Read Look Before You Bake for Free Online Page B

let her do all the heavy lifting. But then that cold, hard new voice speaks up. You need to do this. You need to convince the werebear. You need to be responsible.
    "No, thank you." My voice shakes, but I make myself sit up straight. "I'll do this. I'll convince the werebear. I'll get Whitman to sign on. Then I'll work my ass off and pay Harold off in no time. I'll make this work."
    Rachel nods and takes my hand. "I know you will. Oh, Anita. You're being so brave."
    "No, I'm not." I feel anything but brave.
    "Yes," says Hui. "You are. It's a fact."
    "A fact?" I look up at Hui, who nods gravely. "Well, in that case, OK. Maybe I am."
    Rachel smiles sadly. "I'll be your best customer. I'll order ten of everything you make."
    I laugh, but the pain and hope and sadness make it a bitter sound. My dreams of a bakery have been completely hijacked. My hopes for a fresh start are ruined. But I'm getting my father back. And I finally understand him. Understand why he did what he did. And I will save him. I will not let Harold harm him. I stand up. "I'm going to get packed. I'm meeting Arthur first thing in the morning. I have to be ready."
    Rachel and Hui stand and nod. "Let us know if there's anything we can do."
    I look at them both, and fight the urge to cry all over again. I feel so lucky. "You've both done so much already. I can't thank you enough."
    Hui pats me on the shoulder. "No thanks necessary."
    Rachel nods, and I see tears in her eyes too. "You'll never have to thank me. The way you stood by my side when the Blood Moon pack came calling? I'm the one who's in your debt."
    I go to protest, but they both envelop me in a hug. We stand there, arms around each other, holding tight. My friends. With them at my back, I know I can do this. I close my eyes tight. Nothing will stop me. Nothing.
     

Chapter 5
     
     
     
    My bear is ready to head back into the mountains. Ready for the verdant slopes, the fresh, crisp air, the echoing silence between the peaks that's broken only by the eagle's cry. I stand before the general store, thumbs looped in my belt, ready to go and watching the cars pass. Listening to them rumble over the truss bridge's wooden planks. Honeycomb Falls is a good town. It's still got heart, still got its own sense of identity. The folks here will look you in the eye as you pass them, the men giving you a nod, the women a shy smile. I come down here often enough that I'm not a complete stranger, but not so much that they know my name. It's how I like it.
    I shift my pack over my shoulder. It's always empty when I come into town, and filled to bursting when I leave. The bottom has a good dozen books from the library. The middle is filled with coffee beans. The top with new tubes of oil paint, fresh canvas, and other art supplies. The basics. What I always get. The only things the wild doesn't provide.
    I smell Anita before I see her. Or, more accurately, I smell sugar-glazed treacle buns, and turning, I see her walking toward me, that shy smile on her lips. The same smile that near drove me crazy the day before. It's a hesitant smile that doesn't quite trust itself. A smile that just asks to be returned, so I do so, though I don't often smile. Her own lights up, and she stops before me, a hiking backpack looming over her head, a paper plate held in both hands.
    "Morning," I say. I don't know which is more delicious: this little lady, or the smell of the treacle buns. My bear rumbles. Suddenly it's not in such a hurry to be quit of human society.
    "Hi!" I can smell her nervousness. She looks tired but awake, as if she hasn't slept at all but has drunk enough coffee to see her through. "I baked us a little something to see us off."
    "So I smell." I fight the urge to pull the paper napkin aside. "I mean, see. What you got there?"
    "Ta da!" Anita pulls the paper off, revealing two large treacle buns, curled in on themselves like snail shells. "I'm calling them Hiker's Delight. Whole wheat flour to give it some heart,