1. Dante

1

"Jesus Christ, Amy. You are the most inconsiderate woman…"

The hateful tone has my attention snapping to the front of the diner where a pudgy man with thinning blond hair is pointing angrily at a woman. My eyes narrow followed by a hot flare of rage when I notice the little girl, who can't be more than ten years old, plastered to the woman's back. They both have red hair, the ginger kind that is more orange than auburn. The way the woman—Amy—put herself between the girl and the enraged man, ensuring the brunt of his anger is focused on her, has my fists clenching and my chest growing tight.

"What kind of mother drags their daughter to work with the hope that someone can come to pick her up?" the man seethes.

I watch as a muscle in the side of her jaw tenses and jumps from clenching her teeth. Her cheeks and neck flush bright red—with anger, not fear—causing the freckles dotting her face to stand out.

"Are you listening to me?" the asshole snaps when she remains quiet. It's then I notice that the shape and color of his eyes matches the little girls.

Damn, is this sorry excuse for a male her father?

"Of course, Chad," Amy's voice is so soft that if it wasn't for my enhanced shifter hearing I probably wouldn't have caught her words. "I appreciate you coming out of your way to get her."

Chad. Of course, this losers name is Chad.

"Come on, Molly," Chad snaps his fingers—Snaps! Like he's calling a fucking dog!—and it takes everything in me not to jump to my feet and give him a lesson in how you treat people.

"Bye Mama. I love you," the girl, Molly, says with a sigh that tells me this interaction is all too normal for her.

"We're going to talk about this," Chad warns with some more finger pointing. I don't miss the way his pale blue eyes scan the diner or the oily smile that slides across his mouth when he realizes that they are the center of attention. "We're supposed to be co-parenting, I can't always be the one to pick up your slack."

With that, he turns and pushes his way through the doorway, almost taking out an older couple coming in behind him without so much as an apology.

The moment he disappears with the little girl following meekly behind, Amy squeezes her eyes shut and sucks in a sharp breath, before she turns to disappear into the back.

My elbows drop to the table, and I thrust my fingers into my hair, pulling out the elastic holding it back in the small bun so it can fall around my shoulders. The strands are a mix of everything from gold to raven, thanks to my mixed ancestry and years spent in the sun. My body is equally athletic from living an active life as both a human and cat shifter.

I happened to be riding past on my bike and turned into this diner with a sudden craving for an old-fashioned bacon burger. Now, I'm wondering if it was something else besides my stomach that drew me in here.

My heart is beating like a hummingbird's and my breath is coming fast and shallow after witnessing the altercation. What the fuck is wrong with me? I've seen worse cases of domestic occurrences than this and I've never felt more than second hand embarrassment. This… something about this is different. This has me feeling way past angry. What I'm feeling towards that female is almost as if she's?—

My head snaps up and my entire body flushes white hot.

Fuck me. That female is my mate.

I'm out of my booth before I consider what the hell I'm doing. The restrooms line the same hall that she disappeared down, and there is a set of swinging doors at the far end. I am just about to push through them when a pair of hushed voices stop me in my tracks.

"How can you let him take Molly? I'd lose my mind," a woman says. I recognize her voice as the waitress who seated me just before the asshole appeared to cause the scene.

"Oh, that's easy," Amy—my female, my mate—lets out a relieved laugh. "He never actually takes her during his weekends. In fact, he's heading across town right now to drop her off with his parents, and she loves going there."

Some of the tightness in my chest loosens at hearing this.

"Wait. All that bullshit about how he's bailing you out, and it's his weekend for visitation?" The other woman lets out a disgusted snort.

"Chad likes to conveniently leave out any parts of our parenting plan that he dislikes. Like the part that states I'm only supposed to work on days he has Molly or while she's in school so that, in the judges own words—'Molly has a reliable and stable parent caretaker.' Don't even get me started on the alimony he's supposed to pay me."

"How come his parents let their son treat you like this?" the other waitress grumbles.

I decide that I like this woman.

"He's their son," Amy says, like that should matter. "They may not agree with how he acts, but blood is blood. Honestly, as long as they act as a buffer for Molly, I'm grateful. I can handle Chad."

Their footsteps coming toward me has me hurrying back to my booth before I'm caught eavesdropping. I've barely settled myself in my seat and picked up the laminated menu when Amy comes around the corner. She's got a brown apron wrapped around her hips over a matching polyester dress and her ginger hair is pulled up into a high ponytail.

Fates, even in the dated uniform she's a lovely thing. Her features have smoothed out, no longer mottled red from her angry blush. She has a long neck, high cheekbones, and plump pink lips. Her eyes are wide set and a light hazel that is mostly brown and gold. I want to get closer to her so I can see what other colors might be hidden in their depths. She's slender, with wide hips. A "mom bod". I want to peel her out of her dress so I can see every inch of her.

It's a little early for the lunch rush, so there are only a few tables that are filled and all of them have already been served. Watching her over the top of my menu, my eyes follow her as she stops to grab a pitcher of ice water before heading for my table.

"Hi. I'm Amy and I'll be your server today," she says, reaching across me to top off the water glass I've barely touched. "Today's lunch special is the BLT with your choice of side. Can I get something else started for you to drink?"

When I look up from the menu and our eyes meet, it's like being hit by lightning. Electricity arcs between us kicking my heart into a heavy cadence until it's pounding against my ribs and my cock grows suddenly, achingly hard. With her this close, I can smell a hint of lemon coming off her, along with her own earthy vanilla scent.

My lip's part, just slightly, and I breathe more of her in. Scenting her more deeply than I can with just my nose, and it takes everything I have not to launch myself at her. The menu falls from my fingers, and I curl them around the edge of the table to keep myself from sliding out of the booth. My cat wants to lay her across the table so I can press my face between her legs where the scent of her arousal is blooming for me.

"Water's fine," I manage to say, my throat suddenly gone dry.

She must like the sound of my voice because I'm hit with even more of her sweet arousal, and it takes all my strength not to groan.

Her cheeks have turned a rosy pink as she leans her hip against the booth and reaches into her apron for her pen and order booklet, jostling the water pitcher so she can hold both.

"Do you need a few more minutes or are you ready to order? I can come back—" her voice comes out soft and breathy and my cock jerks hard under the table.

"No. I'm ready," I say quickly, not at all ready to let her go yet. "I'll have a bacon burger. With extra fries and lots of fry sauce."

She starts to write down my order before looking down and realizing that she's holding her pen upside down. A noise escapes her that sounds suspiciously like a moan, and she twirls the pen around so she can rewrite the order. More color is creeping up her neck, turning her soft blush into a darker, more embarrassed, color.

"I'll get this started right away," she says as she spins on her heel, so fast that she looses her balance for a second and almost lands on her ass. The movement brings more of her delicious scent and I almost nut right then. Fuck, she smells amazing. Like fresh baked meringue, home, and mine.

"Wait," I call out to her before she can get away. "There is one more thing."

Her back goes straight, and she slowly turns around to face me. "Of course, what else would you like?"

"A date." I lick my lips and lean towards her across the table. "I'd really love to take you out on a date."

She turns still as stone at my request, shutting down right in front of me. Her eyes narrow and her lips press into a thin line as she drops her note pad into her pocket. "That's not on the menu," she snaps, then spins around to stomp back to the kitchen.

It takes me a moment to realize she turned me down. Followed quickly by the sting of her rejection. When our eyes met, I could have sworn there was a flash of recognition in them. Doesn't she feel it too? Or maybe it's only my wishful thinking because, especially now, I know for fact that she's mine. My mate. Both my cock and my teeth ache to sink inside her. My cat is howling for me to fuck and mark and claim.

She's not a shifter, you idiot! It's been a long time since I've been around humans. When I used to frequent the bars all I had to do was suggest a night of sex and women would gladly throw themselves at me. Maybe asking her on a date out of the blue wasn't the best way to go about it? It's been a long time since I've fucked a human, and I've never actually dated one. Are things so much different from shifters?

With a low groan, I adjust my cock and then wait for her to come back. The whole time I wait, I think of how I'm going to ask to see her again. Drinking the tepid water without tasting it, I watch her flutter through the dining room to serve the other customers as they fill up the tables. Getting the feeling that she might be purposely avoiding me.

Finally, she comes by my table with her water pitcher again. When she reaches stiffly across me to fill my glass, I try again.

"My apologies if I offended you," I say as I reach out to take her outstretched arm. When her narrowed eyes cut to mine, I rethink touching her. "If asking for a date was too forward, can I get your number instead? Then we can get to… know….each…other?"

I watch as she turns on her heel and storms away a second time, without so much as a word this time.

Several minutes pass and I realize that she's definitely avoiding me now. This is confirmed when the other waitress, the one I heard her talking to, brings my order.

"Excuse me, could I ask a favor—?" I say before she can hurry away after dropping my food in front of me.

"Stop right there," she cuts me off, even though there is humor in her eyes. "You're wasting your time, buddy."

My heart falls.

"I don't suppose you could?—"

"Nope. If you want to try to get to know Amy, you're on your own," she says briskly. "But I'll give you some advice. She's been through a lot, and the last thing she needs is some one-night stand playboy rolling through town. Go find someone else to pester."

She walks away without giving me a chance to respond, leaving me to think about what she said.

I eat automatically without taking my eyes off my female as she moves around the dining room. Twice I catch her glance over at me under her thick lashes, only to spin around and give me her back when she catches me watching her back.

I know I didn't imagine the initial scent of her arousal or the mutual attraction in her soft brown eyes. The question is how do I approach her, and show her that I'm not the one-night stand playboy she obviously thinks I am.

When I finish eating, I leave enough cash to cover my meal twice over then stride out of the diner without a backward glance. I don't want to make her uncomfortable—more uncomfortable—and the longer I stay here the more likely I am to do something that she might not like. Like drag her to my bike and up into the mountains to my territory.

Long strides take me across the parking lot where my bright yellow Ducati is waiting for me. I waste no time strapping on my skull cap and sliding a pair of Ray Bans on. Then I rev the engine before pulling into traffic.