Page 7 of Jacked-up Mate
It was hard to get my head in the game tonight, though. An image of the man who my wolf was sure was our mate, lingeredin my head. His eyes meeting mine in complete understanding before he raced away. Was I really that repulsive?
I flipped burgers and handled the fryer, coming close to burning myself a couple of times because my mind was not where it should be. Jeb’s training had emphasized how dangerous a kitchen could be when the cook did not completely focus on the tasks at hand. A searingly hot griddle, vats of hot oil, sharp knives…a recipe for disaster. But how could I stop thinking about him?
Coming up with plans to get him to at least speak with me. Get to know me and see that Fate knew what she was doing. More than willing to take things one step at a time, but how could I just shrug away an encounter with the one person who could fulfill me?
The diner was unusually empty tonight, but that was to be expected when almost everyone in town plus a lot of visitors would be snacking at the festival.
The next order was for one of our triple patty specials topped with a sunny-side-up egg and chimichurri sauce. I’d struggled with it at first, since it required an unbroken liquid yolk, but once I got it down, I took a lot of pride in the process. When the diner bit into it, the golden yolk would coat the inside of the bun, so yummy and worth the effort to make it happen.
“Foster?” Chris poked his head into the pass-through. “Can I ask a favor of you?”
“Anything.” Hopefully something that would occupy my mind and keep me from dropping my spatula and abandoning the kitchen to go hunt for the alpha who clearly wasn’t interested in me. Maybe I’d do that tomorrow provided he was someone who lived in town and I had the day off.
“Tomorrow, we are short a server. I know it’s your day off, but if you could give us at least a few hours, I’d appreciate it.”
Chris was the reason I had the life I did. Working hard, most days, but in a position I’d found surprisingly enjoyable. He even encouraged me to develop my own dishes and was more than willing to put them on the menu once I’d perfected them. My deep-fried brownie sundae was a popular treat among the late-night post-bar crowd.
“Chris, I’ve never waited tables here or anywhere before. Are you sure there isn’t someone who can do a better job?”
“Nobody who is available. You know the menu and have eaten in restaurants often enough. I think you can manage.”
“Okay, boss. If you say so. I’ll give it my best shot.”
Chris went back to meeting and greeting, which he often enjoyed doing, and I returned to making burgers and some of the breakfast foods that customers could order any time of the day or night. As the hours passed, pancakes grew more popular. I theorized that the customers believed they soaked up some of the alcohol they’d consumed, but I still did my best to make them beautiful with crispy edges and pillowy middles.
Every few minutes, I peeked out the pass-through with some vague hope that my mate would show up for a snack and I could try again to meet him. But the evening passed without a sign of those beautiful eyes, and finally, as we finished cleaning the kitchen and shut the lights off, I had to admit he wasn’t coming in.
Please let him live in town.If I’d just missed my one chance for a happy life with my fated mate, I didn’t know what I’d do.
Leaving the diner, I went out of my way to pass Autumn Square, but the booths were closed down and there was nobody around. So, I trudged home in a blue funk. Trying to tell myself tomorrow was another chance, and I wouldn’t be working the whole day, I grabbed a quart of vanilla fudge ripple from the freezer and took it with me into the bathtub where I consumed the whole thing.
It didn’t help much.
But I had a plan. Waiting tables would give me the opportunity to chat with people, and maybe someone could tell me my mate’s name and where to find him. If not, as soon as I got off work, I’d go look for him. I’d taken the high road tonight, not chasing him when he ran, but if we didn’t at least speak to one another, I’d never forgive myself.
Chapter Seven
Jack
The first thing on my mind as my human eyes opened was the man I’d seen the night before. Every detail I could recall about him fueled my thoughts.
I got out of bed and decided to do something about it. Overthinking never did any good.
While I watched the fresh coffee bubble in the top of the percolator, I called Leon. Asked about the man.
He had an answer. Even if he hadn’t, someone would. Whisper Grove was a small town, and the gossip whipped between people like the wind. If I choked on a cookie while walking down Crow’s Nest Lane in the morning, I would get a call an hour later from the town healer asking if he needed to carve out an appointment for me. If you wanted to keep a secret in this town, you had to work at it.
The man’s name was Foster, and he’d taken a job at the Bubbling Cauldron diner.
My chores were done in a rush that morning. I sprinted from one task to another. Why I was so damned eager to meet this man was beyond me. He was gorgeous and his smile made me melt, but I had to find out why he ruled my thoughts after a brief encounter.
I arrived at the diner and while I intended to sneak in and observe from a booth in the corner, the witch’s bells around the doorknob gave me away. Several patrons turned their heads and some townspeople waved. I took a seat and picked up the menu even though I knew the offerings by heart.
“Welcome to the Bubbling Cauldron. Can I start you off with a drink?”
The voice made my heart beat so powerfully in my chest that I looked down to make sure it was still contained under my ribs. My body hummed as he spoke again but this time, I had no clue what he was saying.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, feeling foolish.
