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“That must have been nice.” She scooped a bite of pancake into her mouth and chewed, sighing. “So good.”
I was digging into a thick slice of French toast. “You work here every day and you still like the food? You don’t get sick of it?”
She paused with her fork almost to her lips. Lucky fork. “Sick of it? No way. Not only is it the best food for a hundred miles around, at least, but I don’t eat it often. Or at least, not the really good stuff.”
I looked at her trim frame and athletic build. “Well, why not? You’re not going to say you are on a diet. You look amazing.”
“And why do you think that is?” she huffed. “And before you ask, it’s not because I don’t want to be fat or unattractive. I wouldn’t mind a little less attention.” Her voice dropped. “Especially now that I’ve become aware of a new group of oglers. I thought they were my friends, kind of like friendly grandfathers.”
The old guys. It had to be. And what she told me just made what they were doing even worse. And I would make sure it stopped, but there were larger concerns now, and although my lion wanted us to go over and explain facts with claws and teeth, I would find a less messy solution.
For now, since I was already probably leading myself to a new job hunt just by eating bacon and visiting with Emmalise, I at least wanted to carry the assignment through until the end. From when I received the file until now, I’d also developed a personal interest in her safety.
We sat and ate and made a much bigger dent in the immense amount of food that two Off-Main Samplers comprised. Eventually the conversation circled around again to why she chose not to eat all this delicious food that she served patrons.
“So, tell me why, if you aren’t worried about counting calories, then how do you convince yourself not to eat all the onion rings?”
We’d been chatting lightly about the diner and the customers she met, my grandfather’s different personalities here and at home, and other such topics, but when I asked this question, she grew quiet.
“Never mind,” I said, regretting ruining the mood. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“No, it’s fine.” She pushed her plate away and leaned back. “If you’ve lived here, you know about my mom going missing.”
“Yes, I do.” But where was she going with this? “I feel like I need to take better care of myself than the average person because I don’t know what diseases run in my family. My mother disappeared, my father is unknown, and I don’t have anyone else. Oh, I have Marva, who owns the diner. She treats me like a daughter, but she isn’t a blood relative. And she’s so much older than me, old enough to be a grandparent, in fact.” She shrugged. “I’m alone, essentially, so I try to eat healthful food, get some exercise, do everything I can so I don’t have to worry about what would happen if I were to get ill and have nobody to take care of me.”
What would I do?
As a shifter, we weren’t subject to most of the diseases and other ailments humans were, so it wasn’t something that crossed my mind often, but I didn’t think this was about heart disease or other physical ailments.
Emmalise was telling me that despite her friends like the owner of the diner, she had no true family.
Only she did—she was my mate, even if she didn’t know it. And how was I going to tell her about that fact?
Chapter Seven
Emmalise
And listen to me spouting off about being all alone and explaining my plan to never get sick where I might need someone to help me. I’d never told anyone about that before, just let them think I ate carefully to keep my figure. At twenty-six, I was not involved with anyone at all and had never had a serious boyfriend. Oh, I’d dated, but I figured if dating was the measure of having a hot body, my lack was proof of the opposite. And it was okay, really. I was saving up every penny I could to get out of this town and make my way somewhere everyone didn’t look at me with pity.
Or it seemed like everyone sometimes.
How many times had I come up to a table to take an order only to overhear someone saying something about my mom? Countless. But in another town or city, nobody would know. And after watching for her around every corner for a decade, I was ready to be somewhere else. Soon I should have enough saved to make that move.
But I couldn’t leave Marva now. She depended on me. So there was that, too.
We’d eaten all the food we could hold, and I went for some containers for Tom to take the leftovers to his grandfather. All these years, the man had come in here to eat and never brought his grandson in with him. At least not while I was working. I bagged the containers and handed them to Tom. “It’s been fun, and I took a much longer lunch than I should have.”
“Would you be interested in seeing me again?” He stood up, towering over me by several inches. I was five seven, so he had to be six four or five? But he didn’t make me feel short. Odd, but pleasant. “No pressure, but I have enjoyed talking to you.”
“Me, too.” And I had, but I’d also made it a practice not to date customers of the diner. Squirming under his regard, I tried to think of why my previous choice had been a good idea. It wasn’t a big enough town to do that. Almost everyone ate at the diner. “Sure, give me your phone.” I held out my hand for it and sent myself a text. “Okay, give me a call when you’d like to get together, then.” No rush, maybe someday…
“I was hoping you might be free later on today,” he said. “Or am I being pushy?”
“Terribly,” I teased, enjoying his brand of pushy. “But as it happens, I do not have any exciting plans for this afternoon. What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe a hike? Swimming? It’s still warm enough for a dip in the canal, I think.”
“Hike, definitely.” I wasn’t ready to hang out in a swimsuit with this gorgeous man. No, I didn’t spend a lot of time worrying about how I looked, but there is a particular type of vulnerability about appearing in front of an attractive man in a bikini or even a one piece or tankini. Any bathing suit. Naked might be better. “I get off at four.”
