Free The Polar Bear's Baby (Honeypot Babies Book 1) by Sophie Stern Page A

with the truck to help her load up her belongings, then I end the call. Turning back to the cookies, I add a bit more flour and keep mixing. I’ve got a stand mixer and all the fancy gadgets – and good baker would – but sometimes I still like to mix things by hand. It’s relaxing. Mixing something gives me a chance to clear my mind and just focus on what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. It’s like meditation or yoga, but I get to eat a delicious cookie when I’m done.
    The door out front chimes. I’ve got a customer.
    “Be right there,” I call out and reach for my roll of plastic wrap. Covering the bowl of dough, I place it in the fridge to cool. You don’t have to cool dough to make your cookies, but it really does make a difference in the final flavor. When I first started baking, I tried to take shortcuts in my dough prep as a way to save time, but quickly learned it wasn’t worth ruining the end result. Not properly cooling batter can take cookies from “awesome” to “pretty good,” and that’s not something I’m willing to do. Not with my bakery.
    I wash my hands quickly, then head out front. I’m not sure if Hope is stopping by to pick up some lemon tarts for the guys at the Blair Ranch or if Savannah wants to pick up some brownies for her son, but I’ve got them both covered. If it’s someone new, someone who isn’t a regular at the shop, I’ve got them covered, too.
    When I step into the front of my shop, it’s not Hope or Savannah waiting for me, though. I know even before the tall figure turns around exactly who has come to Bear’s Bakery, and I don’t think he’s interested in buying cookies today.
    “Hello, Aidan,” Richard turns around. “I think we need to talk.”
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Richard is tall. He’s tall for a shifter and definitely tall for a human. I’ve never considered myself to be short and even I find myself craning my neck to look at him. Today he seems even taller than usual, which I chalk up to the fact that he’s obviously here to talk about Mia.
    He doesn’t look mad or upset. That’s not Richard’s style. Instead, he looks confused, pensive. One thing I’ve always respected about Richard is that when he has a problem with someone, he goes directly to that person.
    The only downside to this is that obviously, today I’m that person.
    “Richard,” I say, coming into the front of the bakery. Sunlight streams through the open windows giving the space a warm, welcoming vibe. It’s one of the reasons I love my bakery. I’ve tried to make it as comfortable and cozy as possible. I get a lot of customers and I want them to keep coming back again and again.
    Part of the appeal of living in Honeypot is the close shifter community. Having a great place where people can get together, eat cookies, and have pie is part of how I give back. I do a lot of discount days, freebies for fundraisers, and donations for special events in town, but I also make enough money at the bakery where I don’t have to worry about losing my shop or stressing about prices.
    Now, as I stand in the center of my quaint little shop, I try to figure out how I’m going to tell Richard the truth about me and Mia. Obviously, he knows. Mia and I have kept things low-key in Honeypot. She spent last weekend here and I drove up one night and saw her, then came back early enough to open my shop the next morning. Aside from that, though, we haven’t really gone to any social events as a couple or come out publicly with our relationship.
    It’s not that we’re hiding anything or ashamed of our relationship, it’s just that until she talked to Richard, we didn’t want things to get too crazy. Our community might be close-knit, but part of that means anything you do quickly becomes everyone’s business. It’s hard to have secrets in a small town. That’s doubly true when shifters are involved. Maybe it’s because we can smell each other’s emotions or because our senses are heightened,