“This looks great, thanks.” Ben stared at his fries like they were a starving man’s last meal, his fingertips pressed into the table top on either side of the mound of potatoes.
“Thank you,” Jame added, having already cut a chunk from the steak and stuffed it into his mouth.
I gave her a smile. “This is perfect. Say, Piper. When do you get off tonight?”
A little color hit her cheeks, but I couldn’t tell if she was surprised by my question or just overheated from the job. “I’m done at eleven-thirty. Pretty late, unless you’re pulling graveyard shift?”
“No. But if I’m around by then, let’s talk.”
She held very still, studying me like I was a language she couldn’t read. “Sure,” she finally said with a false smile. “Let’s talk. Need steak sauce?”
“No thanks,” Jame said around another bite.
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” She hurried off to the next table.
No, I’m not really the one in the family who gets vibes. But something about her willingness to talk with me had the tin can rattle of fate.
One thing for sure, I was going to ask her exactly what abilities she had. I didn’t want a repeat of suddenly finding out we had a shape-shifting mimic in town.
Talk about an awkward race for mayor.
“Why are you freaked out over Piper?” Jame asked as he stabbed steak, potato chunk, steak onto his fork shish kabob style.
“I’m not freaked.”
He paused with the food halfway to his mouth, gave me a look. “She worries you.” Statement. Long stare.
“Nice alpha glare. But that doesn’t work on me.”
He grinned and just like that was back in motion again. “Something about her,” he said with his mouthful.
“Something,” I agreed. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
Ben was currently sucking on a French fry with the kind of ardor not usually allowed in a family restaurant. “She’s not human.”
“What?” He hadn’t exactly mumbled around the fry, but I wanted to make sure I’d heard him right. Because other than the apparent ability to see into the future of menu orders, she seemed very human to me.
He must have gotten his fill of sucking out the oil and salt. He licked up the length of it one last time then gleefully bit the fry into tiny pieces as he pushed it tip-to-end between his teeth. “She isn’t human.” He shook Worcestershire sauce into his tomato juice, dipped a new fry into the juice and started with the sucking again.
“What is she?”
He paused. Exchanged a look with Jame.
Jame straightened from being bent over his plate, sat back, and took a long drink of lemonade, watching me over the rim. Okay, maybe the alpha thing was a little unsettling.
“We thought you’d know.” He placed his lemonade exactly back on top of the ring of condensation it had left on the table.
“Why?”
“She smells like a god.”
“You’re kidding me.”
That look was definitely not kidding.
“Gods smell?”
This time he gave me a slow blink. Yeah, okay. That was a dumb question. Every kind of thing probably had a specific smell to a werewolf.
