“Is that what you’re still doing?”
“Nah. I finally capitulated and opened a hot dog eatery in the Breed district. Call me old-fashioned, but I always liked selling hot dogs. It’s nice not having to worry about taxes.” He sipped his coffee, and his grey eyes lit up. “But I guess you know all about that by now. Ever thought about selling the candy store?”
I shrugged. “We still make good money, and it belongs to April. I own it, but it’s always been her store.”
Charlie set down his empty cup and pushed it away. “I need to talk to your Packmaster.”
I huffed out a laugh and tapped my fingers on the table, irritated with his demand. “What do you need to talk to him about? He’s not going to set you up with a room so you can fight with us.”
“I really don’t care for moving in with anyone. I’m here to offer you my help.”
“The war might not even happen. Not for years, so you’re wasting your time down here.”
Charlie nodded. “True. But if there’s one thing an immortal has, it’s time. I’m not a na?ve man. April’s never going to forgive me, and that’s understandable. I’m not here to win her over, because she has every right to hate me. But I’ll never be square with the fates unless I atone for my sins. I’m a penitent man, and the window of time I have to make peace with her is a short one. Time stops for no man, and she isn’t getting any younger.”
“You could have told us you were leaving. Maybe if you had confided in us, we would have understood.”
He laughed richly. “That would have meant telling you about the Breed world, and you wouldn’t have been prepared for it. And then to just leave you with that information?” He shook his head. “It could have placed you in danger with the loan shark I was working with.”
“Yeah, Maddox isn’t a forgiving man.”
His brows popped up. “How do you know his name?”
“Well, Charlie, if you’d done a really thorough investigation, you might have discovered that Maddox and my mother are now an item.”
He tossed his spectacles on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping I wouldn’t run into him during this trip.”
I gave him a mirthless smile and carried his empty cup to the trash. “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
Chapter 8
Two weeks had passed since Charlie shocked us with his return. Austin spoke with him privately, although he didn’t disclose to me the details of their conversation. He didn’t want to upset April by mentioning his name in our house. Aside from that, Maddox would probably skin him alive. We were certain April hadn’t told Maddox; otherwise, he would have been out for blood. God knows we had enough to worry about with the rogues. I hadn’t seen Charlie since, and that was probably for the best. For several days I couldn’t concentrate at work—constantly looking up each time the bell jingled on the door, thinking it might be Charlie.
I licked icing off my finger and set the butter knife on the counter.
“Holy shitola. It’s like Betty Crocker had an orgy.” Denver stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes wide at the cupcakes covering every visible inch of countertop and table available. “What the train wreck is going on in here?”
“Want one?”
A hysterical laugh bubbled out, and he raked his fingers through his light hair, examining the kitchen as if it were a crime scene. “I don’t think one cupcake is going to make much of a dent. Is this for a client?”
I worried my lip and wiped a few crumbs into the sink. “No, I just wanted to bake some cupcakes. One dozen led to four, and the rest is history.”
“You’re a bag of nuts.” He lifted a red-velvet cupcake and licked the frosting. “Good thing the twins have been playing outside all day or else—”
“Wow,” someone whispered in awe.
Two boys with russet-colored hair stood in the open doorway, eyes as wide as saucers as they took in the unholy display of sugar.
“Too late,” Denver sang, gobbling up his cupcake in one bite. He wiped some icing on his faded, long-sleeved shirt.
“May we have one, Aunt Lexi? We’ll share, if that’s okay.”
I laughed inwardly at their politeness and held up a finger. “One each.”
They took their time, perusing the table and investigating all the different flavors.
“So what’s up with you lately?” Denver asked. “Does this have to do with why April’s been acting funny?”
When the boys began giggling, I peered over my shoulder and saw Spartacus standing on one of the long benches, licking a cupcake.
“Take him out of here,” I snapped. “I don’t need all my cupcakes covered in cat hair.”
They snatched their treats and raced into the living room, the cat under Hendrix’s arm.
“It calms me,” I replied. “I don’t know how to explain it, but baking is therapeutic.”
“You should let your mate work out some of those kinks.”