Emma didn’t sleep well. Joe and Ripley’s temporary apartment was tiny, and they didn’t even have a real couch. It was a love seat, too well worn buy a clan of teenage bears back in the day. The cushions were lumpy, and the upholstery was worn almost completely through in multiple places. Joe had apologized profusely for the lack of space and comfort, but Emma shrugged him off. The furniture had been the last thing on her mind, until an hour before her alarm was supposed to go off.

Now, as she lay there, it was all she could think about. Or, it was all she would let herself think about. If she let her thoughts wander even slightly, her mind replayed Joe’s fury, Ripley’s consolation…Jordan’s dismissal.

How had things exploded so suddenly around her? Had she missed the signs? It didn’t seem possible. It wouldn’t have been possible, until everything that had happened with Brett and the rabies virus. That had been where Emma made her mistake. She had shown her intentions too early. She had given Cheryl no choice but to act if she wanted to stay in control.

The fact that Cheryl had used Jordan to accomplish it made Emma’s stomach curl. Jordan Baker. He had the biggest heart in the universe, but a heart didn’t win wars. And then, he had said the one thing that set her back.

He wanted to be alpha.

How could she have so poorly misjudged him? Did he want to challenge for alpha to protect her? Or did he really want it for himself?

Jordan was always protecting people. Well, trying to. He didn’t always do it right.

But then, who was Emma to judge? She’d left their apartment under the guise of protecting him. In reality, she was taking the coward’s way out. She needed Cheryl to think she had won. Part of Emma wanted to leave it at that. Maybe letting her win wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

What would things be like if Emma just walked away?

Her thoughts strayed to Mason Covey. Tall. Well-kept five o’clock shadow and green eyes. Thick rimmed glasses. His voice. The way he laughed. How he made her giggle. Gods, it had felt good just being near him. Jordan used to make her laugh, before they were tangled up in Cheryl’s web.

Emma kicked off her blanket and sat up. If she laid there any longer, she was going to drive herself crazy. She needed to do something, and it might as well be baking. She knew she was good at that. Not to mention she had invited Mason over to try out a new cookie recipe.

She needed to come up with one of those, or she’d look like an idiot.

She probably shouldn’t have done that, inviting him over. Not with everything else going on. Thanks to Cheryl, people were already talking. If she made a habit of joining Mason in public, it would only fuel the fires and might make things harder for him. Even if he had only been there two weeks.

People see what they want to see.

Emma suddenly wished she had made a point to keep herself less integrated with the mundane population. It was going to be bad enough trying to explain to Cyn what had happened. Checking the clock, Emma pulled on her pants and slipped a tank over her head. It wasn’t even five in the morning yet. Cyn wouldn’t be showing up at the bakery for another half an hour to start the breads. If Emma left now, she could get the oven’s started and the first batch baking by the time Cyn had poured her first coffee.

Groaning, Emma flopped back on the couch. Her head banged into the solid armrest, and she swore. Then she remembered belatedly that Joe and Ripley were sleeping on the other side of the thin wall. Grumbling, she pulled on her shoes and grabbed a sweater off the top of her backpack, and stepped out the door.

Fresh air greeted her like a refreshing cup of Elliot homebrew. Crisp, cold, and dark. The sun had barely begun lightening the distant horizon, and Emma could still see stars off to the west. She loved mornings. At least, when they were on her terms.

Emma wondered, for a moment, if Joe kept a stock of Elliot brew in the bar downstairs. And then she remembered that he had been kicked out of the clan. If they had any in the Fox Hole, it would be left over from when Jib had made arrangements with Cheryl for supply. Since Jib had died, the stock had been diminished because Cheryl refused to deal with Ripley.

The woman who had saved her damned son.

Emma hated that insufferable, illogical woman.

It was too early for a beer anyway, if she wanted to be realistic about it. Then she remembered Leslie’s comment about sharing her wine before the day had even begun. The thought made her smile a little as she descended the stairs.

One nice thing about staying at Joe and Ripley’s was the distance to the bakery. Two and a half blocks. Her and Jordan’s apartment had been on the edge of town, close to the woods, only a mile from the Elliot clan house. Just like it was supposed to be. Being so, she’d had to drive to work. She didn’t mind, but if she had to travel the distance, she would rather run and give Mal a chance to stretch his legs.

He grunted at the thought. We could still run.

Don’t push it.

No one’s around.

That we know of.

She ignored him and turned the corner onto the bakery’s street. The windows were still dark, and while Emma knew she didn’t have to worry about it, she was glad that Cyn hadn’t decided to show up early for work.

Emma didn’t’ know what had possessed her to invite Mason in to test out her new cookie. She didn’t have a new cookie. But she wanted to see him again. Which didn’t help her mood any. With everything going on, the last thing she needed was a distraction in the form of Mason Covey.

Or, maybe it was exactly what she needed. Emma stewed over the thought as she pulled out her keys to unlock the bakery door. She was letting herself be distracted. Even worse, she wanted to be distracted. The more she found herself dwelling on clan politics or Cheryl… she found herself looking for something else to focus on. Like searing green eyes. And a rich, deep voice that seemed out of sorts the with sexy nerd exterior.

It was official. Emma had gone crazy.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had paid any attention to anyone but Jordan. Not that she had really had a choice if they wanted to be successful keeping up their ruse. But it had been easy. She hadn’t wanted to look. Now, it was like someone had flipped a switch the second she and Jordan made it official that they were going to call it off.

Checking the pilot on the oven, Emma turned the knob to light the burners and slid the thermometer onto the rack. Their oven was old school, but it did the job. She thought it added to the charm of the bakery. Not that the public knew that, but Emma enjoyed the thought.

She had just slid the bread into the oven when the front door chimed.

“Emma?” Cyn called through the bakery.

“Yeah.” Emma checked the thermometer a final time and met Cyn behind the front counter.

Even at five-thirty in the morning, Cyn was a vision. Though, she’d upped the level, this morning. A swath of her A-line hair was a deep, sapphire blue that made her green eyes pop even more.

Emma never understood how that woman could roll out of bed looking like she was ready for a night on the town. “Love the hair.”

“Thanks.” Cyn frowned. “You’re here early.”

Emma shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I would get a head start.” She looked pointedly at the espresso machine. “You making coffee?” That was the one thing in the bakery that Emma didn’t do. Her and the damned espresso machine just didn’t get along. The last time she had tried to use it, she had burned herself with the milk steamer and nearly went full grizzly behind the counter.

Cyn shook her head with a smirk. “You really should learn. What if I didn’t come in one day? How would you get coffee?”

“I’d walk to Lou’s and close our espresso bar for the day. Machine broken. Or, Cyn bailed, blame her. The customers would believe it.”

Cyn laughed and switched on the grinder. The room filled with the scent of fresh ground beans, and Emma inhaled slowly, letting the scent work through her. There was nothing like the smell of fresh ground coffee.

Jordan made good coffee. She sighed. She was going to miss his morning coffee.

“You okay Emma?”

Emma grimaced. She had been getting that question a lot lately. She needed to get her shit together. At least on the surface. It was going to be a while before she truly had anything together.

“Had a rough night.” She looked up at Cyn, noting the genuine concern in her eyes. Emma tended to take Cyn for granted, as a mundane. Yet, Cyn was someone that she could talk to, at least about some things. Emma looked away. “Jordan and I broke up.”

Cyn nearly dropped the espresso shot she was pouring into a paper cup. “What!”

“Last night.” Keep it mundane. Right. “It’s been a long time coming. We just didn’t know how to tell anyone.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“Unfortunately, I am.”

Cyn handed Emma a steaming americano. “I’m so sorry. I thought you guys would be together forever.”

“You aren’t the only one.” Emma hoped Cyn wouldn’t catch the undertone to that statement. She sipped her coffee and burned her tongue. “We’re still friends. Things are just a little complicated with our families.”

“What can I do? Want me to make a chocolate cake? Pick up a tub of ice cream? Spike your coffee with whiskey? Seriously, anything.” Cyn gripped her latte with both hands, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet, determination etched on her face.

Emma smiled. “Are you keeping whiskey in the office? If you are, I am offended you haven’t shared before.”

Cyn dropped back onto flat feet. “Shit. You caught me.” She winked.

“Thanks, Cyn. Really. Let’s just work. I’m supposed to come up with some new cookie flavor for today, and I have no idea where to start.”

“New cookie flavor?”

Emma cringed. “Yeah. I might have invited Mason over to try it out.”

“Who?”

“The guy who left his card here the other day.” God, Emma hoped that was the only thing Cyn remembered about him.

“Oh! Right.” Something skittered across Cyn’s expression, but Emma couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “Who is he, anyway?”

“Just a guy. Moved here a couple weeks ago. He’s teaching at Svelte.”

“And why are you inviting him to try new cookies? I thought he pissed you off.” Cyn kicked out her hip and narrowed her eyes at Emma.’

“He did. We’ve been talking a bit since then. Got off on the wrong foot.” Talking about this out loud made her feel stupid. What was she thinking?

“When did you break up with Jordan?”

“Like I said, it is complicated. Okay?” Emma tried to tone her voice to make it sound final, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded.

“Sure.” Cyn drew out the word.

“Just help me come up with a cookie. I don’t need judgement from you, too.”

Evan’s face flashed across Emma’s vision, the word slut ricocheting between her ears.

“You know,” Cyn said quietly, her expression very serious, “you can tell me what is going on.”

“I know.” She just didn’t quite know how to explain the non-mundane stuff. “I’m not much in the mood to talk about it, honestly.”

Cyn studied Emma for a moment, and then shrugged. “Fine.” She peered into the cookie case. “Any ideas for your signature cookie?”

Emma frowned. What had Mason said when he came into the store the first time? He was fixing an… Oreo situation. That was it. “Something with chocolate and cream. Not unlike an Oreo.”

“Oreo?”

She could explain, but it didn’t matter. “Yes. Oreo. There’s a… situation.”

“If you say so.” Cyn slipped her coffee into a sleeve and backed through the door into the kitchen.

Between the two of them, they came up with a cookie that kind of resembled an Oreo. Though, Emma liked to think they had improved on the original. Cyn had a delicious cream cheese filling recipe that they used often in cakes. To compliment it, Emma threw together a batch of dark chocolate macarons. She had never been great at macarons, but it worked out to her benefit that they came out a little flat. It added to the aesthetic.

The focus on their project served as a good distraction for Emma, who had decided that the best course of dealing with her issues was to not think on them at all. She knew that it was a mistake. Mal even brought it up, but she didn’t care.

As Emma and Cyn stood across the bake table from one another, admiring their handiwork, a wave of contentment swept over Emma. Nothing made her feel better than baking.

“I’d eat them.” Cyn said, picking the icing spatula and running a finger along it. She popped her finger in her mouth and sucked off the icing.

“Good. At least someone will.” Emma set to transferring all but four of them to the display tray for the front case. “I’ll clean up if you make me another coffee.”

Cyn shrugged, picked up the display tray and backed through the door to the front. Almost as soon as she had gone up front, the door chimed, starting the first morning chain of regular customers.

Emma left Cyn to it. The sputter and whistle of the espresso machine chorused the usual melody of Cyn’s easy laughter. It was a good thing she liked chatting up their customers. Emma preferred hiding in the back, which she planned on doing for the rest of the day if she could get away with it.

The problem was, the longer she stayed in the back by herself, the more she found herself thinking about Mason. Jordan. Cheryl. Mason.

Emma sighed. So, Cheryl had made Jordan her successor. Even after a night to cool down, the thought brought her rage boiling to the surface, and she crushed the egg in her hand. She barely managed to get away from the mixing bowl without dropping egg shells into it.

She moved to the sink, picking the bits of egg shell into the garbage can while the water warmed up. The door to the front opened and Cyn came in, fresh coffee steaming in her hand.

“First rush successful,” she chimed, setting the coffee down and then looking from the mixing bowl to Emma. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Made a mess out of an egg.” Emma ran her hands under the water.

“If you say so.” Cyn frowned. “‘Course, I don’t quite understand the ‘break-up’ and then immediately coming up with a new cookie recipe for a new man thing, but whatever. No judging. If you need the take the day off, do that. Seriously.”

That was a nice thought, but a bad idea. “No. I’ll be fine. “

Cyn pulled the carton of eggs close and finished adding them to the mix Emma had been working on. “So, how long have you and Jordan been off?”

Emma raised an eyebrow.

“Asking for a friend.”

Laughing, Emma dried her hands and started pulling pans off the wire rack. “Long enough.”

“I mean, he’s on the market now, right?”

“Technically, yes.” Technically, so was Emma. Why did that thought terrify her? She’d wanted this.

“That Mason guy is cute.”

Yeah. And that could definitely spell trouble. “I’m not looking.” She couldn’t be looking. Could she?

Well, if she seriously wanted to get her clan back, then no.

But if she didn’t care?

Then…yes.

What the hell did she want?

“You made him a special batch of cookies, Em.” Cyn folded her arms over her chest, her expression crimped around the edges as if saying that explained a lot.

“Yeah. Well.” What did it mean? She’d been born the alpha. That… should mean something. “I probably shouldn’t have.”

Which was the truth. Her eyes flicked to the plate of four macarons. She should just tip the plate into the trash. Walk away. But she wanted to see the expression on his face when he saw them, his lips when they closed around them. She had even played with the idea of calling them Moreos. Mason’s Oreos.

Mal snorted in her ear.

Shut up.

“Well, I’m just saying. You’ve been stressed lately. Anyone can see it, and if you and Jordan have been on the outs for a while, maybe a night with an attractive newcomer who hasn’t really gotten to know you…”

“Gee, thanks, Cyn.”

“What? I’m serious. Sex is good for nerves.”

And sex the day after a publicly announced break-up was rumor fuel. Not that anyone would know… well, should know. But that wasn’t how things worked when you were part of a clan or surrounded by shifters who could smell sex or another man’s scent on a woman.

Those damned noses told everyone everything. Which was part of the reason her and Jordan’s ruse had been so impressive.

But it had been a long time. Emma shot Cyn a look. She was not helping.

The door chimed and Cyn disappeared in a flourish. As soon as she was gone, Emma gripped her hands to the edge of the counter and closed her eyes. She was Emma Elliot. She had a duty to her clan and to her family to take Cheryl out of the picture once and for all.

She didn’t need to get involved with a stranger.

She was not going to get involved with a stranger.

When Mason came in, if Mason showed up, she’d let him sample the cookies and then she’d tell him she couldn’t see him for a while. She was dealing with some complicated shit. He would understand. It wasn’t like they had really spent any time together, gotten to know each other.

Cyn poked her head back through the door. “Emma, there’s someone here for you.” She gave Emma an exaggerated wink.

Emma’s stomach jumped up into her throat.

Responsibility. Duty.

She paced the words evenly with her breaths, which were too short. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Because she was nervous to see him? Or because of what she knew she needed to do… which she didn’t want to do.

Responsibility. Duty.

“Emma, get a freaking grip,” she muttered to herself, picking up the small tray of macarons.

As soon as Emma walked through the door, Cyn abandoned her with another not so subtle wink.

“You came.” Emma had to fight back a cringe at the relieved tenor of her voice. Not. Helping.

Mason grinned. The corners of his eyes crinkled behind his glasses, and the green of his eyes dazzled. “I’m not one to turn down a cookie.”

“Good to know. If I ever need anything, I’ll just offer you a treat.”

“You make it sound like I’m easy.” He wilted dramatically, and then shot back to attention, laughter on his lips. “What do you got for me?”

Emma could feel herself already losing grip on her focus. He was just so easy to be around. So…happy. Charming. Innocent.

Distracting.

She lifted the plate of macarons from behind the counter and set them in front of him.

The train of thought that played across his face was near comical in its clarity. Confusion. Curiosity. Question. A lightbulb. Then a laugh that started in his stomach and rumbled all the way up his throat and out his lips.

“You did say you were trying to fix an Oreo situation,” Emma said, nudging the plate in his direction. For what they were, Emma really was impressed with how they’d turned out. Sure, most people wouldn’t have made the connection to an Oreo. They were macarons after all, not wafer cookies. But he had made the leap, and that was what she’d been going for.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind. But.” He picked one up and held it to his nose. “They smell divine.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off his lips.

As he took a bite, the door creaked behind Emma, and she flipped a glance over her shoulder to see Cyn peering through the door with one eye. Real subtle. Damn woman. Despite herself, Emma felt the heat rising up her cheeks again and she desperately willed it away as she glowered at Cyn and turned back to Mason.

“What do you think?”

Mason moaned, head turned up towards the ceiling, eyes closed.

Dear…god. That man.

He hadn’t reacted like that to the chocolate chip cookie the first time he came in. Was he putting on a show, or was it really that good?

Emma realized suddenly that she hadn’t even tried one. She knew what Cyn’s filling tasted like, and she had made chocolate macarons before… Still, it was a silly lapse on her part.

“Would you believe that I haven’t tried one yet?”

Mason’s eyes shot open, mouth half around his second bite. “You’re not serious,” he said through a mouth full of filling and meringue.

She leaned over the plate of macarons, too aware of the way her hair fell over her left shoulder just right. “Completely.”

Mason shook his head, and picked up a macaron. He had it half way to her mouth before Emma realized what he was doing.

Mal urged a warning through her thoughts.

Emma pulled back, snapping the macaron out of his fingers and popping the entire thing into her mouth completely ungracefully.

His eyebrows furrowed, confused and then embarrassed. Like he had been the one to do something wrong.

Emma cursed mentally, her heart racing, her blood on fire as she chewed through the macaron without tasting it. She had to choke it down, trying to quell the pit of unease gurgling in her stomach. She had just flirted with him. What did she expect?

“Beat you to it,” she said, trying to play off her actions, but the damage had already been done.

“Sure did.” The playfulness had gone from his eyes.

Why did Emma keep doing that? Just when he opened up, she smacked him down. But she needed to do that. He couldn’t get any ideas. Even if she wanted him to. Dammit. She didn’t want him to. She didn’t.

“I am glad you liked them.” Emma shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. The ease of banter between them had evaporated.

Well, at least she’d started him in the right direction.

His brow furrowed, and he set the rest of his cookie down.

Emma picked up a small paper sack and used tongs to transfer the two remaining cookies. “You should take these for your parents. My treat.” She rolled over the edge of the bag and handed it over the counter to him.

Mason took the hint, an echo of confusion still on his face. Then he fluttered his eyelids and shook his head, a gesture Emma wasn’t quite sure she was supposed to notice. Like he had been clearing his thoughts.

“Right. I am sure they’ll love them.” He pulled back one side of his jacket and dug into an interior pocket, emerging with a battered index card. “I wanted to ask…I mean, do you do custom orders?”

Had he just blushed? Emma’s chest constricted. “Yes. You bet we do.” She forced out a wide smile, the one she had practiced to perfection for when she and Jordan attended clan functions.

Mason handed her the card without meeting her eyes. “Since my parents don’t have a kitchen, I thought maybe I would see if you could make this for me. I can barely cook, let alone bake. And Monday is my mom’s birthday. I can’t remember a time when we didn’t have…” He frowned. “Sorry. I’m rambling.” A long breath. “Will it fit into your schedule?” The tone of his voice shifted to all business.

Emma looked down at the card. Classic Chocolate Meringue Pie. Easy enough. But she forced herself to adopt the business tone that Mason’s voice had shifted to. “We don’t usually do personal recipes. But, we don’t have any customs on the schedule for Monday. I think we can squeeze it in.” Pulling out an order form, Emma scribbled out the details, running down the list. “Would you like this delivered? Or will you be picking it up here?”

Now Mason was shifting from foot to foot. “Delivered please. Around 6:30pm, if that’s possible.”

“Absolutely.” She turned the paper towards him. “Sign here.”

He did.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Okay.” Mason straightened his jacket. “Have a good day, Emma. It was…good to see you.” He turned away

“See you, Mason.” The door chimed and then closed behind him.

Cyn burst from the kitchen in a flurry. “Emma Elliot, what the hell is wrong with you!”

“Not now, Cyn.” Emma tossed the tongs onto the counter by the espresso machine. They clanged off the side and tumbled to the floor.

“Don’t you ‘not now’ me, damnit. He is obviously into you.” She put her hands on her hips in a huff. “And you didn’t see your face when he ate that cookie. I thought things were about to get R-rated.”

“Cyn, I am not fifteen. I have other things I have to deal with right now that aren’t cute boys, okay?” Emma pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. She pinned the recipe up to the Monday task board and nearly ran into Cyn when she turned back to the bake table.

“You aren’t getting out of it that easy, missy.”

Emma frowned. No, she wasn’t. Her chest ached, right in the spot where her heart was supposed to be. Except, right now, she wasn’t sure it was there at all. For the first time in longer than she liked to think about, she had felt something for somebody that wasn’t Jordan, even after there was nothing left to feel for him.

Every part of her knew that she was crazy. She didn’t know Mason. But, dammit, she wanted to know him. She wanted to give this new part of her life a fucking fighting chance. And she couldn’t do that with Cheryl as alpha.

Cheryl would forbid Emma to date a porcupine, and she would inflict her alpha will to make the mandate law.

Why hadn’t Emma thought of that before this?

“Cyn, can you cover the rest of the day for me?” Emma took off her apron before Cyn even answered. “I need to take care of something.”

“Damn straight you do.”

Emma was taking charge of her life. One way or another.