Howl of a Human

I

Forward. Fold. Rotate. Press. Forward. Fold. Rotate. Press. Forward. Fold. Rotate. Press. Just like Grandma showed me.

I wish she was here right now.

Grandma Black had moved to Colorado last year to live with her sister on their family ranch after Grandpa died. Papa and I stayed behind and took over the bakery. Making bread is hard, I'm better at cakes and truffles.

The faint sound of people arguing across the street came to my ears and I glanced up for barely a second to notice two dark haired guys arguing before I returned to my kneading and began humming the song Grandma used to sing to me.

Ah, Mon beau château... Ah, mon beau château... Ma tant'tire lire, lire... Ah, mon beau château... Ma tant' tire lire lo...

The bell over the door went off but I couldn't get myself to break my concentration just yet. After a second, when I'd decided that the bread was good enough, I looked up at possibly the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on.

He was tall, almost half a foot taller than me by the looks of it, with light skin on the verge of being considered tan. His eyes were almost as black as the short hair on top of his head. He had a harshly roman nose that only added to the stern beauty of him and a strong jawline that looked recently shaved and smooth. His thick lashes were framing his eyes as they widened to the size of quarters.

"Is there anything I can help you with," I asked, maintaining a nonchalant air.

"Vous parlez Français?"

"Oui."

He speaks French, I thought as he came up to the counter.

"Vous êtes belle."

My cheeks set on fire when he said that. He thinks I'm beautiful? When I regained the courage to look up he was smirking at my state.

"Comment vous appelez-vous?"

"Je m'appelle Lacey.

"Do you have a name? Or should I just call you French Boy," I let out a giggle at my little crack. Of course it was a stupid thing to do because I can't laugh with out that stupid snort making its way out my lips. Really?! Of all times my body found it neccesary to make that sound now?

My hands flew up to my mouth but it was too late, the flour from the dough coated my lips and he moved his hand to remove it. My heart stopped at his touch. Stupid, hot boy!

"That can't taste too good, the flour," he took on a sheepish air as he added," And you can call me what ever you want, but my friends call me Mike."

"Nice to meet you Mike."

"Nice to meet you, too, Lacey."

Our eyes locked for a minute or two and I got the chance to study those black eyes. Not black, persay, just dark, dark blue. Then he leaned in to kiss me.

His lips were so soft and gentle against my own, I tried to move away and push him off me. This seems wrong. I just met him! He came into my family's bakery and kisses me? Then I lost the need to move away. This is my first kiss since Daniel. When he pulled away I kept my eyes closed to remember the feel of this boy.

"Mate."

I opened my eyes when he said that. Mate? Mike seemed to be having an internal battle because he was staring at the floor and stopped talking.

Two people came into the shop, the boy who was arguing with him earlier and an older woman. The woman squealed and the boy just stood there looking cheeky. Mike growled- yes, growled- and stormed out of the shop, the boy followed him.