Page 2 of Frostbite & Mistletoe
She made it sound like a joke, and maybe it was. To everyone in town, her dating life was a punchline. It just didn’t feel that funny anymore.
“Maybe it’s not ShiftMatch,” Cade said.“Maybe your wolf’s just waiting for someone specific.”
“Like my bear was.” Maggie turned to her mate, and her expression softened, her smile turning positively sappy.
Kymberlie let herself sigh, the laughter dropping away.“Trust me, I’ve thought about it. Every time I meet someone, my wolf just shuts down. It’s like she’s waiting for something in particular, but nobody’s ever come close.” She traced a finger through the ring of condensation on the polyurethane-coated wooden tabletop.“Most nights, after closing down this place, the quiet in my house is so loud it hurts my ears.”
She saw the pity in Maggie’s eyes and forced herself to laugh.“Ignore me. The holiday season always makes me sappy.”
Maggie reached for her hand.“Your mate is out there, Kymber. You just have to be patient.”
“Maybe.” Kymberlie shrugged.“Or maybe I’m doomed to run solo. Anyway, I’d better get back to work before my staff mutinies.”
Cade surprised her once more.“Good things come to those who wait, Kymberlie. Sometimes you only find what you need when you stop looking.”
Coming from him, it hit differently. Kymberlie nodded, tucking the words away.
“I’ll remember that. You two enjoy yourselves. This band’s on fire tonight, and my kitchen’s got a new bourbon bacon burger that’s already a hit.”
She rose and left them. Her smile faded as soon as her back was turned. Inside her, her wolf twisted restlessly, longing for something just out of reach—a scent, a presence she could never quite find.
Patience only gets you so far when you’re turning thirty right after New Year.
Then she squared her shoulders and pushed it all down. She had the bar, friends, and her pack’s respect. The only thing missing was a mate. But if that wasn’t in the cards for her, she’d just have to live with it.
The band launched into a new song, and the crowd hooted and clapped rhythmically to the beat. Kymberlie slipped into the kitchen, losing herself in the rhythm of expediting orders and managing the usual chaos.
If she worked a little harder and smiled a little brighter, maybe no one would notice the emptiness at her center.
∞∞∞
Kymberlie had just finished muscling the new keg of Broken Antler Autumn Ale into place when she sensed something was wrong. The hair on her arms prickled as her inner wolf came alert. She whipped her head around and drew in a deep breath.
Almost buried under the usual stew of beer, grease, and too many people was a sharper, nastier smell: the acrid tang of burning plastic.
Uh-oh. That can’t be good.
She tracked the smell to her storeroom. It grew stronger with every step.
Out on the floor, the band slammed into a chorus, and the sound of dancers’ feet picked up.
A sharp pop and an electrical sizzle split the air from the main electrical panel mounted on the back wall. The breaker box, overloaded from every direction, spat blue-white sparks. A thread of smoke curled up.
“Shit,” Kymberlie hissed, lunging for the main breaker.
Even moving at shifter speed, she couldn’t reach it in time.
With a crack like a gunshot, sparks erupted from the flat metal box. Flames shot up the wall and raced for the ceiling.
The nearest smoke alarm began shrilling.
The club’s lights flickered, then went out. Cowboy Crush’s music died mid-note, plunging the club into an uneasy silence broken only by scattered questions. After a second, the emergency lights kicked on.
Someone shouted from the dance floor:“I smell smoke!”
The tension in the storm of questions that followed snapped like a live wire. Kymberlie smelled the sharp odor of fear suddenly cutting through the fog of food, sweat, and beer.
If a stampede started, someone could get hurt—or worse.
