Rosemary laughed. “That might work.”
GiGi admired her cousin, who had no fear and always said exactly what she was thinking and feeling. She was sure when Rosemary saw the man of her dreams, she would know it.
For GiGi, carrying around the secret family curse of being a shifter, diving into the dating pool was as murky as a swamp.
GiGi had given up any idea of a serious relationship a long time ago when she’d gotten married to her café.
“Married” was the word she jokingly used to refer to her work. The café had been her dream, and she was achieving it. Owning an eatery was not just a full-time job. She knew when she’d signed the lease on this building that for the next few years, until she would be able to hire a full-time manager she could trust, she would be eating, sleeping, breathing GiGi’s Café.
She instructed the driver to drop her off at the café rather than her house; there was always work to do. And she found herself not tired, and not looking forward to her empty house.
Chapter Two
Vann
I’m hungry, and in the best city in the world to fill my belly.
It’s not easy to work out a contract that allows me to come back home to New Orleans once a month to “check in on my flagship restaurant,” but if they want Vann West, this is the deal.
Neither the showrunners nor my manager need to know my restaurant runs itself just fine, and I barely check in at all these days. The only reason I come home once a month is so I can be with my pack on the full moon. If I have to live with this curse, I don’t want to be anywhere else when I wolf out.
It’s the safest thing to do — hunt as a pack — because when shifters don’t have clear memories of events that happen during their growly and furry times, things can get out of hand. The pack — Ash, Gavin, Bobby, Pen, and Ash’s dad, JB — all hunt together and keep each other safe.
At least, that’s the main reason I tell myself I keep returning home once a month to feed. My gut tells me there are other reasons, other scents I’m more and more in need of all the time.
Adults like to talk about how nice it feels to go home to their mom’s or grandmother’s house on Christmas or other special occasions. That no matter how old they get, it feels like going back to the womb. Some say the comfort makes them feel like they’re nine years old again. New Orleans is something like that.
But it’s more than a cozy feeling. It’s that womb-like feeling times a thousand. Something or someone else keeps bringing me back, and it’s not just the pack.
It’s probably nothing more than food, I tell myself. There’s never been a quicker way to my heart…
Chapter Three
GiGi
Rosemary works fast when she sets her mind to something. Can’t believe I’m sitting here planning the menu for her engagement party only a few weeks since she set her sites on finding a mate.
Working late as always after an extra-busy night at her cafe, GiGi was extra tired from the crop of unusually ornery customers. She chalked it up to the full moon.
Realizing she hadn’t stood up and moved around in a while, she decided to haul out the trash. Once outside, one of her regular back-alley customers padded up toward her in the alleyway. His fur smelled a bit rank, but his gorgeous eyes made her smile. She preferred this character over one or two of her regulars, even though he didn’t pay and was an equally lousy tipper.
“Hi there, Buster. Hungry?” GiGi had already set aside scraps for her furry friend. She knelt in front of the hulking gray creature and set down a bowl of the leftover giblets from the night’s menu. “Not much of that stuff left for you tonight, Buster. The hipster foodies are eating organs these days if you can believe it.”
Buster ignored her as he chowed down but allowed her to stroke his neck and speak to him as he gobbled up the innards. She gazed at his silvery fur, his massive size, and contemplated the full moon. She entertained herself with the idea that the creature was here for her—that maybe, in some fantasy world, this was one of those wolf shifters, like Ash. And that maybe under all that fur lurked a person who was attached to her for more than food.
But no, that was highly unlikely. No shifter in his right mind would allow himself to hunt around human beings. It wasn’t safe. Just an unusually large stray, she told herself.
“I hope you like your new bowl. I know it’s crazy and you’re not my pet—you’re a wild animal and incapable of being anyone’s pet—but I couldn’t help myself from going into that cute little pet store down the street.”
She looked behind her, but it sounded as if her sous chef was still trying to get the rusty bucket of a dishwasher to work. The last thing GiGi needed was for a pregnant employee to peek outside and have the liver scared out of her at the sight of a wolf at the back door.
GiGi was barely making enough to cover the expense of having a full-time sous chef, but breaking even was the way it was going to be for the foreseeable future. Hopefully, Uncle Lionel’s investment would hold out until she started turning a profit. GiGi had not wanted to accept his offer in the first place, but as an unknown in the business and fresh out of culinary school, it was too tempting to pass up. So she’d left her job as a line cook and took the leap.
“No niece of mine is gonna spend her best years waiting for her big break,” he’d
