Josephina Rodriguez, Josie, glared at the glass door intently, as if that would magically lure customers in. Since Howling for Bread—one of those awful mega-chain bakeries—opened across the street, the few customers who bought their bread tickled away. Only a few, the loyal ones who have been buying their bread since her grandfather and father’s time, came by. These days, they threw out far too many unsold bread than necessary.
“Thieves. Assholes,” Josie grumbled under her breath.
The wolf inside her agreed. Who did these bastards think they were, trying to steal their customers and bump Hot Buns for You off the grid? Their shop has been here for over a century damn it, and there wasn’t enough space in the small town of Curve Valley to accommodate two bakeries.
“You know, sis, glowering at the door won’t get us any customers,” Pansy, her younger sister and only employee, muttered.
Pansy peered out the windows at the pristine two-storey building across the street, her flame-colored hair shining. At eighteen, Pansy stopped school to help at the bakery, but she also danced the pole at night. Pansy was the kind of strong-willed woman who didn’t care about the opinions of others, least of all, Josie’s, so Josie stopped trying to convince her to stop stripping. Besides, they needed the extra money.
Josie wished she possessed half of Pansy’s nerve, so she could walk out of the store and tell Carson Fox, the owner of Howling for Bread, what she thought about his shady business plans. I would serve the asshole right for being embaressed by a strong and independent business woman, except...Josie caught a whiff of the bastard when he first arrived.
Carson was a wolf shifter too. Worse, he smelled of power. What was a lone Alpha doing anyway, managing a bakery? Their town was small, populated by some members of the supernatural and co-existed with humans, but there were no dominant animal groups, no packs to join or fight to get into.
Was Carson passionate about bread too, like Josie? Impossible. All the bastard cared about was money and stealing away their customers.
“Instead of sitting here, stewing, why don’t you go give Carson Fox a piece of your mind, sis?” Pansy teased.
“What? That would be unprofessional.”
Pansy let out an unladylike snort. “That or you’re scared. Never thought I’d see the day Josephina Rodriguez would back away from a fight, considering your reputation in high school.”
“High school was five years ago,” Josie retorted.
Besides, the only reason they called her the ‘fire-breathing bitch’ was because she’d refused to let bullies get in her way. Despite her many attempts to diet and slim down in her early pre-teen years, Josie never quite succeeded. Her love of bread and cake prevented that.
After a couple of boys played a cruel joke on her, she decided that day she wouldn’t let any asshole belittle her ever again. Josie loved her body and wasn’t ashamed of her curves. She was a successful business woman who made the best brioche in town...well, the former was about to be taken away by a conniving bastard of an Alpha.
“This is our town,” Josie said under her breath.
“Damn right, Josie. Go get him,” Pansy said, showing her a flash of teeth.
What was that all about? Josie frowned, trying to get a read on her sister, but as usual, got nothing. They were never close growing up because they were too different—light and dark, plain and sensual; they were two sides of the same coin. Only their love for bread united them as well as sharing the dream of keeping their father’s bakery alive.
“What’s this to you?” Josie finally asked, crossing her arms over her breasts.
“Nothing, I’m so sick of you mooning over this guy. Go get some action so we can focus on driving him and his business out.”
“Mooning? Excuse me. I’m doing no such thing over our rival, our enemy.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “The walls are thin in our apartment. I hear you at night you know, calling out his name while you engage in your private—”
“That’s enough. Don’t you have a filter?” Josie muttered.
Of course, Pansy didn’t possess one. She’d grown up with Pansy, who spoke first before thinking. It was luck of the draw the same werewolf bit them both five years ago. Josie was eighteen then, and Pansy only thirteen. They were coming home one late night when a rabid wolf bit them. Josie supposed they’d grown closer ever since.
“The bakery,” Josie began, but Pansy held out a finger.
“Will be fine. Do you see any customers? No.” Pansy gave the space a look. “We’re in deep trouble, aren’t we, sis?”
“How would I, mouthing off to Carson Fox, help? He won’t change his mind.”
“Oh, who knows? I hear you can be pretty scary.”
Josie stuck a tongue out at Pansy, feeling a little childish, but it was good to have these little moments now and then. She took off her apron and folded it to one side, already armed with the words she wanted to tell this arrogant Alpha.
“You’re really going then?”
Josie let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s get this over with. Besides, I need to let off some steam.”
“Don’t forget to buy a sample of their latest creation. I want to know what’s the damn fuss about this new diet bread of theirs all the teens in town keep raving about,” Pansy reminded Josie on her way out.
“I will,” Josie promised. Diet bread? What the hell? No one ate bread to lose weight. Bread was a basic necessity, for enjoyment. Carson Fox had to wreck that concept too? That was it.
Full of fury, she walked out the bakery, ready to bring hell to Carson. It was a short walk to the fancy building in front of them. This Alpha had guts, setting up shop right in front of theirs. Heads turned to her direction as she walked in. Josie couldn’t blame the gawkers, because anger must have rolled off her in waves.
She took a good look around, dismayed by the sight of the neat and elegant displays, and the bread...God. They smelled good, despite being made by enemy hands. Josie took a good whiff. Dang it. Even her supernatural nose could detect they used good ingredients.
Her wolf scented something else though—the distinctive scent of a powerful male. Josie halted in her footsteps, anger evaporating slightly at the sight of the six-foot Alpha grinning at her from behind the cashier.
“Stuart, take over,” he said, jumping across the counter with incredible ease and agility despite his size.
Muscles padded his entire body. Hitting him might be more disastrous than good, because Josie had a feeling it would be like slamming a fist into a brick wall. Hell and damnation, but why did he have to be a good-looking bastard? Dark black hair kept short, Carson looked like he spent plenty of time under the sun, because his skin was nicely golden.
Amused electric blue eyes stared back at her from a handsome face. Unable to help herself, Josie took in the tiny details, like the slight stubble covering his jaws and skin, his nose—probably broken a few times, and the faint white scar on his left cheek. He probably had more under his clothes.
Her she-wolf gave this unbelievably attractive yet curiously single male her stamp of approval. If Carson were mated, Josie would have smelled the lingering scent of another man or woman on him, but he smelled clean, amazing, like pine, bread and wolf musk. Not an entirely unpleasant combination.
Carson didn’t wear a suit to differentiate himself from the rest of his employees, but a similar plain black shirt with the words ‘Howling for Bread’ stamped across his chest. His well-defined chest, Josie noted.
How would it feel like, to be pulled into a tight embrace by those powerful arms, to feel her bountiful breasts and curves, pressing against his hard torso?
They were like soft bread and hard rock. They were enemies, but somehow, Josie wanted nothing better than to feel those hands on her body and those tempting but cruel lips descending on hers with vicious passion.
Her world came to a complete halt and she completely forgot why she came here in the first place.
Jesus. She ought to get herself checked out, or at the very least, get her head out of the gutter. While still a virgin at twenty-two—practically unheard of for a female werewolf—she wasn’t entirely inexperienced and naïve. Those smoldering blue eyes though, told her wicked promises. The closer Carson got to her, the more her imagination went wild.
God. Moisture wet her panties. She clenched her legs close, swallowing, aware of the ache in her nipples. Could Carson see the buds tightening under her thin shirt? Just what was it about this man that made her react like a teenager?
“Cat caught your tongue, Josephina?” he asked.