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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.
I smiled at poor Jeffrey. “It’s quite all right. I had to fill in for some of my staff this evening.” I placed another appetizer on the table.
Then it was time to become part of the room again and not someone who socialized with the guests. I was grateful they were enjoying the meal. As I moved away from the table and on to another to finish delivering what was on my tray, I remained silent, but watched as some of the staff floated to their tables. So far, everything was running effortlessly. Thank goodness.
I turned and walked back to the kitchen, waited until I was through the swinging door, then let out a loud breath before walking to the table where the trays were lined up. I would have to start plating more, but right now, I needed to get back to business. “I need more appetizers.” Like anyone was paying attention to me, I added, “Everyone seems happy with the salmon.”
“Of course, they’re happy with it.” Adam grinned and loaded my tray for me. “You’re the badass bitch behind it all. The woman behind the salmon. And the beef rolls, the lava cake… it’s all you, girl.” He snapped his fingers and winked at me.
I loved Adam. I could always depend on his unfiltered commentary to lift my spirits. His words propelled me forward.
Adam came to work in a fantastic mood, and when I was busy doing other things, he kept the flow in sync. “Tell me, boss lady, are you feeling the pull… the ting of desire in your chest? Is your fated mate sitting in the dining room waiting for you and his filet mignon?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid, Adam. I don’t believe that I’m someone’s fated mate any more than I believe I’m queen of the seven kingdoms and destined to marry Jon Snow.” I loaded up my tray with more appetizers. “There’s no scientific data to back up the theory of this…” I lowered my voice to little more than a stage whisper. “Bullshit.”
Adam shook his head and laughed. “You mean you haven’t read the Harvard studies?” His tone held such a note of scandal, I couldn’t tell if he was serious. “Liza, there is a world of evidence—real science shit—that suggests fated mates exist. You just have to open your mind and look beyond the surface.”
“Adam, the only surface I want to look beyond is the one that ends this evening with enough success that I don’t have to worry about booking future jobs.” Once again, I rolled my eyes. “All of this fated-mate malarkey is just what it is. I apologize if Harvard finds that offensive.”
He laughed. “Yeah, your invitation to audit their results is gonna be rescinded with an attitude like that.” He continued plating appetizers and shrugged a shoulder. “All I’m saying is, don’t let fear keep you from finding true love.” He hadn’t really said that at all, but I appreciated the sentiment.
“Ah, true love. Another fairy tale we can debate later.” I turned away and grabbed my tray. “And I very much appreciate your worldly advice, Adam. But right now, I’m focused on making sure everyone is happy with their meals tonight. That’s all that matters to me at this moment.”
“Got it, boss.” He made to drag his gloved hand across the front of his mouth but stopped and looked back at the plate he hadn’t quite finished yet. He didn’t need me to tell him his job. He did it and could’ve probably done it while he match-made me with half the guests on the list. But he also knew how to read a room, and this wasn’t the time for such conversation when I was as stressed as I’d ever been.
“All right, here we go.” I carefully balanced the large tray on my left shoulder and moved into the dining hall. I’d done this a thousand times before. Carried trays. Walked. Nothing about it was abnormal.
