Chapter Fourteen
Carver
She never did say which color roses she preferred or even if roses were something she liked, but as we walked away from the motel, she thanked us and told us what she’d done with them.
“I hope it’s all right that I shared your gifts with the other residents.
You were so generous, and they will do so much to brighten all their rooms.”
“Did you keep any for yourself?” Diesel asked, strolling along on her right.
“I hope so. I did say all their bedrooms…” She chewed on her lower lip. “I hope so.”
“Don’t worry.” I patted her left arm. “If not, there are more where those came from. We should have remembered all the others. I bet nobody is bringing them anything pretty.”
“No.” She offered me a small smile. “But thanks to you and Thea, they have a warm bed, good food, and clothes. Also, opportunities to make their own way going forward. I think that matters more to them than anything like flowers or candy.”
“Did you want candy?” Aries asked. “Because we can—”
“No. It’s not necessary,” she protested. “I just meant…well, you know what I meant.”
“We do.” And I was so proud of our mate, putting everyone else first, without even thinking of herself. “It means you are kind.”
We walked a couple of blocks and turned the corner.
The restaurant, an intimate French bistro owned by some friends of ours, was close enough not to drive.
We sometimes went there for a snack before the club opened, and we’d given them a heads-up about bringing our mate tonight.
Also, that we hadn’t officially mated her or even discussed the matter yet.
“Before we get to the restaurant, I wanted to say—”
“Too late.” Diesel guided her inside Andre’s Bistro. “We’re here.”
“Oh, but—”
“My friends, you are here and you have brought your new ma-friend.” Andre’s mate swept from the back, eyes sparkling in delight.
She winked at us, which didn’t exactly help to correct her gaffe.
But nobody could stay mad at the lithe restauranteur.
She’d been a dancer in her youth and left it all behind to join Andre in moving to America and opening the restaurant.
Together, the two fox shifters were perfect at their jobs.
Him in the kitchen and her managing the front of the house.
“I am Pierrette,” she said, taking Josie’s hands in hers.
“And you are lovely.” She looked her up and down and gave a nod. “I highly approve. Come with me.”
If Josie had any reason to argue, she had no chance. Our hostess swept her to the back patio and to a table screened by tall potted trees from the rest. Subtle. “I trust this is acceptable?”
We all looked at Josie. If she preferred a more central table, we would not object.
“It’s very nice, thank you.” Josie freed herself but patted Pierrette’s hand. “Such a beautiful garden. So many flowers. They nearly glow.”
“It’s a night garden,” Pierrette told her. “Designed just for this effect. I will go now and bring your drinks and first course.”
This was new. “But we haven’t ordered anything yet,” Diesel pointed out.
“No, and you won’t be because Chef has designed for you a special menu.” She leaned close to Josie and stage whispered, “We have a staff, of course, but my husband will always be chef here.”
“Oh, that’s very nice.” Josie nodded and smiled, but when we were alone for a moment, she said, “I’ve never had French food before, but isn’t it all snails and organ meats?”
“Goddess, I hope not.” Diesel shuddered.
I punched him in the arm. “You know better.” I shifted my attention to Josie. “We eat here all the time. And we have never eaten either of those things, so I doubt they would be Andre’s choice for our meal.”
“Of course not.” Andre was anything but lithe. The chef’s rounded belly testified to his love of his own food. “We serve comfort food here, and these wolves are not going to think frog’s legs or snail or other delicacies are comforting.”
“I’m a wolf, too,” said Josie in a small voice.
“Ah, but I can tell you have a more refined palate just by looking at you. Tonight, we will serve a meal your males will enjoy, but next time, I will prepare the more traditional dishes for you to try, yes?”
From Josie’s expression, she might never come again in fear of that, but she quickly schooled her features and gave a gracious nod. “I’m excited for tonight’s dinner. What are we having?”
Andre waved a finger and tsked. “One course at a time, and here are your drinks. It is a Kir Royale, champagne with a little berry liquor, and your starter. Paté is technically one of those ‘organ meats,’ but I have seen your males eat about a kilo of it.” He made his excuses then and left for the kitchen to supervise our dinner, and presumably that of everyone else, while Josie discovered a love for paté served en croute and accompanied by thin slices of lightly buttered baguette.
We had onion soup, steak frites with tiny true baby carrots, and finished with a salad of delicate greens dressed with a light vinaigrette.
Each course served with its own wine, and when we thought we were done, Pierrette reappeared with a plate of tiny pastries and small cups of espresso.
Only shifter biology left us able to walk out of the restaurant after all the drinks and wine and food.
Perhaps a run was in order? But before I could suggest this, one of the residents from the motel came racing down the block and grabbed our mate’s arm.
“Josie, Thea wants you. She says don’t come to the front door. ”
“Why, Katie?” Her voice held a level of fear that made my wolf want to kill someone. “Is it…is there someone…”
My heart sank. After our beautiful first date, something terrible hung over our mate. At least I’d be able to know who to kill.