I nearly choked. Papa grinned wide, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Thanks, Pearl. We’re happy.”
The first ten minutes were a parade of shifters who stopped by the booth to say hi, slap Papa on the back, or, if they were female, give me the up-and-down and then a thumbs-up. Most just said, “Congrats” or “I’m so happy Big Papa finally found a wonderful girl,” but a few asked real questions. Was it true I baked everything from scratch? Did I ever take custom cake orders? Was I really about to offer sandwich bread, or was that just a rumor?
Oscar wanted to field the questions, but I had to remind him that many of the people here were human and would freak out at a talking prairie dog.
The only one who didn’t come over was Arsenal, who sat at the bar with his back to the room and a single whiskey in front of him.
Halfway through dinner, Gunner appeared, cowboy hat and all. He scooted in next to Papa and stuck his hand out for a shake. “Well, well, Big Papa, looks like you hit the jackpot.”
Papa took the handshake, then flicked his eyes toward me. “I think I did.”
Gunner turned his full attention to me, brown eyes sharp and kind. “You got some magic in you, don’t you?”
I smiled, shy. “Just enough to cause trouble.”
He laughed, loud and genuine. “That’s all any of us ever need. If you ever want to trade secrets, I make a mean campfire chili, and I hear you got a scone that can stop a wolf dead in his tracks.”
“I’d love that,” I said, and meant it.
He tipped his hat, polished off Papa’s water in a single gulp, and vanished back into the throng.
“Does he do that to everyone?” I asked.
Papa grinned. “Only the ones he likes.”
Our food came hot and heavy and everything I needed after a day of baking. The gravy on the chicken fried steak was so rich I could’ve eaten it with a spoon. The meatloaf was tender, the sauce tangy and a little sweet. I took a bite and moaned, then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth in embarrassment.
He leaned in, voice low. “You keep making those sounds, Sunshine, and I’ll have to carry you home before dessert.”
Oscar covered his face with his paws. “Have you no shame, Miss?”
I grinned at them both, and for a moment, everything felt so normal I forgot I was being hunted by at least two different supernatural species.
Then Arsenal showed up at our booth.
He stood there for a second, eyes flicking from me to Papa and back. He looked tired, older than the last time I’d seen him, and his voice was even rougher than usual.
“Big Papa,” he said. “Alpha wants you to call in tonight. Some security updates.”
JT nodded, all business. “Will do. You sticking around for the music?”
Arsenal shook his head. “Got patrol. But I wanted to see for myself if the rumors were true.”
He looked at me, then at the hint of the bite mark on Papa’s neck.
I met his gaze, trying to look brave. “It’s real,” I said, my voice small.
He didn’t smile. “Hope you’re ready.”
I swallowed hard. “As I’ll ever be.”
Arsenal gave a curt nod, then turned and walked away, boots silent on the old tile floor.
When he was gone, I let out a deep sigh.
Papa squeezed my knee. “Don’t mind him. Arsenal trusts no one. Not even himself.”
Oscar bristled, his voice prim. “The man is an oaf. He would not recognize a true mate bond if it bit him in the arse.”
