Look Before You Bake by Cassie Wright Read Free Book Online

crushed pecans to give it some spine, and the finest treacle to give it some kick."
    My mouth is salivating. This is proving to be an even better decision than I thought. "May I?"
    "Please!" She smiles as I delicately pry a bun free of the plate, the treacle holding it fast, and take a large bite. My chewing slows down and I groan. It's amazing. Chewy and soft and sweet but not so much as to be cloying. The treacle is amazing. My bear rumbles, covers its eyes with both paws, and rolls over onto its back in delight. Anita is watching me anxiously. "Good?"
    I try to speak, but I can't stop chewing. Instead I slowly shake my head from one side to the other, frowning. "Mmm," I manage. "Mmmhmm."
    "I take it 'Mmmhmm' mean you like it?" Anita's smile is resurfacing.
    I swallow mightily, and restrain the urge to take another enormous bite. Lick my lips, and look down at her with all kinds of hunger in my eyes. "It means this should be illegal."
    Anita grins, grabs her bun, dumps the paper plate in the trash can outside the general store, and hoists her pack on her shoulders. I eye it uncertainly. It's almost as big as she is. "What've you got in there?"
    She glances over her shoulder. "Tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, a few cooking things, food of course, water, a cookbook, some lighter bricks, matches, cutlery, a table cloth – just a small one, a tarp in case it rains, my rain jacket –"
    My eyebrows keep going up and up. "Looks like you're ready for a hike."
    She nods seriously. "You've no idea. And you? Where's your stuff?"
    "My stuff? Why – right here." I swivel at the hips to show her my leather pack. It's a quarter the size of hers. Maybe a tenth.
    "And – your tent? Your hiking stuff?"
    I smile. "I make do."
    "You don't have a tent?" She looks up at me with big eyes.
    "I... well. I don't mind the rain?" It's hard to explain these things to humans. I can see more questions bubbling up, so I pat her pack and nod down the road. "Let's get going. We've a good distance to cover before we reach the Devil's Knucklebone."
    She falls in gamely next to me as we walk north, past the bridges and toward the edge of town. I take another bite of my bun. My bear kicks its rear legs in the air. I don't want this bun to ever end. Luckily it's large, but even so, I've only got a few bites left. It's going to take all my will to slow myself down.
    "Devil's Knucklebone?" Anita adjusts her black-rimmed glasses. I'm glad she's wearing them. They give her this sexy librarian look. I love libraries more than just about anything, and Anita looks just like a librarian out of my fantasies. I fight back a rumble of approval. We're not courting. I'm not looking for a mate. This is a serious hike. I've got things to learn about her. I will not think about what her hair looks like out of that bun, hanging down the sides of her face. Will not think about just how perfectly her full breasts will fit into my hands. The color of her nipples. The smell of her arousal. The things my bear wants to do to her, the things that will turn that tentative smile into a cry of pleasure.
    Anita's still waiting for an answer. Luckily I've been chewing, so she doesn't realize where my mind's been wandering. I nod. "Devil's Knucklebone. It's a notch in one of the peaks. Good view. But protected from the wind."
    "Oh," says Anita. "That sounds lovely."
    We leave Honeycomb Falls behind, and I find the trail entrance easily enough. We're setting out a little later than I like, but the weather is cool, and autumn is a fine time for hiking. Not so late in the season that I'm feeling lethargic, but neither is it spring, when I'm burning with fire and energy. Anita walks behind me on the narrow trail, and I make a point of going slow, giving her time to adjust to the weight on her shoulders, the uneven trail.
    As always, I begin to fall into an easygoing trance, my feet placing themselves on the trail where they need to go, my thoughts turning fluid, my mind wandering. The forest