Page 26 of The Tracker's Dawn: Sunderverse
Not without a fight.
CHAPTER 10
Ilured everyone tothe kitchen with tacos for lunch.
After checking Eric’s bachelor pad refrigerator and pantry, I had to call for a pack-sized grocery delivery and started cooking as soon as it arrived.
Now, we were all seated around the table. Even Damien, who proclaimed his favorite was French cuisine, was there on time, though it was possible he’d come to feast his eyes on Rosalina instead of his stomach on tacos. Unlike Jake, Damien hadn’t spent the night. He had gone home and returned in a freshly dry-cleaned suit and cloak.
Eric sat at the head of the table, followed to his right by Damien and Jake, and to his left Rosalina and me.
“It looks really good, Toni,” Jake said, eyeing the food that sat in the middle of the table.
“Sure does,” Eric agreed.
“I learned from the best.” I gave Rosalina a sidelong glance. Though her roots were Cuban, she also cooked mean Mexican fare and taught me how to do the same.
I’d made both beef and chicken to accompany either corn or flour tortillas. I preferred the former but to each their own. To garnish the tacos, I’d cut up onions, tomatoes, cilantro, cabbage, and lettuce. I’d also made green and red salsa, and crumbled Cotija cheese and grated cheddar cheese. Everyone could put together their own traditional tacos, or they could pile whatever they wanted on top. I liked combining different flavors, and always ate more than my fill. Anticipating that Jake and Eric would also eat their weight in food, I prepared enough food for fifty Stales. Still, I was worried it might not be enough.
We all dug in, passing the different condiments around and enjoying a companionable silence.
“I didn’t know you could cook, Sunder,” Eric said, licking his fingers after his third monster taco.
“I only know how to make a few things, but I think I’ve perfected them.”
Jake took a swig of his cold beer. “You certainly have.”
“That’s a compliment coming from you,” I said. “Jake isn’t a bad cook himself.”
Eons ago, when we used to share an apartment, he did most of the cooking. His specialty was chili. He made a killer pot, spicy and rich.
Damien watched Eric scarf down a fourth taco while he was still working on his first. “I’ll never figure out where you werewolves put all that food.” He daintily took a bite of his taco with a fork. He’d been cutting small pieces with a knife, while Rosalina and I exchanged glances and snickered.
The two of them had been stealing glances at each other, and I could practically feel a current of electricity traveling between them. Before Damiendied, their budding relationship had been getting back on track after we called the police on him. Understandably, he got furious at us for doing that, but he eventually came around, and it had seemed as if they were going to pick things back up where they left off. Then Mekare attacked him, we thought he died, and when he returned, he had four legs and fur all over his body. Maybe now that he was human once more, they would be able to make up for lost time.
When Jake, Eric, and I finally started slowing down on our seventh or eighth taco, I cleaned my hands on a paper napkin and explained why I’d brought them together.
