The Taste of Home

Chapter 42

The weeks leading up to the preview night for the human-centric portion of the menu passed in a blur of spice-dusted hands and discarded recipes. Taste testing the new dishes left the human staff sick of protein, and even the chupacabras grumbled over having to sample so many attempts a night.

Not that there was much else they could do. Customers came at a trickle even on their busier evenings, leaving the chefs pouring their energy into trying to resuscitate the dying restaurant.

Despite everything, the scent of salsa still brought a smile to Miguel's face. "Remind me to thank your mom for letting us use her recipe."

"She's always more than happy to share that one," Alejandro said with a laugh. His fingers lingered over Miguel's as they held down the blender's lid, caressing his scales. "If she let us use the Morales family recipe, then things would be really serious. The day she gives you that is the day she takes us ring shopping."

"Which won't be far off at this rate." Yolanda snorted. "You can barely keep your hands off each other for five minutes. How are you going to make it through tonight's service?"

"By daydreaming about each other the whole time, obviously!" Ralph cackled at the blush darkening Alejandro's cheeks before schooling his expression into a tightlipped smile. "But seriously, be careful how you act around the customers tonight, okay? They're not exactly used to this lovey-dovey shit."

"Guess we'd better get it out of our systems." Alejandro wrapped his arms around Miguel, his embrace as warm as his gaze. "Remember what we talked about, mi amor. Even if things get ugly..."

"We're in this together." Miguel thrummed as he held Alejandro close. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Moonbeam."

"Good." He chuckled nervously. "We'd better pray mamá thinks we did an okay job with the salsa, or else things will get ugly in a heartbeat."

They handled the chupacabras-only section first. Taking up the restaurant's interior with Luis guarding the entrance, this section would be much harder for any potential troublemakers to reach. Most of the pack leaders who had bothered to show up sat near the back, quietly discussing pack affairs amongst themselves and occasionally casting apprehensive glances at the humans dining outside.

They were Miguel's chance to get the acknowledgement he needed to finally make his pack official.

Narrowed eyes stared at Miguel as he set down their salsa. "What in the stars' name is that?" Ironwood Pack's leader bared her fangs at the thick red mixture.

"It's salsa my partner and I made." Miguel fidgeted with the hem of his apron. The fabric was the closest thing he had to Alejandro's hand, a comfort he longed for as he forced himself to hold the leader's gaze. "We're planning to start our own pack."

"Could she not come out to tell us this herself?" A murmur of agreement rumbled around the table.

"He is tending to some of the other tables." Miguel fought to keep his spines flat, swallowing a growl. He'd known they were bound to assume he couldn't lead a pack, but that didn't make their words hurt less. Still, he faced them with a smile he hoped would do his Moonbeam justice. "Salsa is one of our favorite dishes, so we would be honored if you would try it."

Ironwood Pack's leader leaned over to look at Miguel's leg, no longer in a brace but still as crooked as ever. "You're the one Martha was snarling about the other day, aren't you?" She dipped her head and took a chip between her claws, her lips curling into a grimace. "I suppose it's only fair we try what you have brought us before we decide if you are worthy to lead a pack."