Page 9 of The Griffin, the Tiger, and Their House Cat Omega

I could do anything once, and that was the exact number of times I would place myself in the bowels of the beast. Okay, nothing dramatic there. But I’d tried so hard to avoid contact with shifters, and working for a human owned firm had so far enabled me to do just that. So many of them were insular in their

It was, to all accounts, a perfectly nice shifter club that also admitted humans and all sorts of other types of people. Which would imply that they were accepting of those with differences from one another. Also, I was not going there to spend hours and show people my cat. My cat who I was actually very proud of, and even though he never seemed embarrassed or upset when other shifters made fun of him or treated him rudely, I was enraged on his behalf.

No one at work was aware of my shifter self—probably. For a moment, when I was assigned the lead, I wondered…but Bob had never indicated anything, and I chose to put that out of my mind for now. Animals, even if we only got the one location, had the potential to bring in a lot of money every month, and it wasn’t a cold call since they were actively looking to replace a vendor. Of course, that also meant I wouldn’t be the only salesman pitching to them in the coming days, so I had to put aside my personal concerns and do my job.

Give myself credit for no longer being the scared kitty cat who crossed the country ready to yowl at every bear shifter I encountered. I’d worked my way up to a good job and had a nice place to live, a good car, and the respect of my coworkers. It was more than I’d hoped for when I landed in this town, half ready to run for home and hide under the bed.

I spent most of my time scoring new accounts, and rarely kept one on my own list. There would be too many for me to handle well, so when I handed this off to another salesman, it would not seem weird. If the whole chain wanted us, it could be someone’s full-time assignment.

Unbuckling my seat belt, I stepped out of the car and faced the back door of the club. I’d been told to use the employee entrance and was grateful because there was a pretty good line out front, and bypassing it to let the bouncer—a large bear shifter who stood with arms crossed over his chest and a snarl on his lips—know I was there for business might upset those who’d been waiting for a while. I’d noticed a couple of weasels, among others. In my limited experience, they were quick to take offense and did not suffer anything they perceived as slights lightly. The burns from coffee splashed over my arm had taken a shift to heal. He announced the barista only added four extra shots instead of five, despite her protests. Whatever the reality, he didn’t like his drink and I was punished for the crime of being in line behind him.

The building stood at the top of a long private road, right on the edge of a cliff, and the guest parking lot was already crowded despite the fact they had not been open for the evening for long. Many salesmen would not have working at this time, but when nightclubs and restaurants and bars were your biggest customers, you showed up whenever it was convenient for the clients. Often even their office people and management kept similar hours to the time they were open to the public.

The back door was open and I found my way into the kitchen, which was humming with activity. I was glad to see this because it meant they served a lot of food—and would need a lot of the things we could provide them. Pausing, I watched the chefs moving around the large, open space and made mental notes of what they were preparing and what equipment theyused. It would help me with my sales pitch. I’d been concerned I’d feel uncomfortable here, but instead I felt…safe. As I had in the clowder but never where other shifters were present since.

Having spent a lot of time in commercial kitchens over the last several years, I had a keen eye for how they were maintained as well as how the staff worked together as a team. In just a moment or two I could see they had top-notch equipment, well cared for, and the chefs, cooks, and other staff were like a well-oiled machine. It boded well for the business end of the club, and I was more inspired than ever to get the account for Manny’s

“Hi.” The little voice caught me off guard, and I glanced down to the one kind of person I had not expected to find here at Animals. A small child, maybe five or so…I wasn’t good at guessing children’s ages, but she was completely adorable and confident in herself. “Do you work with my uncle?”

I looked around, having been with humans too much lately not to find it odd that a little one would approach a stranger. In the clowder, everyone had an eye on all the kits, though. And while this one was not a house cat, she had the feel of some sort of cat and a nice smile. “Hi, back. I’m Matthew, and I am here for a meeting. I don’t know your uncle.”

Her smile faded. “That’s too bad. He’s been sad, and he could use a friend.”

“Flora?” Just then, a man came in, the cat scent as well as something else, something heady and enticing. “Sweetie, you know you’re not supposed to be up here when the club is open. It’s just for grown-ups then, remember?”

Must be she was allowed the run of the place when it was just staff—another point in their favor if this man considered them family. No shifter left their little ones with anyone they didn’t. “I apologize.” He put an arm around Flora’s shoulder and bent to kiss the top of her head. “I hope my niece wasn’t gettingunderfoot, Chef.” He addressed this comment to a man wearing a toque and overseeing everything.

“No, but I was about to call you. It’s not safe when things are busy,” the chef said, and of course he was right. Everything was sharp or hot or easily spilled.

“You’re right. Flora knows this, don’t you sweetie?”

“I’m sorry.” She leaned back against her uncle’s legs. “But I needed to come and find your friend.” She frowned. “But he says he doesn’t know you.”

I inhaled again and the warm, safe feeling I’d had when I entered grew stronger. It must be coming, at least in part, from this man, Flora’s uncle.Too bad he’s not my mate. Whoa, where did that come from?

“Will you come over to our place, Matthew?” she asked sweetly

Her uncle glanced at me, startled.

“I introduced myself,” I put in quickly, before he could rescind the invitation or wonder too much how his little niece knew my name. “And I’d love to visit with you and your uncle, Flora.”

She beamed and reached for her uncle’s hand, leading the way out of the kitchen and through a series of hallways to an elevator.

Chapter Seven

Allen

The first thing I noticed when I got off the plane was that it wasn’t freezing. I’d almost forgotten what that was like. To be able to walk out into the sunshine and not have to hunker down to keep warm even in a thick parka. And right now, said parka was hanging over my arm and about to be consigned to the hotel closet for the duration of this trip.

The cab dropped me off at a place called Paradise Point. I’d gotten a room on the ground floor that faced a body of water called Mission Bay. At first, when I’d tried to book it, I was told they were sold out. I had agreed to a room on the fourth floor in the main hotel with no guarantee of a view. But then twenty minutes later I got a call there had been a cancellation. Did I want the suite?

Hell yeah. I didn’t care what it cost.

When I entered the room, I almost let out a shriek of pleasure. It was gorgeous with a mini kitchen, a sitting room, and a bedroom behind closed doors. There was a little porch outside two sliding glass doors with lounge chairs and a fire pit. Beyond the porch was a stretch of soft pale sand. It led to the edge of sunny blue water where little boats sailed, and people floated by in on some sort of standing board boat. I had no idea what those things were called but I was going to have to learn.

I was in the lap of luxury. Dad would be so happy for me.

There were palm trees everywhere. They looked so alien to me and so welcome.

---