Chapter Nineteen
Frank took his seat at the long table in Bob’s restaurant while the moms seated their rabble in booster seats and high chairs. His mate smiled and squeezed his hand. She was so beautiful. Over the four years, he had suppressed how much he missed her, or his cat would’ve gone psycho not having its mate. The animal was crazy enough as it was. I heard that.
He’d worried how she’d react to discovering he was pretty much an alien as far as she was concerned. But she took it well. Like she already knew. Her smell wasn’t overwhelming fear, but relief, and dare he say, happiness.
Or maybe she hadn’t really accepted the idea since he hadn’t fully shifted in front of her. Like telling someone about being in a car crash is nothing like actually being in one. She seemed fine, wasn’t running away, and that was all that really mattered right now.
A couple of young waitresses came over and took drink orders. The children were all still in play mode with wriggling bodies and rather loud screaming. Did all girls shriek like that? He could maybe handle a boy. The girls scared him.
Amie opened the worn menu. He already knew what he wanted. “Oh my god,” Amie said.
“What? What’s wrong, love?” Frank was in protection mode red. Lots of stuff going on within his confined space.
Amie replied, “Nothing is wrong. Just the menu has eggs and toast and pancakes. Dorothy’s menu was a choice of meat, meat, or steak.”
The women laughed. Cheryl said, “That’s one thing about shifters. They love their meat.”
“That answers one question I’ve always had,” Amie said. He didn’t like the sound of that. If she had questions, why didn’t she ask him? Duh, his cat said. Like you would’ve answered honestly back then? Dumbass. Shut it, feline. One more dumbass comment and we’ll see who doesn’t get to scratch their dumb ass for a long time.
“Hey, Franky.” A big guy wearing a greasy white apron lumbered around the busy tables toward them. “I heard you were in town visitin’ for a bit. And this must be your lovely mate.” Bob held his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Bob, owner-operator of this fine dining establishment.”
Amie smiled. “I’m Amie. Glad to meet you, too.”
“Whatcha been doin’ while in town?” he asked. “Not a lot going on in the past thirty years or so. I sure miss the summer picnics the town used to have. I always won the best potato salad contest. Not that anyone ever orders it.” He sighed. Bob hadn’t changed much over the years. Still talked up a storm. Frank thought that might’ve been a problem between his ex-wife, Dorothy, and him. She never got a word in edgewise.
Frank took the second Bob needed to breathe to talk. “We haven’t done much. Stayed close to the house. We were in the park a bit and met up with everyone here.” He gestured toward the rest of the table.
Bob laughed. “Franky, boy, you were always the one to catch the ladies’ eyes. I, on the other hand, couldn’t catch the two eyes my mate had. That woman just took my best waitress the other day. Burns my tail, I’ll tell ya.” He leaned closer to Frank and Amie. “Just between us, I’m gettin’ kinda tired of the continuous battle over prices and customers. Breakfast and lunch are great, but dinner is mostly nonexistent.”
Frank remembered having this conversation last night with the waitress at the other restaurant. He wondered if Amie would give him the same advice she gave Dorothy.
“You know, Bob,” Amie said, “if you and Dorothy shared one eating place, you controlling the breakfast and lunch, then Dorothy taking care of dinnertime, I’d bet you’d both make out a lot better.”
“Me? In the same room as that woman?” He looked away sheepishly. Even though his words said one thing, his smell said something else. All shifters knew it was impossible to ignore your mate. Nature put them together for a reason: They were perfect for each other. “Well, gotta get back to the kitchen.” Bob slapped Frank on the back. “Nice meeting you, Amie.” He gave her a wave and disappeared behind the swinging door to the back.
The waitress had returned and was taking food orders. Frank ordered his steak and his mate ordered a tall stack of pancakes and potato salad. The server looked over her writing pad at Amie then shrugged a shoulder. “You got it.”
A lady came up to their table. He recognized her from the party at his mom’s house yesterday afternoon. She and Amie whispered together, and with the kids making so much noise, he couldn’t pick up enough words to makes sense of the conversation, so he stopped trying. They were probably talking shoes and clothes anyway.
Then his memory latched on to their time in the fitting room earlier that morning. Fuck. He was getting hard and it hadn’t even gone completely through his mind yet. He adjusted his sitting position and glanced down the table to see each woman staring at him with a you’re busted grin. Oh shit. He was so busted. Damn shifter noses.
After the lady left, another came to the table and the ladies all leaned together again, whispering. Now he was really curious what they were talking about. A few of the ladies had blushed and giggled.
Sherri, who used to cut his hair when he was a kid, walked in. Amie waved her over and she pulled a chair up and everyone scooted to fit her in. Thankfully the food came out and several servers placed plates and baskets of fried something or the other in front of the kids. The table went instantly quiet. Ah, the power of food.
Amie leaned toward him. “Who is that guy over there?” She nodded toward a good-looking guy, impeccably dressed, sitting at a table by himself.
“Never seen him before. Ask the ladies.” Amie leaned to the other side and asked.
“He’s new. His name is Jeffry,” Scarlet said. “Moved here a month or so ago. He lost his male partner recently. That’s what I’ve been told, but I haven’t met him yet. He keeps to himself and doesn’t come out much.”
Amie nodded and went back to her pancakes, which she seemed to be overly enjoying. He could make pancakes. Maybe. Just add water to Bisquick and flip, right?
Toward the end of the meal, the kids started getting restless. Must be naptime soon. A lady he didn’t recognize came to their table to say hi to Amie and thanked her for the party. Then they went into private whisper-mode again.
Amie sat back in her chair. “What is wrong with you people? Didn’t you learn all that before . . . you know?” She waved a hand in the air.
“Not really,” Susan answered, looking around the room. “Shifters don’t date much because their animal doesn’t want to waste time on anyone but their true mates. So until they meet, it’s pretty much nothing.”
Amie slapped a hand over her eyes. “God help the horny teens around here.” She leaned forward over the table. “Here’s what we gonna do. We need a place to hold another class.” The ladies squealed and bunched together.
“We can use my place,” Cheryl offered.
“Great. Sherri, send out another text to all the ladies inviting them. Tell them not to worry about lunch this time. I’ve got that handled. Oh, and tell them to bring any toys, which by the sound of it, many won’t have. See y’all shortly.”
The ladies scattered and Frank wasn’t sure what was going on. “Obviously, you’re having another party, but you said you didn’t have any clothes to give away.”
She kissed him solidly. “What we’re learning today doesn’t require clothing. In fact, the less clothing, the better this is.”
Amie got up and sat down at the table with the new gay shifter and shook his hand. Her last statement about the less clothing bothered him. He had a bad feeling about all this.
After a few minutes, the guy got up and hugged Amie then hurried out the door, not giving his cat the time to get jealous. But if he ever touched his mate again . . . Dumbass, his cat said.