Page 5 of Wrong Number, Right Valentine

There was nothing elderly about him. He had to be about my age, his jawline begging to be nibbled, his ass calling to be squeezed, and those lips—yeah, I needed a taste of those. My wolf had other plans, of course. He wanted to sink his teeth into his shoulder and mark him as ours. My wolf didn’t understandthe niceties that came with humans, and make no mistake about it—my mate was human.

I didn’t know how he knew Foster and had been at a loss for words when he came in. My autopilot boss came through, saving the day, but inside, I had zero confidence in what I should do next. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t know Foster very well, because I’d never caught so much of a hint of his scent on Foster. Had I, I’d have recognized it instantly and found him long before now.

We were about to close out one seating, and there was no time for me to stand here staring at the man. Not that staring was productive or getting me any closer to him. No one wanted to be ogled while they were working, and having Banks think of me as his creepy boss wasn’t in my plans for the day.

You could tell this wasn’t his normal job. No one familiar with kitchen work showed up as well dressed as he did. Either he was doing a favor for Foster, or he needed the cash. Maybe both. Either way, I was grateful because it meant he was here.

I went to the front of the house, touched base with a few customers about their meals, wished others a happy Valentine’s Day, and helped get everyone checked out. I assisted some people to the door or their cars, depending on their needs and if they wanted my help. Some of the regulars always asked, and I was honored by their trust.

Truth be told, I’d always loved hosting the early-bird seating. A lot of restaurants had moved away from it, not liking the idea of offering the same meals for less and having to come in early. But I loved seeing all these happy faces and couples coming in year after year, many celebrating their 40th, 50th, or even more Valentine’s Days together.

I helped bus the tables, bringing piles and piles of dishes into the kitchen. Somehow, Banks kept up and wasn’t the least bit grumbly about it. We hadn’t discussed money, but he was going to be well compensated. I didn’t like thinking of him as an employee. He was my mate, my equal, my everything. Or he would be if he accepted me as his. If he was another shifter, we’d have probably already had the conversation and possibly our first kiss, but he wasn’t. Human courting took time and held the very real possibility of resulting in rejection. I refused to think about that now. There was too much to be done.

“I’ll grab the silver.” I took the bins from him. They were a pain in the ass, and he had enough on his plate already.

I went to the adjacent prep table to dry, avoiding the inevitable spots air-drying left. We had enough set up for the next seating, but I wanted to get some of the side work done before things got hectic again. Anything we could do to make the real rush of the day smoother was a win in my book. Being able to watch my sexy mate while doing so was simply an added bonus.

“Where do you keep the extra rags?” Banks asked.

“I’ll show you.” It was much easier than explaining it, and besides, it was away from the soapy water, and I’d be able to scent him better.

I led him to the storeroom where we kept the cleaning supplies and spare dishes etcetera. I should’ve shown him all this before he began, but I’d been so distracted. My mate was one sexy omega, and thinking things through hadn’t been happening.

“Rags are here, dish soap here. If Chef asks for anything for the grill, it’ll be over here. Extra dishes, in case we run out, coffee stirrers, placemats—you can see it’s all right here.” Ideally I’d behelping Chef tonight, but there was too much else needing to be done, and he could handle it. He was going to say I owed him one or a thousand, and I would, but he could clear tickets like nobody’s business.

Banks brushed past me, his body grazing mine, and my wolf pushed forward. I squeezed my eyes shut and told my beast to back off.Be patient, wolf. This is not the time for that.

My mate grabbed a few rags and went back into the kitchen. I stayed still for a few seconds, willing my stirring cock to be less… active. We had a lot to do, and I didn’t have time for a stray boner.

The second seating was about to begin, and with it came a much different crowd. Wine bottles needed opening, and the kind of attention they required was more formal. This was where I’d be serving more than helping in the back. I only hoped we didn’t overwhelm Banks, because the last thing we needed was for him to leave—not just for the business, it would suck, but we’d figure that side of things out, but because I wasn’t ready to let him go.

Not now. Not when I’d just found him.

Fingers crossed he felt the same.

5

BANKS

“Are you okay?”

I jumped at the voice at my shoulder and the warm breath billowing over my neck. With the noise of people shouting and the clatter of pots and pans, I hadn’t sensed Reg approaching.

Besides, I’d been lost in dreams of him approaching me naked.

Dishwashing was a horrendous job, but it didn’t require much brain power, and I was able to lose myself in sexy ramblings that involved hands on my hips, yanking down my now filthy and wet pants, and a hot hard cock ramming into my slippery hole, caked with slick.

Having the real-life Reg steal up on me, I squealed, thinking if he could peer into my dreams, he’d toss me out of the kitchen. Maybe phone the police. Though what would he say?

“Arrest him, Officer. I looked inside the guy’s head and he was picturing me naked and inside him.”

Nah, that couldn’t happen. Sweat trickled down my spine. Not that I wasn’t covered in sweat from head to toe and the tee stuckto my back and chest. But I shivered at Reg’s voice, and I was running both hot and cold. I felt my brow with the back of my hand but ewww. I’d forgotten I was wearing gloves. Gross.

“Hunky dory!” Shit. Who said that? That expression was more befitting an old guy sitting on a porch smoking a pipe while watching passersby.

I did, and I wasn’t hunky dory. Bone tired was how I’d describe myself. But also exhilarated that I’d been thrown into an impossible situation and I hadn’t fled. Instead, I manned up and helped Reg.

There was an ulterior motive to my madness in that Reg was insanely hot, and I hoped that by sticking this shift out to the very bitter end, we might meet up sometime. Reg might want to thank me, and I’d be into that. He might be into me if we did!

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