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It took the locals as well as tourists to keep a business going in our town, especially in the off-season that would be coming soon. Summer, we had all the hikers and busses traveling from California to Nevada passing through. Winter, the skiers who wanted to save money stayed here instead of up at the resort, so we got at least their hospitality business. And the fall was the last of the fishermen and a few hunters, but really it was pretty quiet. Spring, barring late snowfalls, was dead. So if those old guys ate there every day, nobody was going to rush them out the door. Besides, I was pretty sure at least two were town councilmen. Getting on their bad side was a worse idea.
I watched the diner and read the dossier on my tablet until finally my growling stomach and whining lion drove me into deciding it was time to meet the protectee. It would be a lot easier if I could tell her why I was there, but my instructions were that I was not. It would only alarm her and serve no purpose.
So, I was going to have breakfast, watch her from inside as long as that made sense—which would not be nearly as long as those old guys who had stopped drinking coffee and talking and were now watching Emmalise move from table to table. She was assisting the servers, apparently, and working the cash register among other tasks. Apparently acting as manager for the shift, although my information never called her anything more than a server.
I climbed out of my Challenger and leaned in to check my hair in the mirror. My cheeks flushed as I realized how ridiculous I was being. The person bringing me my coffee or maybe stopping by to ask me if it was good did not care if that troublesome lock was falling over my forehead or the scruff on my jaw was thicker than fashionable. If I did my job right, she’d never even know I’d been a part of her life. Just one more local stopping in for coffee and…well, something for breakfast. Maybe pancakes.
The diner was old style in a very real way I could tell even from outside. The leatherette booths and wallpaper were well-maintained but nothing like the kitschy versions in the chain places trying to look like these. The plates delivered to the customers were piled high with everything that looked delicious, and from the happy smiles of those who were forking up bacon and ham and sausage and eggs and pancakes and…it was going to be a treat.
How had I managed not to eat here all this time?
But when I stepped inside, riding the aromas of all the usual diner breakfast foods was a scent neither my lion nor I could deny. And now the thought was: how had I managed not to meet her?
But I knew. It was because it hadn’t been time, and now it was.
Mate.
I know.
And she was not a shifter. Not at all. What would Abuelo say about this?
Chapter Five
Emmalise
I shoved the tub of dishes I’d been filling into Darla’s arms, her startledoof!not slowing me down for a moment. Before Jeanine, the other server, could greet the new arrival, I darted over to the menus and grabbed one.
“Table three needs you, Jeanine,” I said, heading for the door. “I’ll take care of this guy.”
Jeanine was almost as old as Marva, and had been here almost as long, but despite knees she complained about constantly, she hadn’t missed a shift in over twenty-five years. Or so she told me.
A lot.
And the smirk creasing her wrinkled face told me she didn’t believe for a minute I’d nearly knocked her down on my way to the door just to be a good hostess. And I had no idea why I was behaving this way. Not that I didn’t recognize a hot guy when I saw him, but usually I didn’t particularly care. I brushed back some stray strands that found their way out of my braid. My customer also had a lock of hair that needed tending to, but I didn’t dare.
My hand disagreed, and I jerked it back just in time to keep it from reaching out. What was wrong with me? I should probably ask Jeanine or Darla to seat the man, but I wasn’t going to let one guy with forearms like that unsettle me. Forearms! Since when did anyone notice those?
I needed a nap or some coffee or a whack in the head to make whatever was drawing me to this guy settle down. And he smelled like the forest, earthy and a little bit of pine and rich and…
Since when could I smell anything at all over the bacon and coffee and other scents redolent in the air of any diner? When I got home, I had to immediately shower and change or smell diner all evening.
Sure, maybe someone who bathed in perfume, as happened occasionally, could pierce the general atmosphere and manage to offend everyone in the room, but this was not that. It was a good smell, and I wanted to stand closer to inhale more of it.
The only possible explanation was that I’d lost my mind. Or…didn’t brain tumors sometimes play tricks with a sense of smell?
“Emmalise?” Darla waved at me from near the kitchen. “Gabe says we’re running out of bacon.”
“Okay, sounds good.” I smiled at the stranger. “If you’d like to come this way, we have a table ready for you.”
He smiled, and my heart thudded in my ears. “I’m not sure. I heard there might not be bacon.”
I giggled like a teenager, wincing at the sound. “Oh, Gabe’s definition of ‘almost out of bacon’ is about fifty pounds in the refrigerator and freezer. We’ll make it through breakfast. Would you like to sit here at the front?” Even though we usually didn’t give single diners a booth, I found myself leading him to the one where I’d been kneeling when I spotted the cat earlier. “Is this all right?”
He frowned, and I started to look for another good place to seat him, but before I could, he said, “This is fine. I just…no, it’s perfect.”
When he was seated just about at the exact place where I’d been earlier, I placed the menu in front of him and straightened up. “Coffee?”
“Yes, and just in case, I’d like to order a side of bacon now.”
