Dinner was busy as usual, and there were a healthy number of bookings, but they didn’t need to turn away any walk-ins yet. Frankie had just escorted another one of their regulars to their table, so she busied herself checking on the reservations list. Everything looked all right so far, and it looked like another good night for them.
“Table for one, please.”
“Just a moment, sir, I’ll see—” Her heart jumped in her throat as she stared up into familiar gold-green eyes. “You.” Her wolf stood at attention, paws tapping eagerly as it detected his presence.
Ransom’s mouth slowly spread into a sensuous smile. “Hello, Isabelle.” His gaze lazily dropped to her lips, then to her bust, then lower still to the rest of her body. “I have to say, this is a good look on you.”
His previous words the last time they spoke came back to her—about not working and spending her trust fund. Asshole. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “Did you come to make fun of my job again? Pardon my French, but fuck off.”
He looked taken aback. “I’m sorry about that remark the other night,” he said in a repentant tone. “But I was surprised. When we met, you weren’t exactly—”
“What do you want?” No way was she going to talk about what happened in the past.
“Like I said, I want a table.”
“We don’t have any tables,” she shot back. “We’re full for the night.”
A brow lifted as he glanced behind her. “You’re telling me there’s not one table available?”
“Yes.”
“And what if I’m willing to wait?”
She crossed her arms under her chest. “You’d be waiting a very long time.” A hundred years, when I’m dead and turned to dust.
“Isabelle, is everything all right?”
Her spine stiffened as she heard her mother come up from behind. “Everything’s fine,” she said curtly. “Nothing to worry about here.”
Frankie turned to Ransom. “Good evening, sir, are you being helped tonight?”
“Actually—”
“Actually, he was just leaving.” She stared daggers at him, hoping he would get the message.
Ransom, however, ignored her and turned to Frankie. “Good evening. You must be Isabelle’s older sister,” he drawled, charm dripping from his tone.
Her mother’s lips twisted wryly. “My, aren’t you … something. Are you Isabelle’s friend?”
“Yes,” he said.
“No,” she denied at the same time.
Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “Have we met before? You look … familiar.”
“He has one of those faces,” Isabelle said quickly. A bead of sweat formed at her temple. First it was Jared yesterday and now her mother. If Ransom stayed any longer, the entire tri-state area might see the resemblance between him and Evan.
“I came here the other night as a guest of the Alpha,” he began. “And I enjoyed the food so much, I wanted to come back again. It’s the best Italian food I’ve ever had.”
She shot him a dirty look, but he didn’t seem to care as her mother practically glowed at the compliment.
“You must be the Lone Wolf.” Mama’s voice lowered. “My son, that is, the Alpha, told me all about you last night. He said you saved everyone by allowing the mage to stab you with the dagger.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You have my utmost gratitude. How can we ever repay you for what you did?”
“I don’t need any payment, Mrs. Anderson,” he said. “But a table would be nice.”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation. “You can have our best table. We just had a cancellation. But please, call me Frankie. And you are …?”
“Ransom, Mrs.—I mean, Frankie.” A smug smile spread across his face. “I’m glad to hear you have a table for me. Isabelle told me that you were booked for the night, and there were none available.”
“None available? Why would she say—” Dark brows that had been drawn into a frown suddenly rose as her eyes widened. Her head ping-ponged from Isabelle to Ransom and back to Isabelle again, then her lips pursed, as if she was trying to stop a smile from forming. “Let me show you to your table, Ransom.” Grabbing a menu from the stand, she motioned for Ransom to go ahead of her. As she walked away, she swung her head back to Isabelle and gave her that ‘we’re-going-to-have-a-chat-when-I-come-back’ look.
Oh, brother. She buried her face in her hands. Would it be immature if she just walked out and caught an Uber home? Something about Mama’s expression made Isabelle uneasy. This night was probably about to get worse.
“Isabelle!”
Her mother’s voice made her start, and she whipped around. “What?”
“Did you just try to send that young man away by telling him we were all booked up?” Her mother cocked her head to the side, hands planted on her hips.
“Uh … it’s not what you think.”
Her mouth turned up at the corners. “Do you remember that story I told you kids a while back? About when your papa was pursuing me, and how he kept coming back to the restaurant, no matter how bad I treated him?”
“What are you talking about?” She glared at her mother, but the excited expression on her face made her freeze. Oh no. Oh hell no.
“Ransom’s single and never been married,” Frankie said. “And he says he likes kids.”
“Mama!” How the hell had her mother learned all that in the thirty seconds it took to show Ransom to his table?
“Don’t you think he’s hot? And handsome? Those eyes …” She actually looked dreamy. “He’s got that bad boy look down.”
“Argh! Mama, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“He must be interested in you,” she reasoned. “Why else would he come back?”
Her mother’s mental
