It felt big.
It felt one step from terrifying.
She caught her breath starting to quicken and her eyes were already searching for an exit.
No.
She was going to do this. She wasn’t going to shift. She wasn’t going to be weird.
Well, not too weird.
She let Jenny take her hand and lead her down the white gravel path to the back entrance of the restaurant.
Chapter 14
Conall was at the restaurant at six, dressed in a suit and tie.
His assistant had packed his clothing, and every tie she had packed was a Christmas monstrosity. He was wearing the least objectionable, with muted maroon poinsettias all over it. He tried not wearing the tie, but the result was not what he’d hoped for.
At least he wouldn’t have to look at it himself.
The waiter from lunch raised an eyebrow at his early arrival, but didn’t comment; his table was already prepared.
Fully half of the outside restaurant deck had been cleared for them. The other side was over-crowded with guests, clearly curious, but a barrier of chairless tables fenced them out quite effectively.
At the very end of the deck was a single table with two chairs, not too close to the railing.
Probably-not-Brick led him to the table, smirking mysteriously in return for every curious stare and probable-whisper that they got.
“Can I get you a drink?” the waiter offered.
Conall was sorely tempted, but shook his head. “Just water.”
The ice in his water glass had melted and been replaced several times by the time seven came and went. Conall began to wonder if his gazelle was going to be coming after all. Possibly-Brick could only give him a shrug when he looked pointedly at his watch.
Conall ignored the continued stares from the far side of the restaurant and buried himself in work, answering emails on his phone until nearly eight, when his elk gave a snort for attention.
His mate stood in the employee entrance, the waiter smiling at her side as he gestured her towards the table.
Conall felt his heart catch in his throat at the sight of her.
She wasn’t looking at the waiter, or at Conall.
She was looking at her feet.
Conall realized that they were bare, but not before he realized that she was the most stunning woman he had ever seen, and he had never wanted anything so much in his life.
In a graceful, effortless way, she was shifting in place like she was ready to bolt away at any given moment. With her hair pulled back away from her face, every perfect plane was exposed to the subdued restaurant lights. She had high, defined cheekbones, and a proud forehead over arched brows. She wasn’t short, but she was very slight, with perfectly-shaped, lanky legs.
She was wearing a sleeveless red dress laced tight across her torso that flowed silkily to her knees, and her arms were long and slim, hands nervous at the asymmetric hem of her dress.
Then she looked up and spotted him.
The idea of someone freezing had always been an imaginative metaphor, but his mate actually seemed to; she was suddenly and abruptly utterly motionless, staring at him with wide, dark, unblinking eyes from across the restaurant.
He wasn’t sure when she started moving, it was so incredibly slow and deliberate.
One foot padded in front of the other in a smooth, unbroken motion, and suddenly she was standing across the table from him.