Chapter 3
LIZA
“Any better?” Adam eyed me and reached out as if he were going to touch me. At the last second, he pulled his hand back. “Your head, that is.”
My tray teetered on the edge of the counter as I supported it with my hip.
“The medicine’s helping some, but my head’s still pounding.
” For a few minutes, earlier, I’d kept one eye closed to block out some of the light I thought might have been contributing to the pain, but then I rammed my hip into the corner of a prep table.
Keeping both eyes open was optimum for my safety.
I’d been so busy managing the preparations for the lunar mate ceremony, I hadn’t realized just how much pressure I was under.
I wasn’t eating well—a bite here and there from an hours-old sandwich—nor was I sleeping well.
I was too detail-centric about this to manage more than a few hours at a time.
Three hours of sleep wasn’t enough for anyone, especially someone who’d been hired to cater the most important event of the year.
To put the cherry on top of my stress sundae, three members of my kitchen staff had called in sick with colds.
It was that time of year, inconvenient as it was for me.
Now, not only did I have to oversee and manage every aspect of the evening, but I also had to dress like a waitress and serve the guests.
I’d started as a server, so it wasn’t out of my realm, but definitely not preferred.
“I’ve never seen so many shifters gathered in one place.
” Piling my tray full of appetizers, I glanced at my staff, counted heads, made sure I was covered, and that everyone had an assignment.
They were keeping up, even though we were still short two staff members.
I made a mental note to do something nice for them once the event was over and we could relax.
Assuming, of course, we were able to pull it off and I didn’t have to worry about finding a new career.
“I saw a couple connecting for the first time.” Adam giggled like he’d never seen anything of the sort before.
“It was like some kind of fairytale moment. They saw each other across the room, their eyes locked, and some invisible magnetism pulled them toward one another. Fucking magic.” He shook his head. “Lucky bastards.”
“I’d like a little bit of that magic to make it through this dinner.” I rolled my eyes because I was seeing the promised land, and it looked like one of those SleepMagic mattresses with a down pillow and blanket. “We can fawn and ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ later. Let’s get back to work.”
“Some of these guys are looking so goddamn good tonight. Men sure look good in tuxedoes.” Sabrina, my best friend, walked into the kitchen, slapped her tray on a stainless-steel prep table, then fanned herself with a napkin.
She’d been serving hors d’oeuvres, and now needed another tray.
Fortunately, there were several already plated under the portable heat lamps.
She was my best waitress—probably the best waitress I’d ever employed—so I was more than grateful she was able to work the ceremony with me.
“Oh, yeah?” I shrugged because I had yet to leave the kitchen. “I haven’t noticed.” And I certainly hadn’t had time to gawk at the attendees. Tuxedoed or not.
Sabrina lifted a new serving tray from the counter and arranged the plates to her liking.
“Are you kidding me? You have such tunnel vision.” She shook her head and sighed, like my not noticing was a personal affront to her.
“How in the name of lightning and thunder could you not see the magnificent and majestically tight asses accentuated by snug fitting slacks and missing jackets? You might need an eye check, woman.”
I chortled. If there was one thing for which Sabrina had developed a fond appreciation—more, a passion—it was the male physique.
“I’m not blind, Brina, just busy. There’s a difference.
” I could definitely appreciate a well-rounded, tight male ass as well as the next girl.
I just didn’t have time to do it often or to spend a lot of time discussing it.
“Well, in that case, I can assume you didn’t see Future Alpha Ty, either?” This time she fanned herself with a hand. Unfortunately for Derek, another server, the hand belonged to him. He jerked away and shook his head.
I gave her my usual blank look. “Nope. Wouldn’t know him if I saw him.”
That was the truth. I’d never met him in person or even seen him at a distance. Maybe I’d seen a grainy picture in a newspaper or something at some point, but I could have passed Tyson Keller on the street and would never have known.
“Oh, Liza, he is divine. You can’t miss him.
He’s the one all the women are staring at.
Hoping for. Wishing for. Probably praying for.
” Sabrina tucked her short, blonde hair behind her ear.
“He’s tall with black hair, and he has the deepest gray eyes I’ve ever seen.
Gucci himself probably fit that suit to Ty’s body, which is grossly unfair to those of us who can’t get close enough to lick all those acres of luscious muscles. ”
I wrinkled my nose and squinted at her. “Lickable muscles? Doesn’t ring a bell. Or maybe we don’t find the same things attractive. Otherwise, I would’ve noticed him.”
“Baby, if you don’t find Ty attractive, you have to be blinder than I thought.
He’s a dark-haired Jensen Ackles He’s decadent.
Like silky caramel and chocolate.” She made a show of licking her lips.
“Definitely edible.” Then her grin morphed into something that could only be described as naughty. “Biteable at least.”
I’d never met Ty and hadn’t even been in close proximity to him or his family until I met Persephone. We didn’t go to school together since he was a good ten years older than me. Plus, we certainly didn’t run in the same circles. Ever.
Even during the full moon runs, the pack was segregated. The high class ran together while others had their own cliques and did their own thing.
I wasn’t one for pack runs, anyway. For whatever reason, I’d never felt the call of the moon like everyone else around me. This was another of the prime examples that highlighted my differences from the other shifters, and another reason why I was alone.
But lickable muscles, a biteable ass? It piqued my curiosity, and I wondered if he was as ethereal as others had made him out to be. Since I was here, I could probably catch a glimpse.
It had been said before, I couldn’t really remember where, that when Tyson Keller walked into a room, his aura was like its own entity—something that could be felt by everyone in attendance.
I supposed I’d get my chance to find out since I’d be serving the dining room all night, but I couldn’t afford to be distracted by tight pants and a nice ass. Not when I was up to my eyeballs in mushroom caps and grilled peach chicken.
I didn’t want to grumble at her, but this all had to go well.
My livelihood was at stake. “Sabrina, maybe less gossiping and more serving?” I quickly finished filling my own tray and moved toward the door.
“We can debrief and drool where appropriate after dinner. Right now, getting this food out to those tables in a timely fashion is the only thing in the entire world that matters to me.”
My business was on the line. It would take one dropped fork, a misfolded napkin, the slightest screw-up at all to turn Persephone against me, and, therefore, the entire upper echelon of society.
My business would go to hell, as would my life and any prospect of having one from this day forward.
I was not about to let that happen. “Let’s go, ladies and gents. ”
With a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the formal dining room. I was ready to serve the guests with grace and confidence. I was about to be the best damn waitress they’d ever seen.
A gentle murmur of conversation competed with the string quartet playing in the corner. Every eligible shifter lucky enough to have received an invitation from Persephone was in attendance. No one would dare decline such a prominent request from the queen of the pack. The queen of the entire area.
And show up, they had. In their best suits, ornate dresses with shoes—oh, the shoes—looking like they had stepped out of a fashion magazine.
I took a quick glance at my drab uniform and wished for a moment that I had the opportunity to play dress up like this, with the hair and the nails and the shoes. Then I remembered how much time and effort that always ended up taking and scrapped the idea completely.
I smiled graciously every time a guest complimented the food. It happened often. “Thank you.” I never really knew what else to say. Probably, they weren’t looking for much more out of me, either. I was the help. I was supposed to blend in with the table linens and wallpaper.
One of my regular catering clients nodded and took a sip of her wine. “This salmon is delicious, Liza.”
I smiled at her. She was always so kind and complimentary. I often thought I could serve her canned tuna on a cracker, and she would love it, but the salmon was always a particular favorite. “It’s one of my favored recipes,” I replied. “It’s locally sourced and marinated for twenty-four hours.”
Locally sourced was the new in and hip thing, but I always tried to shop locally.
Murmured compliments circled the table, and the husband of one of my other regular clients added, “Please, do let the chef know that I particularly enjoy the way the flavors meld together so perfectly.”
His wife slapped him on the shoulder, looked at me, and rolled her eyes. “Pardon Jeffrey. He’s so obtuse about the help these days.” I was the help. She looked at the shoulder she’d just slapped, laid an elegant hand on his shoulder, then hissed, “She’s the chef, you idiot.”
Oh, damn. I only wanted to serve the food, not cause marital strife.