by Sable Sylvan
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 course, 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 Forty-One
“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.
“Cheers,” said Cayenne, tapping her glass against Basil’s flute. “Alice, you were right. Working together…”
“…We got more done in two weeks than we could’ve in a summer spent apart,” said Basil.
“Thank you so much for giving us a chance to turn things around,” said Cayenne.
“Thanks for turning them around,” said Herb. “I’ve never seen such a crowded restaurant opening. Those people came hungry and left happy. That’s all we needed you two to do, and you did it. Part theme park, part strip club, all barbecue…it’s a combination that doesn’t seem like it makes sense, but those things are complementary, just like cayenne and garlic…and I suppose, Cayenne and Basil.”
Cayenne blushed. What the heck was her eldest brother-in-law insinuating? Alice winked at her, too. Cayenne took another sip at the flute of champagne and went back to toasting. Everyone toasted back and forth until they had to pour themselves more champagne, and Cayenne opted out of a second glass because she was tired. She headed upstairs after saying goodnight to everyone, but there was a second set of footsteps tracing her path.
Cayenne turned. Basil was there, at the bottom of the staircase. He had changed into normal clothes during closing to help clean up, and his white tailored shirt was rolled up to his elbows, stained up and down with hot sauce, stains that were like streaks of paint against a canvas…spicy paint against a canvas that was all too sweet.
“Hey, stranger,” said Basil, walking up to Cayenne.
“Hey,” said Cayenne softly. “Basil…thank you so much for making tonight a success.”
“We made tonight a success,” corrected Basil. “You…and me.”
Basil took Cayenne’s hand and for a second, she was shocked. His hands always surprised her. It wasn’t just the marks on his palms that marked him as a shifter. Every time he touched her, it was like she’d been burned by a stove that she couldn’t help but want to touch again, a burning sensation that felt good and right.
“Kai,” said Basil softly, pushing Cayenne’s hair off her shoulder as her ponytail holder had fallen out at the celebration party. “What was it you wanted to ask me that night?”
“I wanted…a goodnight kiss,” said Cayenne softly, looking up at Basil.
“Then I’m sorry this is over two weeks late,” said Basil, moving his arms to Cayenne’s waist. As Cayenne wrapped her arms around Basil’s shoulders, Basil leaned into the kiss and pressed his lips against Cayenne’s lips. A bolt of lightning, like a spark from Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, pounding the Norwegian fjords into their chiseled sides, shocked Basil before their lips had quite touched, but it didn’t make him pull away. He kept pushing forward, meeting her soft lips with his and taking her lower lip into his mouth.
“Ahem,” came a voice.
The couple quickly pulled apart. A familiar face with gray hair and an arm full of towels was walking toward them.
“You know you have bedrooms, yes?” asked Lauren, who kept walking.
“Well…you heard the lady,” said Basil, and he reached down to pick Cayenne up.
Cayenne wrapped her arms around Basil. What the heck? Why was he carrying her…and why did she not actually give a darn whether or not he had a reason to be?
Basil opened the door to his room. Cayenne had never seen it before. She had never been invited in before. The room was not what Cayenne had expected. She had expected ornate furnishings, not items that looked like they were gathered from flea markets from around the world and reupholstered by hand. She didn’t expect a wall of pictures he’d taken and the places he’d been, nor did she expect travel posters on the other wall, the retro ones from the Age of Aviation.
“You like what you see?” asked Basil.
“Not yet,” said Cayenne. Basil put her down on his bed, and Cayenne reached up to undo Basil’s buttons.
“Stop,” said Basil.
“Stop?” asked Cayenne, pulling her hand away. “Why?”
“Cayenne…you know what will happen if we start this,” said Basil. “Are you ready for a new chapter to start in your life, a chapter that will either introduce me as your partner-in-crime for the rest of the story…or leave you looking for your prince in shining armor and more than ready to kiss a few frogs?”
“Basil, I want you,” said Cayenne. “I can’t promise that we’re fated mates, but…I’ve been keeping a secret from you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I was planning on telling you tomorrow, after breakfast, just like that talk we had the night you saved me, the night we saved each other.”
Cayenne took in a deep breath and then moved her hands to her top. She was still wearing the shirt she’d worn to help clean up the restaurant. She pulled the sleeve aside, and what Basil saw surprised him.
It was a peach, half of a peach, the way a peach would look if it had been cut in two and photographed. It had every color that belonged on a peach, from shades of peachy pink to yellow and orange and even purple…but something was missing.
“Where’s the peach pit?” asked Basil.
“I think you know where,” said Cayenne, reaching up to touch Basil’s mark with the tips of her fingers.
“It’s just a coincidence, right?” asked Basil.
“No frikkin’ way,” said Cayenne. “You’re a polar, but more importantly, you’re a shifter. You know that when Fate’s involved, coincidences go out the window.”
“Why do you have a peach tattoo?” asked Basil.
“I moved to Georgia for college, but I picked that college because it’s close to my grandma’s house,” explained Cayenne. “However…my first year, she insisted that I at least give living on campus a chance. Believe it or not, I didn’t want to. I was more like Addison, bookish and shy, back then. My grandma decided that we had to do something abso-frikkin’-lutely crazy to get me to feel that I could take on anything…and I have a fear of needles, so tattoos were the obvious choice.”
“You mean your grandma has the same tat?” asked Basil.
“Yeah, and my mom nearly had a heart attack,” said Cayenne. “My grandma and I even got the date of our tattoos written underneath the tats. If you do the math, you can see I was seventeen when I got the tat. Boy, was my mom mad.” Cayenne pulled the shirt down a little more, revealing the black script numbers underneath her tattoo.
Basil read the numbers and didn’t say a thing. He just looked and took a deep breath.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cayenne.
“I think I might be hallucinating,” said Basil. “Cayenne…the date you got your tattoo was the date I got my mate mark. That was my eighteenth birthday.”
“It was?” asked Cayenne. “Then Basil…you know I’m yours. Just claim me already.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Basil put his
leg between Cayenne’s thighs, and she instinctively rode his leg, rubbing her clit against his firm thigh while he felt her curves beneath his hands for the first time. Basil had fantasized about Cayenne’s body since he’d first laid eyes on her. Her curves felt even better than they did in his imagination, where they had either been too firm or too soft. In real life, they were just right.
“You like me?” asked Cayenne.
“Of course,” said Basil, brushing a hand against Cayenne’s upper thigh and sending a chill down his lover’s spine. “How couldn’t I adore this body? Bigger’s better, baby, and I’m a frikkin’ shifter. You’re practically petite compared to me…but as long as I get to feel those birthing hips and feeding tits of yours, I’ll let it slide.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” asked Cayenne, taking Basil’s face in hers and continuing to kiss him deeply, exploring his mouth with her tongue. She had wanted to wipe Basil’s smug grins off his face before, but she had never imagined that the only way to do that was to kiss him…which meant putting a smile on her face.
Cayenne hiked her leg up, pulling Basil closer so she could feel his firm body above hers. He was built like a brick firehouse, a brick firehouse that could pull off an Italian designer suit, but a brick firehouse nonetheless. His broad, firm shoulders were bigger than those of any man she’d ever been with and did make her feel tiny underneath him. However, she wasn’t scared of Basil. She had never been. The only fear she’d had to conquer was her fear of feeling.
She couldn’t believe it. Basil, whose body she had had to force herself not to ogle, whose tousled boyish curly locks had always entranced her, whose attitude had simultaneously pissed her off and aroused her, was really on top of her and she was really in his room. He’d only ever been a room away, and just like the art studio, he’d practically always been there, waiting and ready.
“Am I making you get close, Kai?” whispered Basil huskily.
“I…I have to admit something,” said Cayenne shyly.