Page 12 of Hot Girls Date Shifters

Which, admittedly, makes three halves.

Whatever.

Women seem to love it.

My sister bought enough candles there to apparently ward off “negative energy.”

I told her opening her electric bill would accomplish the same thing.

She didn't laugh.

Cindy, Sharon, and Stephanie are somehow still trailing behind me, chatting like we're old friends instead of women who made my adolescence miserable.

When they notice where I'm looking, all three glance toward the storefront.

The expressions on their faces sour immediately.

Interesting.

One of them mutters loudly enough for me to hear.

“That place will be closed in a week.”

Another wrinkles her perfectly sculpted nose.

“Yeah, and that fat barista is going to regret not waiting on us.”

Something inside me snaps.

My Bear lets out a low, dangerous growl.

Not loud enough for the women to hear.

Just enough for me.

Easy.

I look toward the front window.

And I see a woman.

Blonde.

Curvy.

Human.

She has her back to the window as she flips the sign to CLOSED, completely absorbed in wiping down the counters.

The late evening sun catches in her long, wavy hair, making it glow like spun gold.

She's humming—actually humming to herself.

I can hear it through the glass. Off-key and completely endearing.

Damn.

Who does that anymore?