The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1) by Ingrid Seymour (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

never talked about him? The man turned to face us with a smile as bright as a 100 Watt bulb.

“I just dropped another rib eye on the grill,” he said. “You should’ve let me know we would have company.”

Jake leaned close and gave him a man-hug, thumping him hard on the back. They were both the same height and build, and I swear, the old man’s profile looked as if someone had traced it to make a mold for Jake’s. The resemblance was uncanny.

“So this is the famous Toni,” the old man said, setting a large pronged fork next to the stove and walking in my direction with open arms. “It’s good to finally meet you.” He gave me a warm and welcoming hug.

His friendliness and words took me aback. From the sounds of it, Jake had told him a lot about me. I glanced at Jake over the man’s shoulder, but he wasn’t making eye contact. Instead, he busied himself with picking a cherry tomato from a salad bowl and popping it in his mouth.

“Um, it’s good to meet you too, Mr.... ” I didn’t know what to call him.

“My name is Walter, Walter Knight.” He continued smiling warmly and held me at arms’ length.

His eyes were deep brown and stared down into mine with an intense quality that seemed quite opposed to his gentle smile. He held me there for a long moment, his gaze drilling into mine. My eyelids fluttered as a strange thrill went through me. Something in my chest felt disarmed and analyzed by his stare as if my soul had been rendered naked for him to peruse, as if he could decipher my deepest secrets as easily as if I were a large-print, open book—no reading glasses needed. After a long moment, he finally pulled away, patting my shoulder and letting me go. I lurched forward and caught myself on the island.

What the hell was that? I wanted to demand, except I wasn’t so sure anything had happened, and the sense of disorientation was quickly dissolving.

I glanced up as Walter walked away, his back to me. Jake had a questioning look on his face and was pointedly staring at his grandfather. The old man shook his head slightly and a wave of disappointment seemed to wash over Jake’s face and body. His gaze lowered to the floor, and his shoulders fell as if he’d received a wealth of bad news.

Still dizzy, I filled my lungs with a deep inhale. My eyes roved around the kitchen searching for something, but I didn’t know what. What had just happened? We walked in... Jake’s grandfather introduced himself and then... he’d gone back to the stove. So why did I feel so weird? I tried hard to put a finger on the strange sensation, but it quickly dissipated, leaving me questioning my sanity.

Walter picked up the large fork and flipped the steaks. “Why don’t you two set the table outside? It’s a beautiful evening.”

“Actually, I need your help,” Jake said.

“Oh?” The old man gave his grandson a raised bushy eyebrow.

“Yeah, we need you to help us locate a vehicle. Can you put your people to the task?”

“Does this have anything to do with Stephen Erickson?”

Jake nodded.

“Good,” Walter said, causing a regiment of questions to march into my head.

Why was that good? As if he’d heard my question out loud, Walter elaborated.

“I don’t like to owe Ulfen any favors. If we find his son, that’ll wipe the slate clean, don’t you think?” he asked, sounding amused.

Jake smiled crookedly. “I’d say so.”

What favors? God, my head was going to explode with questions.

“Write down the details,” Walter pointed the fork toward a desk area that held a few notepads and pens in a wooden holder. “Then fetch me the phone and set the table as I asked, will ya?”

I was flabbergasted, to say the least. Jake had a rich grandfather that he’d never told me about, and apparently, the man had people who could potentially find kidnapped, rich heirs.

Jake jotted down the information on a notepad and set a cordless phone, which he’d retrieved from the wall, on top of it. Then, he walked to a cupboard and started pulling out plates and wine glasses. From a drawer, he withdrew cloth napkins and silverware. I helped him with the latter and walked through a set of French doors and onto a covered patio.

A huge, manicured yard extended past the patio. A bottom-lit, kidney-shaped pool sat in the middle of the backyard. Up-lit trees and bushes created a boundary that extended about forty feet in every direction. Flowerbeds overflowed with seasonal blooms, leaving me no doubt that Clyde spent many hours landscaping to keep things looking tiptop.

Out on the covered patio, Jake and I set an intricately designed, wrought iron table with fancy dinnerware. Jake moved so fast, I didn't have a chance to even form any questions before he was headed back to the kitchen.

“Why don’t you let Toni pick a bottle of wine to go with dinner?” Walter said.

“Sure. C’mon.” Jake gestured for me to follow.

A moment later, we walked through a heavy oak door and descended a wide stone staircase into a semi-dark wine cellar. The temperature dropped several degrees as we reached the bottom of the stairs. The room’s dim lighting brought a calm to all of my senses.

I frowned at the rows and rows of wooden shelving, replete with bottles of wine. There had to be a fortune stored here. More than Rosalina and I had made during our entire lives.

“Um, Jake, I don’t know anything about wine and what goes with what. Can you pick?”

“Of course.” He walked down the line of shelves then took a right and disappeared.

I followed him, walking leisurely as I admired the abundance. I found Jake frowning at a dusty bottle and reading the label.

“You don’t know what you’re doing either, do you?” I asked, amused.

“Not really.” He glanced over at me. “Google it. See what goes with red meat?”

I pulled