“Good heavens, what happened?”
Aunt Hilde flapped her towel in the air the moment Baxter strolled in. Clint ducked by everyone and lunged for the back door to open it so the air could circulate.
“Perfume lady caught Baxter,” Ricky said. He didn’t bother to hide his laugh.
Clint scowled at him. “It’s not funny. That smell is going to linger in my car for a week. I’ll have to ride with the windows down until it wears off.”
“If it wears off,” Ricky added gleefully.
“You’re not helping,” Baxter said.
Baxter set the bags on Aunt Hilde’s counter and started to unpack the items. “It’s not my fault,” he said gruffly. “She ambushed me.”
"Just wash your clothes in vinegar instead of soap," Aunt Hilde said. She looked at the half-gallon of Rocky Road ice cream and lifted her eyebrow at Baxter in question.
He motioned with his head to the youngest of the wolf pack who was busy organizing his boxes of chocolates.
She chuckled softly and put it in the freezer. “The aroma should come out with no issue.”
“We got everything on your list, Aunt Hilde,” Clint said. He watched as Ricky sorted his boxes next. "And then some. You didn't make her pay for that, did you?"
“No,” Ricky said. He pulled out a receipt and handed it to Baxter, who eyed it suspiciously.
“What do I want with that?” Baxter asked.
“Reimbursement. I bought the chocolates for the shop. To leave out for the customers.”
“We don’t get that many customers.”
“We might. It’s Valentine’s Day. Maybe some housewives want to bring in their husbands’ lawn tools to get them fixed as a present.”
Baxter shook his head. “I…have no idea where to file that in the cabinet of ‘this makes no sense.’”
“File it under Ricky. That makes plenty of sense on its own.” Clint said. He pulled out a cookie sheet and started waving it in Baxter’s direction. “Dude, take your shirt off or something. You’re giving me a headache.”
“So what are you making, Auntie?” Ricky asked. He held up the can of cocoa powder.
"A red velvet cake for Harvey for Valentine's Day. It's a recipe passed down from my mother. It uses the chemistry of the ingredients to make it red. No relying on red food dye."
“I say it’s lost on the likes of Harvey,” Clint said with a grin to her as she walked around behind him to put the buttermilk in the refrigerator. “You should let us eat it.”
“You boys are getting a chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting.”
“Chocolate overload,” Baxter said. “Why a cake? For Harvey, I mean. Shouldn’t he be doing something for you?”
Aunt Hilde shrugged. “It’s a special day and I want to do something special for him.”
“You’re not fooling us,” Clint said. “You like him.”
"Don't be foolish. Of course I like him. He's a decent, kind man, and he keeps the community house grounds looking wonderful. It's a nice way to say thank you."
“By making a cake from the vaults of the family recipe book.” Clint winked at her. “I got you.”
She bapped him with the hand towel.
“It must be serious,” Baxter said. Clint was right. The lingering perfume was giving him a headache. He stripped off his shirt and dropped it outside the kitchen door. "Usually, we get the box cake."
“Lying is unattractive in any man,” Aunt Hilde said primly. “You have spare shirts in the laundry room. I’m not going to have you wandering around with your naked chest hanging out.”
Baxter laughed. “Not sure what I said was a lie.”
He went to the laundry room to dig out a shirt.
No one in Baxter’s pack dared defy their Aunt Hilde.
Although aunt was more metaphorical than literal.
She was their foster mother. Everyone in Baxter’s pack spent the hardest parts of their lives growing up in her care. She selflessly took in lycan-infected children who had no other homes.
The lycan virus had long been under control, but society still had no desire to deal with the devastation still being wrought.
Aunt Hilde’s kindness and generosity won her the hearts and devotion of dozens of lycan-infected boys and girls through the years.
For Baxter in particular, he took that particularly seriously. Especially after she decided to retire. She had no children of her own, and the rest of her family were scattered to the four corners of the world.
He had gathered up the few werewolves who held affection towards her, combined their money to buy her a house in a small subdivision. He then opened a shop to employ those who, like him, wanted to stay close to her.
Clint peered over Aunt Hilde’s shoulder to look at her recipe. "It's an awful lot of stuff to go into a cake. They have box mix for it, right?"
"Blasphemer. One does not simply make a cake for a special occasion out of a box. Besides, I know my red velvet cake is far superior to Anne Luthrow’s cakes,” she said with a prim sniff.
“There it is,” Clint said with a knowing nod. “That’s why Harvey gets a cake from scratch.”
Aunt Hilde huffed out and snatched the confectionary sugar out of his hand. “What do you boys have planned for February 14?”
“Jarod is heading to Las Vegas,” Ricky said. “And Xander is having a cookout for the pack.”
"I'm headed to Pensacola to celebrate with the kids at the hospital. I already have over a hundred Valentine's cards collected and written out," Clint said.
“You should settle down and have children of your own,” Aunt Hilde said with an affectionate kiss to his cheek.
“Maybe one day, auntie.”
“What about you, honey?” Aunt Hilde asked Baxter. “Have anything special planned with Logan?”
“No. Not buying into this foolishness. I think Logan already knows I fancy him. I don’t need to make a grand proclamation about it,” Baxter said gruffly.
She pursed her lips. “I see.”
The way she said it spoke volumes of her disapproval.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Clint and Aunt Hilde exchanged glances. Clint lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
“What?” Baxter asked again.
“Well, it just seems a shame that you’d be so selfish. I thought I raised you better than that,” she explained.
“Selfish? How is it selfish to not buy into a holiday that the suits on Madison Avenue have people convinced I must tell my loved ones I love them on that day?”
“So you do love him?” Ricky asked.
"Stay out of this," Baxter barked. "I'm saying that if I truly care about someone, why would I wait for one day out of three hundred and sixty-four to tell them? Why wouldn't I just tell them on any day? On every day?”
"No reason. It's just a nice gesture, that's all." Aunt Hilde patted his arm to soothe him. "I'm sure Logan won’t be too hurt.”
Baxter threw his hands up and stalked out of the kitchen to find a fresh t-shirt.
* * *
It was good that Baxter changed out of his good shirt. Being covered in perfume saved it. Hilde's chore for the day was repainting her spare bedroom. On any given day, her unexpected tasks led to Baxter leaving 'chores clothes' over at her house, just for those spontaneous messy jobs.
Between the three of them, Baxter, Clint, and Ricky had the room painted in record time.
In fact, the timing was perfect. It was time for Logan to get home. Baxter collected the rollers and brushes and volunteered to rinse them off just so he could be outside when Logan pulled in.
He wasn't disappointed. At five-fifteen on the nose, Logan pulled his Suburban into the drive and parked in front of his garage.
That was something Baxter never understood. If you have a garage, use it.
Logan insisted that’s where he kept his stuff.
Baxter didn’t understand stuff. He never had stuff when he was growing up. It was a habit, or lack of habit, that he didn’t have stuff now. Everything he owned he had a use and a reason. Otherwise, there was no room to store it.
It was cute that Logan had stuff, though. Baxter would probably like Logan's stuff.
Logan waved as he strolled around his SUV. "Hey, Baxter. I guess that means Hilde finally settled on a color for her guest room," he said.
Baxter wiped his forehead with his arm. He could feel the splatters of paint that had hardened on his face. “Yeah. I am not sure I understand the difference between Eggshell White and Ivory White. It’s just paint.”
He clucked his tongue. "You've lived with her this long, and you still haven’t figured out that when a lady sets her mind on something, the devil is in the details.”
“I try not to think too hard on it.”
Logan shifted his briefcase and jacket to one hand to pull his phone. “Good plan. So what do you have planned for tonight?”
“Nothing that I can’t get out of. Did you have something in mind?” And Baxter would ignore that cute little tickle in his gut that Logan would even ask him.
He turned the water off and swung the rollers down hard to shake the excess water off. He was careful not to do it in Logan’s direction.
“Hilde wants to go to Bingo tonight. I was hoping you’d come with us.”
Okay, so maybe that would be one of the few things Baxter would try to get out of.
Except it was Logan.
But it was Bingo.
And Logan would be there.
But it was Bingo.
He glanced up to see Logan watching him intently with a serious expression on his face.
Baxter plastered on a smile. “I’d love to go,” he finally said. It surprised him how he managed to sound excited about it.
Logan pursed his lips. “You’re not exactly enthusiastic about it. Can I sweeten the pot and offer a trip to Chastain’s for an ice cream shake?”
With a gesture of his cleaned brush, Baxter nodded. "Now you're talking. I'll even let you buy."
Logan laughed softly. It was such a great laugh. “It starts at seven. Don’t be late.”