Page 4

Instead of a sniveling member of staff, I open the door to Olivia Zeston, teeth around her knuckle, sobbing into her hand.

She looks at me and her eyes go wide.

What the bloody hell? “Ah, sorry.” Why am I apologizing? It’s my damn cupboard!

But the unexpected sight of her pretty face reddened and screwed up in distress is doing things to my insides. Twisty, unpleasant things I haven’t let myself feel in years. “Is everything OK?”

She takes her hand from her mouth and wipes it surreptitiously on her dress. “Yeah, I just… I just—” She doesn’tsay any more before a fresh wave of tears overtakes her and her body shakes with another sob.

She looks like I probably looked for months after Charlotte left me standing at the altar like a fucking idiot. I can’t stand it.

I find myself opening my arms and pulling her in for a hug I never intended to give. Only she looks so sad and broken hiding here in my cupboard, and I don’t know what else to do. So I pat her hair awkwardly and make shushing noises, wondering what the hell I do here.

All of a sudden, two of my tentacles suddenly grow minds of their own. Without warning, they slide around her ankles, and I’m almost bowled over by the sweet flavor of her skin where her bare calves meet my sensitive limbs. My tentacles have taste sensors at the tips, perfectly conditioned to pick up sensitive changes beneath the ocean or being really inappropriate with strangers. Only I usually have more control.

Fuck!

She gasps and pulls away. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I should go.” She rubs beneath her eyes and moves to leave.

“Wait.” It’s me who should apologize. That’s never happened to me before. I glance down and catch the faint but unmistakable glow of orange which lights up all eight of my tentacles.

I stare.

That’s not possible.

There’s only one reason a kraken male glows, and it’s wrapped up with a whole lot of mystical bullshit. I mean, the whole fated mate thing is most likely bullshit anyway. Some biological remnant of something we’ve long since evolved away from.

She turns to leave, and I can’t stop my tentacles from reaching out to stop her.

“Don’t go! At least let me make you something to go. On the house. Unless it’s the food. Unless that’s the reason you’re crying.” I grimace. Then I remind myself she hasn’t tasted it yet.

Her mouth drops open. “Oh, no. Please don’t think that. No, it’s just…I got some unexpected news.” Her lip trembles again and I half expect more tears. “S-some bad news and I’m not coping very well right now. It’s not you at all. Your restaurant I mean.” She flushes.

There’s a pause. I don’t know what to say and she still hasn’t left. This is awkward as fuck. I’m hardly the guy you’d go to if you want comfort. I used to be OK with people, I guess. I remember I had friends. These days most people in town avoid me, except my brothers. They’re the only ones I socialize with.

“I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression.”

I frown. I’m trying to work out what she means.

“I’m not doing a post this week. I was actually supposed to be on vacation—” Her lip wobbles, and I have the urge to pull her into my arms again. I don’t of course.

“Oh. OK.”

I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I was hoping this would be the big break I’ve been waiting for.

There’s another pause.

“But I can! I mean you’ve probably already started making the food, haven’t you? And I’m sure it’s lovely.”

I scowl. “I don’t want you to write a review if you haven’t eaten it. I’m not trying to guilt my way into a good review.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t think that. You know what? How about I just go back to my table.” She shifts awkwardly and I feel like a dick.

“Hey,” I soften my voice. “I’m sorry. You’re having a rough night, and I get that. Believe me. What about we forget the whole review thing and I just cook you dinner. I promise you the snapper is amazing.”

She nods. “Your restaurant is beautiful. And everything smells delicious.”

“The snapper I’m cooking you. Fish of the day, right?”