually think his name was that bad, but it was different, and people usually wanted to talk about it.

Beings generally did not. They had different attitudes about names and almost no interest in human national boundaries.

Theo continued to stare at him, a slight wrinkle between his eyes before he bumped against the wall again, this time pushing himself closer to Zeki. “I remember your name,” he announced seriously, with a rumble beneath his quiet voice. Then he swept forward abruptly and took Zeki’s hand.

He didn’t speak, but Zeki felt another rumble travel through the large hand curled around his, up his wrist, along his arm, echoing through his chest. It was a growl, a real growl, deep and animal and not in the least bit threatening. Zeki shivered and kept hold of him as he met Theo’s eyes. The growl tapered off, lightening at the end in something like surprise. Zeki missed it when it was gone. He’d never forgotten what Theo was, but he’d never experienced it either.

Other weres in town, tourists usually, lost control of themselves in a fit of temper or good mood, with flashes of light reflected in their eyes or sudden growths of claws or fur, but Zeki had never seen it up close. He had no idea what it meant and regretted the pique that had made him neglect werewolves in his studying. Magic as humans used it was his area of interest, but he’d deliberately avoided learning more about weres, even as he’d looked into dragons and fairies and water dwelling beings. Now he wanted to know what had brought Theo Greenleaf’s inner spirit to the surface and why Theo seemed so surprised about it.

Theo was warm to the touch. Zeki hated to let him go. For a second he thought Theo didn’t want to release him either. Pure delusion, probably, but it took his mind off the tingling in his hand and how Theo Greenleaf was staring at him like he thought Zeki was about to perform a trick. Zeki couldn’t help running his thumb over the pads of his fingers to feel the strange, shocked sensation again. Theo watched him, then made a stifled sound, almost a word, when he saw the back of Zeki’s hand.

Tattoos seemed to fascinate weres, something about the permanence of them in human skin. Weres could scar, of course, but the scars healed so fast they were usually little more than the faintest of lines in otherwise flawless skin.

“They go farther up.” Zeki tilted his head to make it an offer to show off his tattoos and anything else Theo might want to see. He grinned to keep it playful, but Theo frowned and stared at him in a way that was unexpectedly distressed. “They aren’t magic, in and of themselves.” Zeki tacked on the explanation in case Theo was having werewolf anxiety about witchcraft. “Well, to be honest, they could be, the way anything can become a tool in the right situation. In fact I got them for focus. They’re like… notes. Or a wand, a deck of cards. Every mage focuses their magic through an object, or familiar, of their choosing. I have a more multidisciplinary approach. It required something different.”

He finished by waving a hand over his body. It was an invitation to be looked over, and Theo’s eyes dropped on cue. Then he made that wounded sound again and started to breathe harder. He didn’t say anything. Zeki wrinkled his forehead, trying to figure out what that meant, and then shot a look at Mr. Elliot in consternation. Mr. Elliot was pretending not to watch them while he wiped down the counter.

Zeki began to see what the weres yesterday had been talking about. He’d thought for a second that Theo had been looking at his mouth, that he hadn’t been the only one affected when they’d touched. But now he couldn’t tell if Theo was annoyed or bored or uninterested.

This was not exactly how Zeki had imagined their first real conversation would go, either in his high school day dreams or in his fantasies from last night. At least a rejection would have been clear.

He cast about for a new topic and remembered the bag in his hand. He stepped forward without meaning to. “Hey, are these panda cookies yours? They’re really good.”

Theo jerked his head up. Looking at him from so close was dizzying. Zeki’s thirteen-year-old self was jumping with nerves and arousal. Zeki’s adult self was flushed and probably too close for comfort, even by werewolf standards. He forced himself to stop leaning in toward Theo and tried not to stare. This was what Theo had grown up to be, this confusing, almost shy man. Zeki wondered if he could get him to smile the way that woman firefighter had.

“I’m not just saying that,” Zeki assured him, possibly talking too much. This was going to haunt him tomorrow, but he couldn’t seem to care at the moment. “I’m on a limited budget, and I bought three, and I had one yesterday. My dad’s a chef, and he’s worked with great talents, and I grew up tasting some amazing things. And these, don’t be offended, but these are almost magical. Which is how my dad cooks. He never believes me and insists it’s purely training and talent, and it is. Training and talent are a part of everything done well, but there’s magic too. Anyone can reach for it, they only need a focus. Like these.” Zeki put a hand up to again show his tattoos. “It’s magic. Not every time he cooks, but sometimes, when he’s open and he’s around his chosen medium, which in his case is food.”