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He finished off his rum, made a cheese-and-salami stack, and popped it in his mouth. “An app for finding your mate? Do they really work, or is it some fluke?”
I put my glass down on the table between our chairs. “I’ve been researching one in particular. The one with the best reputation and reviews. There are hundreds and hundreds of shifters and other creatures who have found their mates on the app. Even monsters.”
“You’ve been researching? Why in the hell didn’t you tell me? I honestly thought you had stopped caring about finding her a long time ago.”
I huffed through my nose. “I never gave up. I’m a little less brooding than you. That’s all.”
Over a few more hours, we managed to finish off the rum. Alcohol didn’t affect shifters like it did humans and especially bears like us. But after a bottle of rum, we were both markedly less lucid.
“I made up my mind,” Ansel proclaimed with his pointer finger in the air.
“About what?” I asked, laughing.
“Sign up for the damned thing. The app. Go on. Do it now.”
My friend’s declaration made me laugh even harder, but I signed us up that night. By the time I was done, Ansel had fallen fast asleep on the chair outside and, after turning off the fire pit, I did the same.
Chapter Four
Monroe
“Name for the order, please,” I requested with my permanent marker ready to write on the paper cup.
“Bob. B-O-B.”
I snickered at his response but received a sneer. Bob was so hard to spell, after all. I passed the cup to Benji and slammed it down a bit too hard.
“If you slam one more cup, I swear, Monroe.” He put his hands on either side of his waist and cocked one hip out. “What’s crawled up your ass today anyway?”
“Nothing,” I ground out, turning to give the next customer a fake smile.
“Spill it. I need some tea. My life with my mates is drama-free. It’s a good thing, but I’d love to be your cup,” he said while making a delicious vanilla latte.
“I had dinner at my family’s house last night,” I answered in a flat tone. Because that’s how I felt about it, flat and run over. Taken out to the trash as well after I replayed the events of the night over and over until my eyes finally closed and my alarm blared only seconds later.
“Keep talking, but at the same time, no more words are needed,” Benji quipped back and winked at a guy who, in turn, nearly melted into a pile of goo right there. Benji had a male and a female mate. He was the pivot in the harem. He was tall and always looked put together and kind and supportive.
“Last night became particularly brutal. My mom confessed that she was ashamed of me for being the only one of her children not mated. No one stood up for me, so I was left to assume they all agreed with her. I’m not sure if I’m more pissed or hurt.”
“Ah, shit, Monroe. They don’t deserve you. I swear, if everyone doesn’t find their mate before the age of twenty-five, it’s like we aged out or something. We’re so contemporary with our phones and computers, but in some ways, we’re living smack dab in the middle of a Charlotte Bronte novel.”
Everyone in the coffee shop paused their talking and raised their gazes from their phone to look at him. Benji had a commanding presence.
Someone called out a hell yeah from the back.
We waited until everyone went back to their business before resuming. “It’s not that I don’t want a mate or a husband, but I want it on my terms. Besides, my tastes are unique.”
My friend threw his head back and laughed. “Sweetie, they are not unique but a bit more interesting than most.”
A rush of heat raced to my cheeks.
“Nothing to be ashamed of. Older guys are hot.”
I slapped at his arm. In between customers, we had more time to talk while we wiped down counters and restocked things like cups and napkins. “And where do you suggest I find this older, hot guy who doesn’t mind all my quirks?”
Benji rolled his eyes. “You’re really going to ask me that? You know where I found my mates.”
The app. Shit. I’d had a lapse in memory.
