My mate

There was a chill in the air and Aspen used that as an excuse to keep the windows rolled up. Smushed in the tiny excuse for a back seat, the scent of Dante surrounded me completely. I’d been right earlier—he was mine.

But Clarissa was mine.

One of them was mine, and I needed to figure it out before my beast had enough and decided to mark both of them.

“How did you hear about this place?” Grant asked as we pulled into the parking lot where it was set up.

“How have you not heard about it?” Aspen replied and then found us a parking spot.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from the truck, but a few dozen kinds of grilled cheese sandwiches weren’t it. They even had dessert grilled cheese made on sliced cinnamon buns. It sounded horrible, but the star next to it indicated it was one of the sandwiches featured

on television when they won the Food Truck Master Fork competition two years back.

Humans were weird.

The aroma of the buttery, cheesy goodness saved me from the torture that was being