by Shelly Bell
“Don’t you dare!” I warned, pointing my finger at him. “I will not, will not be indebted to another person.”
“And if they hurt someone to prove a point?”
“I’ll get the money.”
“You don’t have any more of your power to sell!”
“I’LL FIGURE IT OUT!” My stomach chose that moment to growl. It was almost worse having eaten lunch. Usually at this time of night, I was comfortably lightheaded and noises had subsided to a dull ache.
I flinched as Mitch narrowed his eyes on me even more. He didn’t need Lycan hearing to hear my awkward bodily noises. “When’s the last time you ate?” He turned back to the grill and picked up his tongs, flipping the grilling meat.
“Bite me. I went out to lunch.” I’m not sure why I didn’t tell him Grayson was the one that took me out, but I wanted to keep it to myself, at least for now. There had been something special about it.
He clipped his sauce-covered tongs at me. “First off, you do not want me to bite you, I’d kill even you, sweetheart. And second, you cannot make it through the day on only toast and a sandwich. You’re eating before you go.”
I rolled my eyes and blew my bangs out of my face. “You will not spend any more money on me.”
“I’ll call Aurora if you’d like and ask her what she thinks.” I cringed. Being good friends with Mitch’s girlfriend was awesome...until you pissed her off. The wrath of an angry half-demon was not fun.
I threw my hands up in defeat. “Fine! But last time this week!”
Mitch nodded while plating an order and ringing a bell. “Third, you sent Lynch in for a job?”
To keep him safe. “What? You said he needed one.”
“Didn’t know you cared so much.”
I shrugged. “He tried to kill me on the bridge this morning, so clearly I’m now attracted to him.” My terrible taste in men was infamous. At least I’d had the sense to get rid of the green-haired acid dealer after a week.
Mitch’s momentarily passive face morphed back into raging beast immediately. “Lynch did what? That bast -”
“Calm down, puppy. He hit a patch of black ice on the bridge. I saw it coming and stopped the bike in time.”
Mitch shook his head and let out a breath, rotating his shoulders. “Sorry.”
“Mitch, is Zee here yet or should I call Jimmy to check on her? Her phone’s off and I’m worried.” A sweet southern voice called through the order window.
“Here and on my way out! Sorry Tiff!” I turned back to Mitch. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He cleared his throat and turned to flip over a burger on the large grill, “remember I need Halloween weekend off...” he trailed off uncomfortably.
“Mitchy, I’ve got every full moon, blue moon, blood moon, and super moon blocked off on your schedule for the next two years. And I’m still trying to get that potion figured out. You’re golden, my friend.”
“Don’t call me Mitchy. And actually, I’m more of a gray...”
I laughed. I blew him a kiss then pushed my way backwards through the double doors. “Hello gentlemen!” I crooned to the line of guys waiting at the bar. They cheered as I grabbed a nearby bottle and flipped it in the air and around my back, giving them an extra peak at my cleavage.
Dean, the day manager, pinched my ass as he passed the counter on to me. “You’re late, sugar!” Dean teased.
“Be nice!” Dean’s boyfriend Alex scolded, walking back toward the kitchen with a bucket full of dirty dishes. They had one of those sickeningly cute soul-mates-at-first-sight stories. Alex was the day kitchen manager and night busboy, and he’d saved my butt on more than one occasion and covered all of Mitch’s “vacations” without question. Dean kept the place in perfect order during the day and never really cared what time I trudged in at night. These men were essential to my survival.
“Not late until Raine hits her first chord!” I called. My other best un-dead friend, Raine, played some killer blues here five nights a week. Apparently playing all week at music school wasn’t enough. As if on cue, her first scale of the night rang through the air as I slammed the first beer onto the bar. “HA!” I exclaimed with a smile.
Raine caught my eye and winked, confirming my belief that she had been waiting for me. I blew her a kiss, causing the men around the bar to hoot. She was the opposite of me -long, white-blonde hair that faded to deep blue, sapphire eyes, a great rack, and a background in classical music and opera. Her voice was magical, her playing bewitching, and she was freaking hot.
“Sugar, that piece of meat you sent in earlier to earn all the tips?” Dean gestured to Grayson. “He’s shit. But he’s pretty. So assuming you can train him, he’ll rake it in like Tiffany.” We all split tips, which meant I hired the people who would get the best tips.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” I smiled.
“Why do you smell like roses? How did you hurt yourself this time?”
“I tripped and I’m fine. Now shoo! You’re interfering with my mojo!” With a laugh, Dean went to the back to roll silverware.
An hour into Raine’s set, the place settled down and the patrons switched from booze to brisket. My stomach growled as Mitch poured the barbeque sauce onto the grill. Later, I reminded myself. My hunger did not help my anger toward our new waiter. Sure he was sexy as hell, but the guy was not cut out for this place.
“Lynch! If we have to remake any food ‘cause it’s cold, it’s coming out of your tips!” I warned as he ran to the sideboard to get table eight’s order, which was up five minutes ago.
I threw tray after tray at Tiffany, my southern bell transplant with legs that could cure world hunger and a sugary accent to match. “Tiff, take the Bud, Coke, and tonic to table eight, potato wedges to four. Harry’s getting handsy, so watch your ass. It’s table ten’s anniversary so make sure to pay attention!”
Raine, noticing it was time to distract the customers from the wait, pulled out one of her sing-a-long standards. I smiled, my customers lifting their glasses and singing along. I loved this place.
The crash of glasses and a tray pulled me from my contentment. Alex ran over to where Grayson stood, glaring at the floor. I clenched my jaw and started remaking the drinks - all prissy, mixed ones of course - while the guys cleaned up the mess.
It was a good thing Grayson was so nice to look at, because he was the most infuriating waiter I had ever worked with. I mean, how hard was it to set the drinks down without spilling them? I had remade ten in the last hour. Ten. But somehow the girls still looked at him like they wanted to eat him up. Judging by the handfuls of dough he was depositing into the tip jar, he was single-handedly doubling our Wednesday night intake.
Clearly, this was his first time serving and tomorrow I’d have to put him as Tiffany’s shadow. It meant less tips but also less drink disasters, hopefully. Raine caught my eye and lifted her eyebrow before nodding to a bent over Grayson.
His butt was a work of art.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Tiffany rounded the bar and hip-bumped me. “Perusing the merchandise?” she teased. I huffed and walked to the other end of the bar to grab a fresh towel.
I would give anything to jump into my own ice bucket right now.
Chapter 7
Grayson
Customer service? Not my forte. At least my looks were bringing in some decent tips and I knew I looked good tonight. I could get away with forgetting Sorority Girl # 56’s diet Coke with light ice and two lemon wedges. I just needed to wink, lay on the charm, brush her shoulder, and she’d tip me even though I sucked.
Not that I needed the money. My parents had left us more than I knew what to do with. All my tips would be donated to the local animal shelter. I wished I could just give it all back to the staff to divide amongst them, but that would be too suspicious. After all, who took a job serving if they didn’t need cash?
Hazel threw back her head and laughed, sending a shard of lust straight through me. Sorority Girl # 56
’s diet slipped out of my hand and landed all over the table. Dammit. Alex was immediately at my side, cleaning up my mess. “Go get a refill, I’ve got this,” he directed.
I turned and cringed as I walked around the bar. No, cringing wasn’t manly. But every time I messed up I could feel Hazel’s eyes on me. Even if she didn’t witness the mistake, she knew. It’s not that the job was mentally challenging, although to be fair it was physically exhausting. It was the fact that my mind was elsewhere.
On Fenton.
On Loren.
On her.
If I didn’t stop sucking I wasn’t going to keep this job, which seemed to be the best way to get close to Hazel. Today was the first time we’d had one-on-one time, and I would give almost anything to have more. She was addictive.
“Lynch! Drinks out before the ice melts!” Hazel yelled from the bar.
“Yeah Lynch, get a move on!” Blake called from a small table near the bar. Hutch smacked the back of his head.
I bit back my retort and looped back to the bar. “Running a bar, not a coffee shop,” Hazel warned. “If you want to join a book club, Roasted is right down the street.” Even when she was yelling at me, I wanted to feel her pulling my hair.
I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to react to her sass, but it was clear she could see it in my eyes. The girl turned me inside out. Thankfully, my waist apron hid the evidence. I wanted to throw down my tray and walk out as much as I wanted to hoist her on the bar and have my way with her.
As much as I loved making love to beautiful women, it was not my style to use sex as a weapon. My mother had raised me right. And karma, well, she was a grade-A bitch. Unfortunately, I was running out of time and options. My new plan was to seduce Hazel tonight, then steal her power before Loren could even set foot into this postage-stamp-sized town. By that time I’d have her out of my system and could focus on getting my brother back.
Stealing a witch’s power took finesse. Each witch was different, their power held differently by their souls. Some were light and airy, easy to pluck. But I could tell you, after one look at this tattooed bombshell that her power was down and dirty - stuck in the cracks, and hard to get out.
She would fight.
I had to find out what made her tick, what her breaking point was without breaking her. And once I found her trigger, I could manipulate her, bend her to my will.
Of course, if anyone, including me, actually believed they could bend Hazel to do anything she didn’t want to do, they were a dumbass.
“LYNCH!” Hazel grabbed two bottles of water and thrust them into my hands. “Take these to Raine.”
Sealed bottles, something I could handle without spilling. “Will do.” I weaved my way through the tables and the miniscule empty space that doubled as a dance floor to the side of the stage. Raine motioned with her head for me to approach the piano.
Without her fingers missing a key, she looked at me and tilted her head sideways. “Boy, you’re going to be out on your ass soon if you don’t figure out a way to win Zee over. She’s a great boss, but she can’t stand bad work.”
“I know,” I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. “Any suggestions?”
“Besides learning to serve in the next five minutes?” I raised an eyebrow and she smiled. “Listen, she sent you in because you’re a hottie who can rake in the tips. Turn on the charm, make the ladies swoon, and you’re in. Then we’ll teach you how to serve.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing,” I defended.
“Hmmm...” Raine looked over at Hazel, who was glaring at me. Hazel bit her bottom lip and turned away, but a faint pink stain appeared around her pronounced collarbone.
I wanted to sink my teeth into that collarbone.
“Ah,” Raine smiled.
“What?” I asked, jolted back to reality.
“It’s her you need to make swoon. She’ll kill me if I tell you this, but boy, she’s not looked at a man the way she looks at you since I’ve known her. You be good to her, and she’ll be good to you right back.”
I stared at her for a long moment and I knew what I had to do. “Can you give me a really good four-four swing beat?”
“Am I not the best musician you know?” I raised my hands up in surrender. “What’s in your head, Lynch?”
“My mother is finally going to get her wish.” I gave her a dazzling smile and headed back to the bar.
On cue, Raine came to the end of her song. “This is a special request from our new guy, Grayson.” Her fingers went to work, playing an old crooner classic.
Hazel’s purple eyes met mine and I forgot to breathe at the mix of annoyance and confusion. She was so fun to make mad. “Lynch, take this to table 4,” she ordered, putting two drafts and an order of coleslaw on a tray.
I gave her a half smile. “No.”
She put her hands on her hips and widened her stance. “Excuse me?”
“I said, NO.” I spoke loud enough to draw the attention I was looking for. Forks froze halfway to mouths, conversations halted, and all eyes were on us. “Not until you dance with me.”
Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head and she folded her arms, adopting a defensive stance. “Not on your life, Lynch.”
I raised my eyebrow and looked around the bar. “What do you folks think? Should she dance with me?” Cheers and catcalls swirled around us.
“Honey, if you don’t dance with him, I will!” An older woman shouted from the back.
Hazel made no move to join me. So I did what any desperate man would do – I start moving my feet. And prayed I didn’t trip.
I knew how to dance. My mother had forced my brothers and me to take swing and ballroom dancing classes from the time we were able to walk until high school, when we’d flatly refused to dance ever again. She always said dancing would save our butts one day.
She wasn’t lying.
I gave a slow spin, making the nearby ladies very loudly swoon. I hoped they were drunk because I could’ve sworn someone grabbed my ass.
I reached my hand over the bar and waited for Hazel to take it. The customers started chanting her name and I could tell by her red face that if I didn’t pull this off I would be screwed six ways to Sunday. And not in the good way.
Mitch stuck his head out of the kitchen and looked over at us. His eyes bounced back and forth for a moment before Hazel shot him a warning glance. He muttered something and shook his head, ducking back into the kitchen. “Hazel, the song is going to be over soon,” I warned.
“Good!” she bit back.
“Naw, I’ll just keep going ‘til you dance, sweetheart,” Raine called from the stage. Hazel gave her a death glare before turning it on me, and it was terrifying. I wanted to take a step back, but I held my ground.
“Hazel, just dance with him or he’ll be impossible to live with!” Hutch called from a nearby table. I nodded in his direction and raised my eyebrows.
Letting the desperation to keep my job, to keep her alive, to save my brother color my voice, I asked her again. “Hazel. Please.”
She looked taken aback. She searched my eyes for a long moment before letting her crossed arms fall to her side and sighed. “Fine!”
Cheers drowned out her swearing as her hand wrapped around mine. And everything stopped. Fire burned in my veins, just short of painful. Her eyes widened and snapped to mine, proving she felt it, too.
I realized it was the first time we had ever really touched skin to skin. And god help me, I never wanted to stop. This was bad.
I led her around the bar and pulled her into me, hiding her reaction from anyone who could be watching. While it was common knowledge by the others in this town that she was a witch, no one knew about me. And I needed it to stay that way.
There was no din of clattering dinnerware, no smell of barbeque, no piano. It was just her and me alone on the minuscule dance floor. “Why do you feel like this?” she hissed after a twirl that brought her closer against me. I rocked our steps forward and back, dipp
ing her then bringing her up. She followed, staying pliable in my arms despite her clenched jaw.
“I knew your mother,” I whispered against her temple. The moment my lips touched her soft skin, I was consumed with a need to both rip away from her and bury myself in her at the same time. My DNA was warring with my desire.
I concentrated on taking deep breaths since tight pants would make it difficult to dance. Her spine went ramrod straight. I shook her arm. “Stay loose or you’ll hurt yourself,” I warned. She consciously obeyed, her brow furrowing as I led her through another spin.
“You’re one of us?” she whispered, searching my eyes.
No, I hunt people like you. I shrugged one shoulder, non-committal. “Something like that.” The music ended and the applause died, but we were still locked together, unable to pull away. “Thanks for the dance.”
She nodded, still dazed. Raine started a new song to distract the crowd. I jerked out of the trance and lead her back around the bar.
A chill ran down my spine only moments before I felt the text message. It was from my second phone. I froze. “Yo, Lynch!” I looked up at Hazel. “Take a break. You look like someone just kicked your dog.”
I nodded in thanks and bolted past Tiffany, heading out the back door, remembering at the last minute to wedge my order book in the crack so I wouldn’t get locked out. Steve, Billy’s nephew who pretended to work in the kitchen but really just stood outside smoking, welcomed me with a toxic cloud. “Hey man, I was just-”
“Save it,” I interrupted. “Give me a light, go back inside, I saw nothing.” He nodded like a puppy dog and took one last drag on his worn-out cigarette before crushing it under his converse.
Handing me a cancer stick and his lighter, he smashed his pack into his back pocket and scurried through the back door. I hated smokers and smoking. But I couldn’t drink on the job and smoking would curb my need to smash someone’s face.
Sitting on the cold concrete steps, I popped the unlit cigarette in my mouth and pulled out my phone. One new message.
From: Loren
