Forks, Flames, and Felonies

Vera

We stumble into the restaurant like a parade no one asked for. The hostess takes one look at us, four tipsy grandmas and a white-haired alpha who looks like he’s been dragged out of a crypt, and I swear she’s about to say we’re full, sorry. Gail beats her to it, flashing her most respectable smile. “Table for five, sweetheart. Somewhere sturdy.”

They seat us in the corner, probably hoping we