Page 6 of Jacked-up Mate (Alphas of Whisper Grove #1)
Foster
I found my mate and was rejected by him in a nano second. My wolf demanded to be freed to chase him, but I couldn’t let him do that. If the alpha wanted to be with me, he’d have stuck around and maybe said hello. Introduced himself. Suggested we move in together and start a life.
Maybe that was excessive, but in many cases, that would be just how it went. My dads met and mated and created me all in one night. I’d never thought of myself as the hottest omega in town but ugly enough to scare off my fated mate? Never. Talk about a confidence bender.
As my potential mate disappeared into the crowd, I turned away and started for the diner. The Bubbling Cauldron had become a refuge of sorts, a place I looked forward to going to each day, especially since I’d stopped making crazy mistakes at the grill.
When I started, I broke more eggs than successfully cooked them, burned bacon, charred burgers, and accidentally served some alarmingly pink chicken.
Tonight, I stepped into the kitchen, tied on my apron, and grabbed the first order as the guy getting off shift raced out the door hoping to get to Autumn Square in time to have some fun.
“No rush!” I called after him. “Things were just gearing up when I left.” There would be a lot of things more geared to adults as the evening wore on.
Live music, dancing, and a beer garden to name a few.
Had my mate—or the one who obviously did not want to be my mate—left the square, or was he still there somewhere? I would never know.
It was hard to get my head in the game tonight, though. An image of the man who my wolf was sure was our mate, lingered in my head. His eyes meeting mine in complete understanding before he raced away. Was I really that repulsive?
I flipped burgers and handled the fryer, coming close to burning myself a couple of times because my mind was not where it should be.
Jeb’s training had emphasized how dangerous a kitchen could be when the cook did not completely focus on the tasks at hand.
A searingly hot griddle, vats of hot oil, sharp knives…
a recipe for disaster. But how could I stop thinking about him?
Coming up with plans to get him to at least speak with me. Get to know me and see that Fate knew what she was doing. More than willing to take things one step at a time, but how could I just shrug away an encounter with the one person who could fulfill me?
The diner was unusually empty tonight, but that was to be expected when almost everyone in town plus a lot of visitors would be snacking at the festival.
The next order was for one of our triple patty specials topped with a sunny-side-up egg and chimichurri sauce.
I’d struggled with it at first, since it required an unbroken liquid yolk, but once I got it down, I took a lot of pride in the process.
When the diner bit into it, the golden yolk would coat the inside of the bun, so yummy and worth the effort to make it happen.
“Foster?” Chris poked his head into the pass-through. “Can I ask a favor of you?”
“Anything.” Hopefully something that would occupy my mind and keep me from dropping my spatula and abandoning the kitchen to go hunt for the alpha who clearly wasn’t interested in me. Maybe I’d do that tomorrow provided he was someone who lived in town and I had the day off.
“Tomorrow, we are short a server. I know it’s your day off, but if you could give us at least a few hours, I’d appreciate it.”
Chris was the reason I had the life I did.
Working hard, most days, but in a position I’d found surprisingly enjoyable.
He even encouraged me to develop my own dishes and was more than willing to put them on the menu once I’d perfected them.
My deep-fried brownie sundae was a popular treat among the late-night post-bar crowd.
“Chris, I’ve never waited tables here or anywhere before. Are you sure there isn’t someone who can do a better job?”
“Nobody who is available. You know the menu and have eaten in restaurants often enough. I think you can manage.”
“Okay, boss. If you say so. I’ll give it my best shot.”
Chris went back to meeting and greeting, which he often enjoyed doing, and I returned to making burgers and some of the breakfast foods that customers could order any time of the day or night.
As the hours passed, pancakes grew more popular.
I theorized that the customers believed they soaked up some of the alcohol they’d consumed, but I still did my best to make them beautiful with crispy edges and pillowy middles.
Every few minutes, I peeked out the pass-through with some vague hope that my mate would show up for a snack and I could try again to meet him.
But the evening passed without a sign of those beautiful eyes, and finally, as we finished cleaning the kitchen and shut the lights off, I had to admit he wasn’t coming in.
Please let him live in town. If I’d just missed my one chance for a happy life with my fated mate, I didn’t know what I’d do.
Leaving the diner, I went out of my way to pass Autumn Square, but the booths were closed down and there was nobody around.
So, I trudged home in a blue funk. Trying to tell myself tomorrow was another chance, and I wouldn’t be working the whole day, I grabbed a quart of vanilla fudge ripple from the freezer and took it with me into the bathtub where I consumed the whole thing.
It didn’t help much.
But I had a plan. Waiting tables would give me the opportunity to chat with people, and maybe someone could tell me my mate’s name and where to find him.
If not, as soon as I got off work, I’d go look for him.
I’d taken the high road tonight, not chasing him when he ran, but if we didn’t at least speak to one another, I’d never forgive myself.