Familiar faces were fine. Familiar faces weregood. Not as exciting as new faces, but fulfilling, nonetheless.
There were bodies in the building, and that was all that mattered.
I left Linc to his goblet gathering. Somehow, he still hadn’t completed the task yet, though there were so few to collect.
“Hey there! What can I get you?” I asked brightly, slipping behind the bar to serve the shifters.
They smelled woodsy, like ash and tree bark and something distinctlywolf. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but it wasn’t my favorite smell, either.
“Got any of those ciders?” one of the men asked, a broad-shouldered folk with white hair and a chipped front tooth. He didn’t meet my eyes, instead keeping his gaze on the bar counter.
“Sure do,” I responded. “How do you feel about spiced pumpkin?”
He grimaced. “Not that one. Had too much of it lately.”
“How does cherry blossom sound? I think we’ve got some of that barrel left.”
“If it’s not pumpkin, I’ll take it. I’ve had enough pumpkin to last me ages.”
“Well, you could have stopped ordering it any time,” I reminded. “I’ve got other options.”
His face warmed. “I didn’t want to stop ordering it.”
I snorted out a laugh. “That’s exactly what I thought. And you gentlefolk?” I asked, looking at the others.
“Cherry blossom sounds great, Ginger. Thanks.”
“Make that three.”
“Yep. Me, too!”
“Four cherry blossom ciders it is, then. I’ll grab those.” I drifted to the other end of the bar where the cider barrels rested. Luckily, the cherry blossom barrel was still half full—there was plenty to go around.
Kizzi liked the spiced pumpkin cider more than the other folk in town, but I wouldn’t dare say that to Tandor’s face. He thought it was his best creation, and his lady loved it, so I had no business ruining their happiness.
Itwasespecially delicious.
I thought all of Tandor’s ciders were scrumptious. I wouldn’t say that to his face too often, though. His ego didn’t need any more boosting.
I turned the nozzle, letting the pink liquid stream into the goblets in a steady flow. One after the other. I filled them to the very brim, leaving no room for error.
It was another game I liked to play with myself, especially recently: how full could I fill a goblet before it threatenedto spill?
I was very good at it.
As I turned to place the first two goblets in front of the shifter men, a shiver shot down my spine. The goblets slipped from my grasp, clattering to the table and sloshing precious liquid over the edges.
I grumbled under my breath. “Old Gods! You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I glanced up to apologize, but instead of wolves, my gaze snagged onto something else entirely.
Shining gold eyes peered at me from the far corner.
“Did you slip?” the wolf shifter asked, scooting his stool back to dodge any drips that might fall onto his lap.
I tore my gaze away. I pulled a dry towel from my apron, dabbing at the mess. “Yes. Something like that. I’m so sorry.”
“This round is on you?” one of the shifters asked, mirth heavy in his tone.
