And the idea of her being the one for me just makes me happier than it really should. Then again, I have so many emotions whirling around inside of me right now that I’m not sure which ones I should pay any attention to. Foxy and I have been apart for a long time. People change a lot in five years, but then again, maybe we don’t change as much as we like to think that we do.
“Maybe…” She starts to say, but then she thinks better of it and clamps her lips shut. Oh, no, that is so not going to fly. I want to know everything the little fox is thinking about.
“Foxy? What is it?” I gently prod, not wanting to scare her off. She’s fragile right now, but probably not as fragile as I think. Still, I don’t want to spook her or freak her out. I want her to feel comfortable opening up to me and being honest with me about everything.
“Could I come with you today? To the bakery?” She asks.
“Seriously? You’d want to come in?” My inner-lion purrs. It’s a good excuse, honestly. If she comes with me, she can stay close while I’m trying to figure out who is after her and why. Something tells me there’s more to the story than either one of us knows.
“Yeah. I mean…if that’s okay.” She’s suddenly nervous, and I nod, calming her down quickly. There’s no need for her to worry about coming with me.
“I’d love for you to come with me. We can try to figure out what’s going on together while I get some baking done. What about you, though? Do you have to teach any classes today?” I know she’s a teacher, and I bet she’s an incredible one. She’s always had a way with words, and a way with people. Foxy has the ability to get people to work hard and to believe in themselves. I’ve always loved that about her.
She shakes her head.
“I’m off for the next few days. I needed some time to recharge, so I scheduled some time off.”
“Good,” I say, nodding my approval. “It’s important to take time for yourself when you need it, and let’s be honest: teaching isn’t an easy job.”
“No, it’s not. Parents are really hard on their kids, and they’re even harder on the teachers. You’d think it would be the other way around.”
“That parents would be understanding?”
“Yeah.”
“Most of the parents are probably people who are like my mom and dad.”
“Overbearing?” She asks gently.
“Yeah.”
“Your mom always seemed like she wanted what was best for you,” Foxy points out. “I guess I never really thought about what that might look like, though.”
She doesn’t need to elaborate. My mom has always wanted what she feels is best for me. She hasn’t wanted what I know is best for me.
“My dad definitely cared. After he died, my mom was a lot more intense. I think because my parents were always poor, she was worried that I’d somehow have the same fate. She always wanted me to be a CEO or to run a business.”
“That explains the grad school mess.”
“For sure. Although, it doesn’t explain why she doesn’t like the business I run now. I started the bakery on my own and created it without anyone helping me. I have Henry now, but for a long time, it was just me hanging out and baking cakes.”
“You’re good at it, too, from what I hear,” she murmurs. The words are quiet, almost too quiet, and I wonder for a second if she’s ever tried anything that I’ve made. That might be asking too much, though. I don’t want to ask her. Not just yet.
“What about your mom?” I ask, turning the conversation back to parents. I almost never see Foxy’s mom. Sometimes, very rarely, she’ll come into the shop with Foxy’s brother, Max. Like me, Foxy doesn’t have a dad, so I try to be extra kind to her brother. Growing up without a pop isn’t easy. In fact, it’s one of the hardest things in the world. Now that I don’t consider myself to have a mom, either, it?
?s even harder.
“She was always pretty supportive,” Foxy says.
“I get that vibe from her.”
“You see her in the shop, huh?”
“Very rarely. Sometimes your brother comes in with her, or with his friends after school.” He’s young to be wandering around town on his own, but Claw Valley is a small place. A lot of the kids walk home from school together and they’ll stop in the shop to buy a couple of cupcakes or cookies to take home with them. I often wonder how many of the treats these kids purchase actually make it home. Somehow, I get the feeling that their parents don’t even know they’ve been stopping by to buy after-school snacks.
“He told me,” she smiles. “He says you always sneak him extra cookies.”
I just shrug noncommittally. Foxy rolls her eyes, but stands up and smoothes out her blanket. She’s beautiful, even like this, and there’s a little part of me that wants to reach out and tug on the edge of the blanket so that it falls to the floor and pools around her feet. I want to see her soft, luscious breasts, and I want to see her tummy. Then I want to see everything else: her pussy, her thighs. I want to see all of her and I want to devour her with my eyes, and then my tongue. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath.