The Alpha's Mate
“Not this morning, can’t say that I have. Sorry, sweetheart.”
“He’s probably sleeping in,” Jasper grumbles.
“Now that you mention the Whismore boys, though,” the waitress says, tapping her lip with a cracked ballpoint pen, “you sure look familiar.”
“Thanks,” Jasper mumbles.
“Aren’t you one of them? A Whismore? From the families that lived up on the mountain?”
“Yeah,” Jasper confesses. “I’m Jasper Whismore.”
“Jasper! That’s right!” The waitress drops her pen into her stained apron pocket so she can clap Jasper on the shoulder. “I haven’t seen you since you were knee high to a grasshopper! Where have you been, kiddo?”
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