The Matchstick Grill (The Feminine Mesquite Book 4)

by Sable Sylvan

  There was Herb, big and broad, leading his side of the team, which right now consisted of his second-in-command, the beta, Clove, and his gamma, Sage, who had a deep black streak of fur in his shift.

  They were playing against Mace, whose fur matched his neon lime green hair, which meant there was a bear on the field that looked like a puppet or fantasy creation rather than real live bear. On Mace’s team was Basil, his shaggy ivory shift’s fur stained with streaks of brown.

  Cayenne watched as they played, and when Basil turned her way and made eye contact with her, she waved. He waved back and, distracted, gave Sage the opportunity to steal the ball from him. Cayenne laughed and shooed Basil before going back to painting.

  She was painting scenes of a country she had a new interest in…Norway. The steep fjords and crashing waves of Basil’s homeland didn’t seem as scary on canvas, and she could practically feel the cool sea breeze against her skin…although what she was really feeling was the air conditioning unit.

  * * *

  Monday came about, and Cayenne and Basil went to the restaurant supply shop and the grocery store before heading to the restaurant. Both Cayenne and Basil went to the kitchen, with Cayenne helping Basil, as Basil was the expert on churrasco. Today’s lunch was going to be very special indeed.

  As the rest of the Quincy-Scoville Clan arrived, Cayenne greeted them and offered them glasses of virgin and non-virgin peach batida, made with Brazil’s national alcohol, cachaça. The cocktails had a milkshake-like consistency, made with peach juice, coconut milk, ice, and sugar, with people adding as much or as little alcohol as they wanted. Of course, Savina and Mace both did shots of cachaça, to Alice and Herb’s dismay.

  Cayenne went to the back to check on the meat. Basil was grilling the meat, but he’d taken off his shirt while she’d been out of the room.

  “Hey, ETA on the meat?” asked Cayenne.

  “Oh, hey,” said Basil, turning before remembering he was shirtless. “Shiz. Sorry.”

  “I won’t look,” said Cayenne, turning away. “Anything I can carry out?”

  “It’s fine, you can look,” said Basil. “No use hiding it. I’m weird about it. Sorry.”

  Cayenne opened her eyes and turned to look at Basil’s chest.

  Broad, firm, strong, barrel-like. She knew those words described Basil…but she had no idea that his mark would look like that.

  Cayenne had seen the marks that her siblings’ mates had. They were all relatively ornate. However, Basil’s mark was simple. She had not seen him shirtless before because he had always disrobed and shifted in the privacy of the house’s locker rooms which opened to the backyard (standard for wealthy shifters who wanted to save their expensive clothes before shifting).

  On Basil’s mark was a mark that was dark, brown and black, shaped like a nut. It looked like an egg-shaped point of wood, slightly pointed on each end.

  “That’s something,” said Cayenne.

  “Right?” said Basil. “It’s not much for me to go on.”

  “Really?” asked Cayenne.

  “Really,” said Basil. “Maybe it means I don’t have anyone, given there’s no mark, just this withered…thing.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t have anyone?” asked Cayenne.

  “On my eighteenth birthday…my grandfather’s mate mark disappeared,” said Basil. “Both he and I had this mark instead. I don’t know what it means, but it’s why I don’t go home to Oslo when I can avoid it. After all, this showed up on the ten-year anniversary of my grandmother’s death.” Basil put his shirt on and covered the mark back up.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Cayenne.

  “It’s fine,” said Basil. “But I’d prefer to drop the subject. I’m nervous enough about the meat as it is.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Cayenne. “So, you need any help?”

  “Nope,” said Basil. “I’m gonna serve it authentically, so you just need to explain to people what to do.”

  “Got it,” said Cayenne.

  She headed back out to the table.

  “Hey, everyone,” said Cayenne. “The way this is gonna work is you will point at what part of the meat you want, and Basil will serve you a slice. Use your tongs to transfer the meat from his plate to yours, and keep your tongs clean on the saucers provided. There’s going to be a bunch of stuff to try.”

  “Got it,” said Savina, and Cayenne took her seat.

  Basil came out with the first skewer of meat. It was a juicy set of filet mignon cuts of steak, each spiced with a special sauce of cayenne and garlic. Each person at the table took a piece of meat and Basil went out to nurse the next skewer of meat before bringing it back out to serve people some bacon-wrapped pork sausages. Next was a buffalo wing inspired set of chicken drumsticks, and finally, there were lamb chops and pork chops.

  At the end of the meal, another vote was held. This time, it wasn’t anonymous. Everyone unanimously approved the choice in cuisine.

  “You two have two weeks of hard work ahead of you,” said Herb.

  “Two weeks?” said Basil, looking to Cayenne.

  “That’s not a lot of time,” said Cayenne.

  “I know, but we need this restaurant to open in time for the Fallowedirt Flood Day Festival,” said Alice.

  “The what now?” asked Basil.

  “There’s only ever been one big flood in the town’s history,” explained Cayenne. “It was a freak incident in the early 20th century. That’s why we have a festival to celebrate beating back the waters. People come from all over. It’d be a huge night for business. I guess we would’ve had more time to prep if we hadn’t frikkin’ fought for so long, but what’s done is done.”

  “One more thing,” said Alice. “What sauce did you use? I don’t recognize it.”

  “It’s a sauce that we developed for the meat,” said Basil. “We wanted something special. It’s cayenne and garlic. They go together like fated mates.”

  “Like fated mates…” said Herb. “That gives me an idea.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Alice.

  “Cayenne, remember you asked us to stop selling to other restaurants so you could have an exclusive claim on the sauces?” asked Herb. “Well…what if we bottled this sauce and sold it, but the restaurant is the only commercial establishment that uses it? We won’t sell the sauce to any other restaurants. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. We can make compromises…but it looks like I don’t have to tell you two that.”

  “That sounds perfect,” said Cayenne. “But what will you call it?”

  “Basil, you said it yourself,” said Alice. “Cayenne and garlic go together like fated mates…so this will be our ‘Fated Mate Sauce.’”

  “‘Fated Mate Sauce,’” said Basil. “I like the sound of that.”

  “So do I,” admitted Cayenne.

  Everyone finished up their food, and it was time for Cayenne and Basil to get to work on figuring out the restaurant decor, staffing, and all that jazz. They only had half the work day left, but every hour would need to be well spent if this restaurant was going to be a success.

  Now, the only thing left was for Cayenne and Basil to get the restaurant ready for its opening night…which would happen in two weeks. Was opening night going to be a bust, or would Cayenne and Basil be able to make this the best new restaurant opening in the summer, in all the tri-county area?

  Chapter Seven

  The next two weeks were filled with hustle and bustle. Cayenne handled decorating, marketing, and the front of the house. Basil handled the back of the house. After all, he was the churrasco expert. What with the restaurant opening with such short notice, it was hard for them to find any chefs experienced with churrasco, much less Brazilian cuisine, but what they did find was a set of the best dang barbecue enthusiasts in the tri-county area who loved meat and fire just as much as Basil. It was practically the only thing that these grizzled men had in common with the polished polar, but they worked well together in the kitche
n while Cayenne and her sisters worked on putting everything together in the front of the restaurant. It wasn’t easy work. Walls were painted, paintings were hung, and hanging plants were placed on the hooks lining the restaurant’s veranda. The foyer was decked out with plush velvet sofas, and as they brushed the dust off an old antique hostess podium they’d found at a thrift store the next town over, the restaurant was starting to come together.

  It was Friday afternoon. Cayenne hung up the phone. She’d taken a short break to take a call from the sheriff’s office. Last week, the wolves that had hassled her had been apprehended a few counties over. Basil and Cayenne had driven over, identified the perps, and left. That ended that…but there was still a restaurant opening to get to.

  It was nearly five in the evening, so it was nearly time for them to open the doors. The Scoville Brothers were getting into their unorthodox waiters’ uniforms. The Quincy Sisters had already gotten changed into some pretty but sensible hostess outfits before the Scovilles had gotten there.

  “You wanna come open up with me?” asked Cayenne, peeking her head in at Basil and his gaggle of grill masters.

  “I’m sure I can spare a minute,” said Basil, walking with Cayenne to the front of the restaurant. He got the door for her, and she led him outside to see the outside of the restaurant. This was the last part of the restaurant that Cayenne, Savina, and Addison had decorated.

  “It looks good,” said Basil. “But…what did you end up naming it?”

  “You really can’t guess?” asked Cayenne, putting a hand on her hip. “You do the honors, then.” She passed Basil the string that was attached to the piece of cloth that covered up the sign.

  Basil tugged, and when he saw what the name was, he couldn’t help but shake his head and smile.

  “The Matchstick Grill?” asked Basil. “No frikkin’ way. Kai…that’s perfect.”

  “You like it?” asked Cayenne, looking up at the sign with Basil, her arms crossed over her chest as she tilted her head. The sign was simple, wooden, with the words ‘The Matchstick’ burned into the wood and the word ‘Grill’ done up in what looked like black metal or glass.

  “There’s one last thing,” said Cayenne. She passed Basil a remote that had a single button on it, and of course, Basil hit the red button.

  The sign came to life. The word ‘Grill’ glowed bright orange and neon before shifting to yellow and red. The sign looked neon, but it was a fancy LED set up.

  “In all my years, I don’t think I’ve seen something that frikkin’ cool,” said Basil. “But we can’t hang out outside forever. After all, we have some meat to serve.”

  “Yeah…if we get any customers,” said Cayenne, looking around. Main Street was bustling with activity, but Cayenne felt like a ghost given that nobody seemed to notice her or her restaurant…although Alice and Herb, who were running a booth and selling hot sauce a block away, were surrounded by enthralled masses. Cayenne sighed. She’d been expecting a line for the restaurant, but so far, nada. Savina came out the door and stood with Cayenne.

  “You nervous?” asked Savina.

  “Super nervous,” admitted Cayenne. “I’m worried we won’t get any frikkin’ business tonight. I thought what with the festival that we’d have more business…but everyone is more interested in the food trucks down there.” Cayenne motioned down the street.

  “You can go inside if you want,” said Cayenne.

  “After what happened the last time we let you hang out here alone? Girl, please,” said Savina. “And here. Hoodie. Don’t freeze.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Cayenne. She put on her hoodie and sat down on the bench. Savina sat next to her, and they watched people go by.

  “You know what?” asked Savina. “I just realized something. You spent so much time marketing online…that you may have forgotten who we should invite.”

  “Who?” asked Cayenne.

  “My friend Penny,” said Savina. “It’s her frikkin’ birthday. I’ll pay for her dinner.”

  “Don’t,” said Cayenne. “Penny…that’s the one who has the photography blog, right?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a blog, exactly, but she has a few thousand followers,” said Savina. “That’s nothing in a big city, but here, that practically makes her royalty.”

  “Can you invite her over, tell her the Quincy Sisters want to give her a special birthday present?” asked Cayenne. “After all, turning nineteen is special, right?”

  “Why do I feel like you have a plan?” asked Savina.

  “Because I frikkin’ do,” said Cayenne with a grin.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, an SUV pulled up and a gaggle of girls who barely looked like they were old enough to be high school graduates spilled out of the vehicle. Savina greeted them and seated them.

  “So, your sister and a polar bear shifter came up with the idea for this restaurant?” asked Penny.

  “Kinda,” said Savina. “It’s a Brazilian thing, but would you prefer that I bore you with the details…or are you ready for some hot hunks of meat?”

  “Bring out the meat,” said Penny.

  Cayenne was watching the scene from the salad bar, where she was making sure all the dishes were still looking fresh. Would Penny think that the secret plan that she’d come up with along with Basil was abso-frikkin’-lutely corny, or would they get some much-needed press from the social media diva?

  Penny had to cover her mouth as Mace, Basil, Sage, and even Clove came out of the kitchen.

  Each of the polar bear shifters looked similar. They were all blonds with blue eyes who gave off a total bear shifter vibe…but there was something else that made them look like something out of a fantasy. It wasn’t just that they were carrying big skewers of meat, or that the skewers were designed, by a local blacksmith, to look like ancient Viking swords. It was the fact that the polars were wearing Viking outfits, too.

  Each polar bear shifter had on leather grieves, sleeves that only went from the elbow to the wrist, leaving their bulging upper arm muscles out for the ogling. On the bottom, they had tight leather pants that looked like they belonged on members of a motorcycle club or a glam metal band, along with some medieval looking leather boots. On the top, they all wore different things. While Basil and Clove were bare-chested, Mace and Sage wore vests. Mace’s was leather while Sage’s was fur. This had been planned. Even Mace, the total daredevil Scoville Brother, was shy about his mark, and Sage’s chest bore Addison’s name, so it wouldn’t exactly make him a popular shifter among the single ladies.

  “Welcome to the meat market, princess,” said Mace. Out of the corner of her eye, Cayenne saw Savina wince. Maybe her suspicions about the nature of Savina and Mace’s relationship was true…

  “Which one of our hot, salty meat swords do you want in your mouth?” asked Sage. Addison had known Sage would need to flirt to move meat, so she wasn’t jealous. This was all business, baby.

  “Savina…this is too frikkin’ cool,” said Penny. “Can I take pics and share them?”

  “Take pics, videos…or a filet mignon cooked to perfection over our fire pit,” said Clove.

  Penny and her party ate up and enjoyed the bevy of grilled meats and nearly went through half a bottle of the ‘Fated Mate Sauce.’ A bottle was on every table.

  The restaurant might’ve been named after a fairy tale, but it was Penny who lit The Matchstick Grill up that night. First, a few of her friends stopped by, because they thought there was no frikkin’ way that shirtless Viking polars with swords covered in delicious meat were something that wasn’t straight out of Bear Buns, the famous shifters-only strip club. Word spread like wildfire, like a greased pig through a county fair, and as the restaurant became busier, more and more people came out to try what the Quincy and Scoville kids had to offer.

  The grill masters were cooking up a storm. The Scovilles were serving roasted meat and raw sex appeal as fast as they could. The Quincy Sisters were seating people, restocking the salad bar, and of cour
se, taking cash and credit as fast as they could. There were hired bartenders, but they needed more staff…so Herb pulled a few strings and soon, workers from the factory and warehouse were ready to get their hands dirty for triple their standard pay, given they had arrived on such short notice. Still, the restaurant was understaffed, and everyone was doing the work of two people.

  Cayenne sat down to take a breather and grab a glass of sports drink from the employee fridge. She had worked up a sweat and an appetite. She never would’ve thought that the restaurant would’ve done so well on its opening night, but there was no denying their register had a drawer full of cash, and the customers had bellies full of delicious roasted meat that had left quite the impression.

  Everything had come together. The girls had thought it was odd that she’d gone with a fancy Nordic castle inspired aesthetic for the restaurant, based on the photos of the Scoville Manor and some pictures of reproductions of Viking long halls. They’d thought there was no way that shirtless men wearing practically nothing, dressed like their Viking ancestors, carrying around swords of meat, would be a fit for Fallowedirt, but she’d proved them wrong…and everyone was glad she had.

  Cayenne got back up and took over the hostess station so that Addison could take her breather. It was going to be a heck of a long night, but it was worth it already, because now, Cayenne felt as if she was truly part of…The Feminine Mesquite.

  Chapter Eight

  “We did it!” shouted Alice as she popped a bottle of bubbly alongside Herb. They poured two glasses of champagne to Cayenne and Basil. Technically, they shouldn’t have been drinking, but it was a special occasion.