Series: Little Cakes Series by Pepper North
Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“Hey.” He set his hand on the door frame. “You okay?” His voice was kind, caring, concerned. She wondered for a moment if he was a Daddy. It was possible. After all, she’d seen him at Blaze, and he didn’t put off a vibe that he was some kind of sadist or other type of Dom.
Shaking those thoughts from her mind, she nodded as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure. Yeah.” No.
He smiled. “Is the front door unlocked?”
“Yes. I ran out fast. I didn’t take the time to replace the lockbox.”
“Okay. Stay in your car. I’ll be back.” He hesitated a moment, meeting her gaze before turning toward the house.
Lark watched as he opened the front door. He immediately turned on every light. The porch light was already on, but the living room lit up. She chewed on her lip while she watched as every other window of the house lit up one by one, upstairs and down.
Wyatt was gone for a long time. Seemed like forever anyway. Probably was only minutes. Finally, he stepped back outside.
Lark gasped when she saw that he was carrying a cat in his arms. Had a cat caused all this commotion? How had the little guy gotten into the empty house?
“Found your culprit,” Wyatt announced as he returned to her window. “Stowaway.” He was stroking the calico’s back, and the cat was purring, neck extended to ensure Wyatt gave her more attention.
Suddenly, a boy who looked to be about twelve jogged up to Wyatt under the street light. He was breathing heavily. “You found Pebbles,” he exclaimed, reaching for the cat.
“Is this your cat?” Wyatt asked.
“Yes. I was so worried. She didn’t come home last night. I was afraid she’d strayed too far from the house and maybe been hit by a car.” He pulled the cat into his arms and snuggled her tight, running his nose along her neck. “Pebbles, I’m so glad to see you.” The boy lifted his gaze to Wyatt’s. “Where did you find her?”
Wyatt pointed at the vacant home. “She was inside this empty house.”
“Ah. I should have thought of that. I live next door.” He pointed at the house to the right. “The previous owners loved her. She came and went from there all the time.”
Lark finally opened her car door and stepped outside. “She must have snuck in when another realtor was showing the house yesterday.”
“Thank you so much for finding her,” the boy said as he turned to head for his home.
Wyatt reached for Lark’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Come on inside. I’ll show you what made the loud noises.”
“I feel so silly calling you over a cat,” Lark stated as she let Wyatt lead her back to the house.
“Don’t feel silly. Never. When something makes you uneasy, always call. Either me or the police department if you can’t reach me. Always better to be safe than sorry. No call is too silly.” He paused inside the door and faced her, setting his hands on both shoulders now. “Promise me.”
She nodded, unable to speak now that he was standing so close to her, his gaze penetrating hers. He was intense and had a commanding presence, but in a kind, concerned way. Not because he thought she was some stupid little girl who was wasting his time.
“Lark…” he warned, his voice demanding she reaffirm his command.
“I will. I’ll call if I get scared.”
“Good girl.” He let one hand slide down to clasp hers, gave her fingers a squeeze, and then nodded over his shoulder. If she wasn’t mistaken, he actually cared about her. Well, no silly. Of course not. He cares about all people. He’s a cop. It’s his job.
As she followed him, she was no longer focused on the cat. She was thinking about only two things: the fact that he was still holding her hand and the fact that twice now he’d called her a good girl.
She’d heard Garrett call Ellie his good girl many times. She’d also heard Tarson call Daisy a good girl. She knew the term of endearment was part of their particular type of fetish—age play. Maybe Wyatt was a Daddy.
Garrett—the owner of the strip mall where Ellie owned Little Cakes and Daisy owned Blooms by Daisy—was certainly a Daddy. So was Tarson. Ellie and Daisy called him by the nickname Bear. He was a baker for Ellie, and he also worked at Blaze, though Lark wasn’t sure what he did there. Those leather whips reappeared in her mind. This time her shiver wasn’t from fright.
“You okay?” Wyatt hesitated at the feel of her tremor.
“I’m good. Show me what you found.”
Wyatt led Lark into the laundry room off the kitchen. He pointed at a board that poked out slightly between the two appliances. “I suspect this shelf was sitting loosely on the brackets above the washer and dryer. Since nothing was on it, as soon as Pebbles crawled to one end, it tipped and crashed onto the washer. I bet Pebbles lost a few of her nine lives. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her meow in fear—especially when it slid off the washer to drop to the floor a few seconds later.”