by Abby Knox
GiGi realized that when Rosemary said “your people,” she assumed that GiGi’s little struggling café had a staff of dozens of servers and extra help waiting in the wings just for big events. The truth was, GiGi had her sous chef, a line cook, about three servers, one host that doubled as a wait staff manager, and an outsourced cleaning crew that came once a week.
As Rosemary shouted her ideas for the wedding feast over the loud music and revelry, GiGi smiled and nodded while anxiously doing acrobatic logistics and math in her head.
She knew she was going to throw herself into some extra debt for one big splashy event, but hopefully, the payoff would be worth it. Word of mouth that rippled around from a DuChamp wedding was invaluable.
She’d just have to manage her time very closely. And hire more people. But the cakes? That would be 100 percent her. Nobody was going to touch a DuChamps wedding cake but GiGi herself. Cake and pastry were her heart and soul.
Suddenly, there was a mood shift in the party. Rosemary turned, and GiGi followed her gaze. The hum of activity was coming from the rooftop’s doorway leading to the stairwell. GiGi heard excited shouts and claps and even some whistles.
“Like Moses parting the Red Sea,” she remarked, landing on no one’s ears over the din of the partiers. And then she got a view of flowing blond locks glinting under the torchlights. Vann West was in the house.
A celebrity was in their midst. GiGi had served a few celebrities at her café and had no problem treating them all like regular, non-famous people. They seemed to prefer it. One particularly huge, household-name movie star, in New Orleans filming on location, had personally asked to speak to the chef—GiGi—to compliment her on her shrimp and grits, and to thank the staff for not making a fuss and drawing attention.
So when the cocky chef West appeared in all his glory—all his attention-craving, crowd-loving glory—GiGi rolled her eyes so hard she nearly pulled a muscle.
That guy is in town? Talk about stealing a couple’s thunder at their engagement party.
GiGi glared at the over-built showboating barbecue-grill man. What was he doing, crashing her cousin’s party?
She looked around, and everyone, including Ash, seemed to be over the moon at his appearance. He got away with crashing parties because he was male, blond, and spent most of his time cashing checks and yammering on TV about underrated street food. Street food that would immediately become inaccessible to the locals of the city in which West was filming because rich tourists would flock there after seeing his Instagram posts and streaming episodes. Not that GiGi had any strong opinions either way on the man.
She watched as Ash embraced him like a brother and realized the real reason the celebrity chef was here. He seemed to be legitimately friends with Ash. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t crashing a party. Still, he was drawing attention to himself, and not hating it at all.
Yeah, I’m a tiny bit jealous, GiGi admitted to herself as she watched the man sign an autograph here, pose for a selfie there. She would love to have the life he led. She longed to go to faraway places and eat interesting food and climb mountains and sleep on the beach and collect a paycheck from some anonymous subsidiary property management company that ran a restaurant with her name on it. Maybe her acne would clear up if she spent a few days outside of her kitchen. Maybe her hair would be in healthier condition if she would come in an hour later because she needed to do a deep conditioning. Living life the way some celebrities did seemed to be good for his skin and hair. He sort of glowed. Everywhere. From his hair to his blue eyes to his beard, to the sun-kissed chest she could see peeking out of the partially unbuttoned shirt.
“Oh, slap my mama, I heard he might be coming, but I didn’t believe it. Can you believe that’s one of Ash’s oldest friends?” Rosemary was ecstatic.
“I didn’t know,” GiGi replied, trying to look enthused.
The crowd that gathered around the blond behemoth finally calmed down. A little chick with giant, immovable boobs and a Barbie-thin waist was hanging on his every word and giggling at what GiGi assumed could not possibly have been that funny.
GiGi tried to focus on refilling her tray of appetizers. As she worked her way through the crowd, intentionally in the opposite direction of the visiting celebrity, Rosemary followed her, chattering away excitedly.
When she paused to refill her tray, GiGi couldn’t help but glance back at the celebrity chef. She knew she shouldn’t, but it was difficult to not look at him. Hell, it was difficult to not flat-out stare at him.
And when she did, to her surprise, he was glancing right back at her. She must have been seeing things.
She looked away to add some shrimp toast onto her tray and checked herself. He’s not stealing glances at you, GiGi. He’s probably bored silly from getting waylaid by the Barbie doll and casting around for anyone to rescue him. Or, more likely, looking around for his next one-night stand. Yes, she’d heard stories about his conquests, too. He was a known ladies’ man. If he was staring at her, she shouldn’t take it as a compliment. He flirted with everyone with a pulse. At least, that’s what the producers of his show made it look like.
As she made her way around the crowd, Rosemary still chattering about Ash, Pen, Uncle Lionel, wedding planning, and table arrangements, GiGi’s skin began to prickle. Hairs stood up on her arm; she noticed it as she moved through the crowd. If she was not mistaken, everywhere she went, someone was watching her. The inner panther was sensing an intruder. Possibly another predator.
She turned to check her surroundings but didn’t see the man now. Likely he was off already making out with some other party guest in a dark corner somewhere. That was the story she told herself. She continued to busy herself, seeing to the needs of the guests.
Her Aunt Betsy startled her out of her racing thoughts about the annoying Chef West. “GiGi, your food is inspired, my dear.” GiGi snapped out of her fugue state and smiled, thanked her aunt, took her champagne glass from her hand, and replaced it with a full one. Smiling and nodding, though she could not hear anything else Betsy was saying, she turned around to find others who needed refills. There he was, only about ten feet away now, and blatantly staring at her. GiGi let herself pause. She let him look. She stared back. But only for a moment.
She told herself the thrill she felt was only because he was a fascinating, aggravating, enviable character. A charmer. A larger-than-life character. But that’s it. There’s no there, there. Now smile, nod, and be on your way, GiGi.
But there was something there. She couldn’t look away, not for a few beats. He had something oddly familiar in his eyes. Of course, he was familiar; you couldn’t avoid his face on social media or on TV even if you tried. But the familiarity went deeper, and she knew it. He was looking at her like he knew her, like he was confused by her, like she was a puzzle he was trying to piece together. And like she was a pork shoulder he wanted to sink his teeth into.
If GiGi was not mistaken, this world-traveling slab of too-perfect manhood was undressing her with his eyes. Her. GiGi.
Well, forget that. No way was she going to end up being one of his nightly conquests.
She raised her chin in defiance and veered away from him.
Over the next fifteen minutes, his eyes followed GiGi everywhere she went. Every time she caught him looking, his piercing blue eyes seemed to become more and more intense. Even when someone else was fawning over him, trying to keep his attention, his eyes were on her. The panther inside her felt like a cat with its claws lodged in a screen door. She was stuck at this party; meanwhile, a seeming predator was after her.
GiGi worked, smiled, did her job, all the while trying to tame the panicking feline inside of her. It didn’t approve of the primal energy that the celebrity chef was sending in her direction. Her long-dormant nether regions were waking up under all this unwelcome attention.
It’s not about sex. He probably smells bacon on you; everyone who watches TV knows how much the man loves bacon.
As time passed
and this strange behavior of his continued, she felt herself blushing, and despite her feelings about the idea of this man, felt herself becoming aroused.
“Aroused” was putting it mildly. Just being in the same room with a stare like that, she was afraid her panties were about to become sentient and remove themselves on their own.
Come on, GiGi, don’t be an idiot. He’s not staring at you. He’s probably hungry and staring at this platter of appetizers you’re holding.
She might not like the guy’s TV persona, but GiGi never turned away any creature who was hungry. Maybe she could just, like, offer him some food and see if that made his unsettling staring diminish any.
Sure, that had to be it. He was just hungry. Food almost always improved the way people behaved. Feed the beast, and he won’t take up any more real estate in your head.
Chapter Five
Vann
Whatever Ash and Rosemary were chattering about, Vann didn’t care.
Well, he cared insomuch as Ash was his friend. And he cared that he was here to help his pack family celebrate Ash’s engagement.
What he didn’t care about was whatever Rosemary was saying about her father not bothering to show up, and something about a weird vibe between Rosemary and his other packmate, Pen.
He didn’t care about drama. Vann only wanted everyone to stop talking so he could talk to GiGi alone.
As it was, he could barely get her to look him straight in the eye, even as she stood there, looking adorably awkward amid this four-way conversation with Vann, Rosemary, and Ash. Vann knew that look. He’d been there. As a chef, he’d enjoyed ruling the kitchen. Despite being the star on his own show, he didn’t enjoy the limelight. GiGi had the look of someone who would rather be doing her job … or doing her job as a way to get away from Vann. Which made her all the more appealing to the wolf at that moment.
The subject turned to wedding catering, then, and Vann’s ears perked up. Of course, they needed to discuss the food. Vann had hastily agreed to cater the nuptials as part of his gift to the happy couple.
“GiGi is my dearest cousin and one of my oldest friends. She’s going to be doing the cakes and all the catering for the wedding. I see you’re enjoying her food already,” Rosemary commented, her hand on GiGi’s arm, firmly keeping GiGi from bolting away.
Ash blanched and clarified, “Um, baby, I apologize. In my haste, I accepted Vann’s offer to have his people do the food. I feel like a complete idiot.”
Vann could see that GiGi would not allow her face to show the hurt she felt. He could smell it on her, and he cursed his heightened beastly senses for intruding on her. He was no mind reader, but sometimes it felt like that. When someone had their feelings hurt, or anger triggered, or past trauma brought up, the chemicals people released into the air gave everything away.
He stared down at GiGi with empathy as she did her best to be diplomatic. “Oh, well, surely we can come to some kind of compromise that will make everyone happy,” GiGi said.
She’s right, this is simple, Vann thought. Thinking he’d come up with the perfect solution, he offered, “GiGi, why don’t you take the job? You need it more than I do.”
GiGi looked stung by his words, and he realized what that sounded like. He should have thought that through. How would he feel if someone had said that to him a few years ago, when he was struggling to make it in the business? Offended and patronized. “That came out wrong…”
GiGi put up her hand and pasted on a concrete smile. “No, no, it’s fine. I mean when you have Vann West at your disposal, how could you not accept his offer to cater your wedding? You’d be insane not to.”
Yikes. He had hurt her pride and taken away a gig. He felt like a total piece of shit. Rosemary broke in then. “Look. How about this? GiGi, we’ll have the rehearsal dinner at your café, and then of course you’ll do the cake.”
Ash nodded. “Sounds like a fair compromise to me,” he said.
Vann felt like such an ass. He could tell GiGi was still not happy, but she was evidently going to roll with it.
“I’ll let GiGi call it.”
“It’s fine,” she said, her face unreadable.
“Perfect,” Vann said. “I’m not a dessert man, by any stretch.”
GiGi looked up at him and smirked. “You perhaps haven’t tasted my desserts yet.”
Not yet.
Something then passed between them. It was subtle, like the slight crackle of electricity that makes one’s hair stand on end. He felt something like recognition in her eyes, yet she was trying to place him. The feeling only lasted a second, but he could smell her fear, apprehension, and curiosity about him. Pure physical awareness of him. It was heavier than the chip on her shoulder. And then it vanished. She looked away, but he was not finished looking. He didn’t know that he would ever be finished looking at her, chasing her scent, tracking her every move.
Rosemary got distracted by some cousins of hers who’d shown up to the party, and Ash had wandered off to speak to their pack mates Gavin and Bobby. GiGi slow blinked at Vann with feline energy that both excited and pleased the wolf, and then she went back to work: smiling at other people, serving other people.
The primal streak—whether it was human or beast, he didn’t know—ached when she walked away. The need to keep his eyes on her at all times was overwhelming.
Something had shifted inside Vann, and he fell into it, relinquishing control. Wolf shifters don’t track humans, he thought. Except when…oh shit. There it is. There she is. His mate.
Mine.
He followed her as she worked, never allowing more than two people to fill the distance between himself and GiGi. Always keeping her scent in his nostrils, for the pleasure and the necessity of it.
He’d worked all his life to create his own destiny, to take the world by storm. And he had. And now here he was, imprinting on a woman he hadn’t even touched.
Something else got stirred up and was scrambling his brain. Memories. He knew her from somewhere.
On some level, Vann knew what this meant. Wolves rarely retained full memories of what they did and what they saw when they shifted. But sometimes those memories could show up out of nowhere, like the frayed edges of a vivid dream that disappears the moment you wake up, but then some word or picture triggers it again the next day.
That was the feeling he was having when looking at GiGi. Watching her walk around and talk to other people in that infernal white jacket. Like something mixed with déjà vu and muscle memory.
He had the feeling that they’d shared some physical touch before. He needed to get closer to enhance the memory. Touch her hair. Touch the cute butt that moved under all those layers, her cheeks round like two ripe peaches ready to be plucked.
Vann knew his behavior at this party was at best impolite. He was here for Ash, to celebrate his pack mate’s engagement—to a panther shifter, no less. Not to find someone to bed. Rosemary’s family was already a handful, or so Vann gathered from the stories Ash told him. No need for the wolf pack to double down on the drama by mating with another one of the DuChamp clan.
But then again, a little fun never hurt anybody. His most recent hunt on the night of the full moon had been a good night. The wolf was sated. Three days since that night, and he was feeling more human than beast. Damn her, she’s making the animal hungry again.
And overprotective. She needed to sit down for a minute; she should be enjoying herself, letting someone else manage the show. He could pick up the phone right now and summon a hoard of his wait staff to relieve her. And then he would swoop in and make her sit down, enjoy a foot massage. He would cook for her, feed her, and then feed himself on her. All fucking night. In the morning he would make her breakfast in bed and start all over again. It would be the best vacation he’d ever taken.
Vann watched how she easily spoke to a soon-to-be drunk Betsy. Accepted compliments from friends of the wolf clan with grace. However, whenever the people turned their attention away from her—o
r she had assumed they had—her face changed. Her gregariousness changed to anxiety. He could smell the social anxiety on her from ten feet away. She was a million miles away in her mind.
Where is it you want to go, Peaches?
Vann sipped his drink as he watched her move back and forth through the crowd. He hated that the crowd parted for him wherever he went. With her, they acted as if she were just anybody, and not a goddess that glowed from the inside out.
How he wanted to take her a million miles away, wherever she wanted to go. He wanted to take her shopping at the most exclusive dress shops in the world and let her pick anything she wanted. He wanted to show her how to have more fun at parties. And he wanted to tear off that oversized, slightly frayed, obviously hand-me-down chef jacket and make her wear something that hugged her curves. He wanted to see her ass, her belly, her breasts, all the wonderful curves that belonged to a woman. His woman.
The wolf was barely contained now and tracked her for several minutes, until finally, her energy changed. She was softening. Tenderizing, as weird as it sounds.
Or maybe she could sense he was hungry, because she was walking toward him carrying a platter of something that smelled delicious.
GiGi looked at him and smiled. My God, he would do anything just to have this woman smile at him like that and bring him food every day.
“Enjoying your time with the unwashed masses?” she said, but not in a resentful or haughty kind of way.
“I’m enjoying the view more than anything else,” he said.
GiGi glanced over at the view of Bourbon Street. “It’s a great spot for a party. Our Ash has excellent taste in real estate.”
“Don’t play coy, Peaches. I mean I enjoy looking at you.”
He winked at GiGi as he picked up a pig in a blanket.
GiGi smirked. “Let me stop you right there. I don’t do one-night stands.”
Then the taste of her appetizers hit him, and he thought he might die. “Oh good god. Do you have a patent for this, because this needs to be trademarked immediately.”
