I sat in my pickup and stared at her as she crossed the snowy car park. It was like watching an angel, all blonde and glorious, come towards me. I got out, went around to the passenger side, and held the door open.

“Hello, Mr. Carson,” she greeted as she got nearer.

“Miss Young,” I said formally, but there was that lilt in my voice that only came when she was around.

Today she had brought a faint but extremely delicious scent with her. I sniffed the air as she climbed into the truck. It was coming from her backpack.

With a song in my heart I went around to my side. Inside the truck the smell intensified. It hit me in the gut the moment I got in, and damn near knocked me flat. My reaction was the equivalent to what you’d see when my wolves catch the scent of warm rabbit. I started salivating. I felt the empty, hungry hole right through my middle. My stomach growled so loudly she had to have heard it.

Her voice was chipper and full of laughter. “I’m glad you’re hungry, because I brought cupcakes for us.”

No kidding, can I have some, how many are there, can I have more than one, come in, come in! It was a long, long time since vanilla icing melted away in my mouth.

“It sure smells good,” was what I actually said. “Thank you.”

I lived with the scent of those luscious things all the way back, which I admit made me drive a whole lot faster than I usually would on dangerous roads. I parked as close to the house as I could. Fortunately, there had been a break in the cold spell and getting into the house wasn’t as treacherous. Except for Chepi who came for a quick, wary rub. The other wolves hung around at a safe distance. I didn’t hold Lara, or anything like that, but I watched her like a hawk as she made it up the path to the house.

As soon as I opened the front door she walked in and made straight for the kitchen. She put her backpack on the kitchen table and pulled out a box of cupcakes from it. I was impressed by how quickly she had learned her way around the house. When she turned back to look at me she pegged where I was right away, as though she could actually see me. Her sense of direction was uncanny.

“Nothing like sweet cupcakes to go along with a bitter book,” she said.

I had to grin at that. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Will you have some tea with me?” she asked.

I didn’t have it in me to say no and that was how I wound up sitting across the table from an angel in disguise, taking small sips of something that tasted like hot dishwater from a chipped cup (I gave her the good one) while she opened up the box of cupcakes.

It was damn near surreal, that cozy scene right there in my kitchen.

I looked at the cupcakes, at how perfectly iced and decorated they were, and paused. “Did you buy these?”

“No, I made them. I am a fantastic baker,” she said, without any false modesty. Reaching into the box she brought out a cupcake for me, then one for herself. “I can’t cook worth a damn, but I can bake like nobody’s business.”

“But that’s really … intensive work, right? Lots of tiny measurements?”

She shrugged. “I like that part of it. I know it seems like it would be hard for me, but it’s not. I like a world that can be measured and planned out. I do it to relax. Especially when people annoy me.”

I stopped peeling the sparkly paper off the cake. Was that a hint? “Has someone been annoying you?”

“Don’t worry it’s not you,” she said with the biggest grin I had ever seen. I loved her grin. It was so open, trusting and vulnerable. There was nothing behind it. You could trust it.

I watched as she broke her cupcake in half, then turned the top of it upside down. With a naughty smile she pushed the two halves together, squishing the icing in between the two layers. It oozed out one side onto her slim fingers. I watched as she licked it from her skin.

My body suddenly didn’t want to behave. I shifted in my seat and I stared at her hungrily. I wanted to fucking eat her, not the cake.

Holding her cupcake like a cheeseburger she leaned forward and, opening her mouth wide, took a generous bite out of the sweet sandwich. When she pulled back, her whole mouth was covered with icing and her eyes were closed with pleasure.

“I am such a fucking good baker!” she growled.

The laugh came out of nowhere, bubbling out of me faster than I could control it. Ah, hell, why not? I let it roll out, booming out my chest like thunder far too close. It felt so good that I did it again.

Then Lara took another bite, and stuck out her tongue like a child, and damned if it wasn’t funny, if I didn’t absolutely lose it. I laughed so hard it hurt – my ribs, my chest, my throat, my lips, all of it actually ached. Lara laughing hard seemed to keep me going, too–it was contagious.

In the midst of that surprise pleasure, a strange thought came to me:

How long had it been?

How long had it been since I laughed with another human being? Really, truly laughed? My mind went back through the long years I had spent in that house, and I finally came up with an answer. Never! The last time I had laughed was when I saw the littlest wolf, Benjamin, go after a snowshoe hare, and go tip over top through the snow. He came up with a look of such complete surprise that I had to laugh at the little booger.

That was three months ago.

The silence after the laughter was comfortable. I ate one cupcake the old-fashioned way, and then turned the second one into a sandwich. Lara began to read. Her sweet voice flowing over me as I bit into the cake. The world was good.

I decided I liked the cupcake better the sandwich way.