Page 9 of Such a Sweet Omega

“No. I would like bleu cheese on the salad, yes on the steak, but for a side…”

He grinned at me. “The potatoes.”

“And don’t skimp on the bread.” I usually didn’t have them bring any, but tonight, I was just in the mood for all the tasty things.”

“It’s one of those days. Shall I have the chef start a souffle for you?”

“Why not?” I glanced around the room, looking to see if any of my patients were there to notice their healer eating everything he recommended they go light on. Shifter metabolisms were amazing, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t take care to feel our very best. “Bring it all.”

He left for a moment and returned with a basket piled high with mini baguettes they were known for. Betsy’s other mate not only operated a successful Parisian-style bakery down the street, but he provided all the bread products and many of the dessert served at the family steakhouse.

And, even better, he sent the risen loaves here to be baked, so the one I tore open and slathered with softened butter was still warm. As I sank my teeth into its goodness, crisp on the outside and tender within, I congratulated myself on resisting so often and decided that some things were worth not skipping. Being a healer sometimes made me too rigid.

I settled in to people watch.

Unless I told them I was in a hurry, the staff did not rush me, and I had finished my drink and half of the bread by the time my salad arrived. Like everything else here, it was fresh and would be delicious, especially with the creamy chunks of bleu cheese scattered over the crisp greens and baby vegetables. They sourced locally where possible, too, which I appreciated. Tonight, there seemed to be mostly humans here, all chattering away about this and that and creating a low hum of noise. A couple near the front were arguing about money, and three men in suits were discussing business.

But then my gaze lit on a familiar face, my fork landed next to my plate, and I was on my feet and crossing the room before I had time to consider whether it was a good idea.

Mate.

Don’t you dare start that. We already had a mate, and he’s dead.

Mate.Stubborn wolf.

Chapter Eight

Beale

I was losing it. Right there in the damned restaurant. I just had to come here. Bring myself on a date.

What a stupid idea.

Sweat trickled down the length of my spine as I tried to read the menu. There was a small stain on the parchment-like paper, and I focused on it with every ounce of presence I had left while I planned my exit.

I looked up, desperate for that water the waiter promised me.

That’s when I saw him.

Jabez. I shook my head, thinking I was daydreaming. Either that, or I had passed out right there at the table. I reached down and pinched at the side of my thigh, trying to wake myself before someone else had to. The last thing I needed or wanted was more embarrassment. Hissing at the pinch, I realized I wasn’t dreaming or passed out.

He was here. At this place. His eyes were on me as he came closer.

My wolf let out a long, low howl. I didn’t recognize that noise from him.

“Jabez,” I choked out, mentally cursing the waiter for failing to bring me water.

“Beale, I thought that was you. Are you alone? Expecting someone?” His hand touched my shoulder and instantly, the world stopped spinning and I was able to breathe again.

“No. I’m here. Dating myself. Taking myself out on a date.” It sounded as lame out loud as it did in my head. Great.

“Oh, and here I was going to ask you to join me for dinner.”

“You’re eating here?” Boy, I was a genius tonight.

“I am. I hate to eat alone though. When I saw you across the room, I thought you might want to join me. But if you’re having a good time alone…”

“No.” I stood, nearly toppling the chair over. “I’m not. I would love to join you.”

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