Selene's Pov
The cafe is closed on Mondays, but when Bastien and I arrive the lights are already on and the scent of roasting meat is emanating from the kitchen. My stomach rumbles in reply, and I look up at my mate in confusion, “you gave someone my keys?”
His lip quirks, “Just Donavon.”
I should have guessed. Donavon has always been a wonderful chef, and he takes every opportunity he can get to invent new dishes and recipes.
“Oh,” I relax, calling out a hello to the Beta.
A disembodied voice returns my greeting, and then Donavon’s head pops around the corner, his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair pulled into a ponytail. “Dinner is just about ready – ten more minutes and I’ll be out of your hair.”
I from, feeling uncomfortable that the older man should be waiting on us.
