1. Howl are you?
Oliver
I was always thirty minutes early.
It was a bad habit, honestly. But after forty-eight years, it wasn’t one I’d ever shake. I’d learned it from my grandfather when he used to take me to football practice and we’d sit in the parking lot together in comfortable silence or listen to the radio until it was time to get out of the car.
Now, here I was, half an hour early for my first date with a monster.
Not only was it my first date with a monster, it was my first first date in over a decade.
I swallowed hard as I stared at the cafe doors across the quaint little street.
A neon sign glowed in the window. They’d updated their logo since the last time I stopped by for a cup of coffee.
Creature Cafe glowed bright, even in the rays of the morning sun.
The red brick building had front windows overlooking bright pastel tables, where a few patrons sat outside drinking lattes and chatting.
Originally, I was supposed to go to the cafe location in the city, but I actually lived closer to this spot.
My house was about half an hour away, tucked between suburbs and surrounded by trees.
Luckily, the Barista had agreed to arrange our date here instead.
I didn’t really have a habit of going in the city unless it was to shop for kitchen ingredients at one of the fresh markets downtown.
I was nervous. So, so nervous. I hadn’t been on a date in a very long time.
My two daughters had a lot to say about it, too.
I’d already gotten five texts this morning from Jess and Amy reminding me to trim my nose hairs, to not mention their mother because apparently talking about grief on the first date was a bad idea, and to not mention my job as a chef.
The last part made sense—but only because being a chef consumed my life like an open flame. If you got me talking about how to grill the perfect steak, I could monologue for a full hour. Gods forbid I’m ever asked about my opinion on the ridiculous thickness so many burger joints went for nowadays.
Burgers were supposed to be easy to eat. Why was I unhinging my jaw for a bite of meat?
Not talking in depth about being a chef and the restaurant I worked at would be tough, but might be best kept for the third or fourth date after a nice glass of red.
But not mentioning Alia or how she was part of my life for fifteen years? My high school sweetheart? The woman I’d lost to what we’d thought was just a small respiratory infection at the time?
I couldn’t just not talk about her.
I loved my daughters. They were both in college now and starting their lives. I was so proud of them, but I wasn’t so sure they were right about this one thing.
Then again, I didn’t even know how to date anymore. I’d been so certain for so long I wouldn’t ever want to date again.
But the moment Jess and Amy were out of the nest, I realized just how quiet my house was.
And how lonely I was.
I’d known the Barista for about twenty years.
We first met on a random night when I’d gone into a grocery store completely panicking because our two-year-olds had a fever.
I’d been so young and a new dad and exhausted.
He happened to be there for similar reasons and helped me pick out the right medicine, and we’d known each other since.
It was strange to think of him as one of my oldest friends, given that we didn’t talk very often, but it was true. And when Alia passed, well, he was there for me in ways I’d never known were possible.
My eyes teared up and I cursed under my breath, yanking my gaze from the little cafe.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I wasn’t ready to date again. I wanted a second chance. I was so lonely and . . . old. I was getting old.
Was this the right decision? I did crosswords every morning with my cup of coffee and liked binge-watching medical dramas and had a closet full of dusty kink equipment. Why would someone want to date me?
A figure suddenly appeared to my right. “Jesus fucking Christ!” I yelled. My hand slapped over my chest as I stared at the man in my passenger seat as if he were a ghost.
The Barista.
My tattooed red-haired friend immediately grabbed the lever on the seat and put it back flat. “Sorry. I’m hiding.”
“You? Hiding?” I laughed. “From what exactly?”
“One of my children. She fully convinced Lucy that it was appropriate for her to get a horse, and naturally he did the whole ‘Go ask your papa’ thing.”
“Almost every girl wants a horse at some point,” I said sagely, remembering when Jess and Amy announced they were going to become cowgirls when they were nine.
But then Amy found out she’d have to shovel poop, and that quickly ruined her vision of the future. Now, she was becoming an entomologist—which was just as cool in my opinion.
He shifted his body a little lower, eyeing the window suspiciously. “Anyway, I knew you’d be here early.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Next time, don’t try to give me a heart attack. Some of us aren’t immortal.”
The Barista hadn’t aged in the last twenty years, which used to freak me out until I learned he wasn’t human. Then a lot of things had started to make sense about him, like how his beard definitely smoked when he was pissed off.
“Not immortal yet,” he said. “Who knows what may happen?”
“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?” I asked.
He raised a thick brow. “Did you not tell me that you were desperate to find a submissive who’d let you jerk them off while they whimpered?”
My cheeks heated. “I certainly didn’t tell you that and you fucking know it.”
He chuckled. “But am I wrong?”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, turning my gaze back to the little cafe. I snorted as the door opened and a girl stepped outside. Even from here, her eyes blazed. “Is your daughter about Trixie’s height with a ponytail and eyes that look like yours when you’re angry?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, well, looks like Luca is taking her somewhere.”
The Barista sat up slightly, watching as the two of them got into a car. “Oh good.” He sighed and sank back again. “He’s furious with me and Lucy too, and I don’t even know why. Why is it so fucking hard to raise kids? Do you know how old I am?”
“A hell of a lot older than me. But since all of you are immortal, I have no idea.”
He smiled. “Old. Very old. And I’ve fought a lot of battles in my lifetime, but this . . .”
“Children are tough,” I said. “All the gray in my beard and sideburns are from Amy and Jess. And god, I love them, but raising teenage girls alone is not for the weak.”
“I’m frightened of our youngest. Tana. I’m also certain she’s smarter than me.”
“That makes it even harder,” I chuckled. “But you have Trixie and Lucy. The three of you are a good team. It’ll be okay.”
The Barista nodded and then put his seat back up, regarding me thoughtfully. “I don’t normally talk to anyone before their date, but it’s different with you.”
“Because I’m not a bright-eyed twenty-year-old?”
He snorted, but didn’t disagree. He ran his fingers through his copper beard. “Your date . . . well, mate if you choose to take him. He can be rash and tough and bossy sometimes, but he means well. He always takes care of others. He’s also my nephew—Al, Quinn, and Luna’s son.”
My spine straightened. “You set me up with your nephew? How old is he?”
“I did, and old enough.”
“B, I don’t know about this.” I was already pushing it by going on a date. This was a whole other layer I hadn’t prepared for. Plus, while I was bisexual, it had been a long time since I’d been with another man. A whole new wave of anxiety flared through me.
He shook his head. “I know this is right for both of you, although admittedly, I’m not sure how. But I can see the connection.”
His gaze dropped to my chest, to my heart. I wasn’t really sure how his powers worked, and I’d never asked. I just knew everyone he helped find love always ended up happy.
And that’s what I wanted, right? To be happy?
More than anything, I believed in love. I believed that sometimes, a relationship could spark in an instant, and your life would be changed for the better.
This first date business still scared the shit out of me. Even knowing the Barista was matching me.
“I know that he’s younger than you and that might give you pause. But he’s . . . he’s wonderful, Oliver. I promise I wouldn’t match you with someone I didn’t believe in.”
All my nerves quieted and I relaxed. “Did you know I needed to hear that so I didn’t drive away?”
He nodded. “Yes. And I understand why. I cannot imagine . . . I cannot fathom losing Trixie or Lucy and what it would do to me. But you deserve to be loved, Oliver. You deserve to spend your life with someone who will cherish you.”
“Starting over at forty-eight . . . scares the shit out of me.”
“I know. But it’ll be worth it.” He reached for the door handle and cleared his throat.
“Also, your date beat you here by thirty minutes. He’s been pestering all of us and Lucy is this close to smiting him.
He’s even more nervous than you are, so .
. . if you could kindly follow me into the cafe . . .”
Oh god. Was I doing this? I was doing this. “Okay,” I exhaled. “All right.”
I reminded myself how badly I wanted this as the Barista opened the door. I wrinkled my nose, turned off the car, and hopped out with him.
I hadn’t been this nervous in ages. Truly. I wasn’t used to feeling like this.
“Did I underdress?” I asked as I followed the Barista across the street.
“For a date at a coffee shop?” he asked without looking back.
Well, that was a fair point.
I raked my fingers through my salt-and-pepper hair, catching my reflection in the window as he reached the front door.
I’d gone with jeans and a T-shirt, and okay, yes, I did look good for my age.
I liked to run every morning and kept a regular workout routine with karate.
There were some people at work I’d overheard talking about me on countless occasions that referred to me as a DILF. And it was a badge I wore with pride.
I stepped inside Creature Cafe and took a second to orient myself. It was busy, even for a Friday morning. Two baristas worked behind the counter, and I recognized one of them as Trixie.
She spotted me and offered a cheery smile. I gave her a wave as the Barista led me through the cafe, past the minotaur blowjob painting a lot of humans seemed to somehow not notice, and toward a booth in the back corner.
“Has anyone ever complained about the art on the walls?” I asked.
“Nope. And we’ve had it spelled so minors think everyone in the painting is just having a picnic.”
I laughed as he came to a slow stop in front of me, gesturing to the booth to our left.
Sitting on the other side was a werewolf. He looked up at me, his eyes the color of a full moon in a dark sky.
Holy shit.
My date was with a werewolf.
A very sexy, very muscled, dark-haired werewolf.
“Uh, hi. Howl are you? I mean—how are you?” I winced at myself.
I’d already fucked everything up.
The werewolf in the booth let out a gruff chuckle and stood, towering over the Barista and I both. Broad shoulders with thick, corded muscles under fur that looked silky and soft. He gleamed under the morning rays of sunlight filtering in through the windows.
“Okay, you two,” the Barista said. “I’ll bring you both coffee. I know what your orders are. Be good.”
“Is that for him or for me?” I chuckled nervously.
“Both.” He arched a brow at me and then left us, heading back up to the coffee counter.
The werewolf and I simply stared at each other. He was certainly younger than me, that much was clear. But how much younger?
And he’d yet to say a single word.
Oh god, what if he thought I was too old?
I held out my hand. “My name is Oliver.”
He cocked his head ever so slightly and drew in a deep breath. His eyes fluttered, then flashed like lightning.
And suddenly my world was tilting and I was being pushed back onto the smooth table top. My mouth dropped as I realized he’d lifted me and pinned me down as if I weighed nothing.
“Mate.”
This was absolutely not the way my future submissive was going to treat me.