“I’m not harassing anyone,” she calls back, folding her arms under her chest as she moves toward the counter. “I never have, and I never will.”
“Good. Keep it that way. Now, start circulating with the appetisers. Get them out while they’re still perfect.”
“Fine,” she says, picking a tray from the stack and placing it down next to the plates we just finished helping the chef prepare.
I move to her side quickly, not wanting to miss anything important.
She puts a tray in front of me, before she starts picking up plates and putting them on her own tray. The tray is square, and it can fit four of the small round plates.
“Careful!” Chef Harris chastises when she knocks a tiny fork from one of the plates.
The fork lands on the floor next to him, and he shakes his head as he picks it up and deposits it into the sink.
Katie pulls a face while his back is turned.
“I was being careful,” she protests. “The fork was just badly placed.”
He snorts lightly as he gets a replacement from a drawer.
I load up my own tray slowly, making sure I don’t move the perfectly positioned pastry or knock any of the desert forks from their positions into the side of the sauce and icing dots wespent the last fifteen minutes or so placing to the chef’s exacting standards.
My hands shake a little as I put the final plate into position.
It feels like my shift is just starting now. Despite spending the last hour with Katie and getting some idea of what to expect from the night, I’m suddenly not sure I’m prepared for what I need to do.
That first hint of nervous energy is hard to ignore.
I’m almost afraid to pick up the tray when Katie smiles at me and tells me it’s time to get out there and offer the appetisers.
The unexpected weight when I lift it helps to keep my hands steady, but as I follow Katie into the ballroom, my stomach fills with butterflies and I can’t help but start to question everything.
This whole place, the apartment, the friendly co-worker, the job I was given so freely …
It’s all way too good to be true.
Something’s going to go wrong.
I can’t help but wonder how easily this wonderful new life could slip from my grasp.
Chapter Thirty
Shayne
Smiling until my face hurts is going to be the order of the night. It needs to look like we want to be here, and that’s not going to happen if I slink into a corner and attempt to hide until Falcon’s ready to get the hell out of here. This place is so big, and there are so few people around that it really doesn’t feel like my lead Alpha’s going to get the chance to slip out of the room.
He gives a bar maid our drink order as if we’re on a regular night out, and I smile and nod at the nearest Omega who immediately blushes and looks away.
“Could you look a little less interested in the skirt?” Falcon mutters.
I raise an eyebrow at him. He can’t be serious.
“And what are we supposed to be here for, exactly?”
He sighs. “Never mind.”
The bar maid appears with a tray, and he lifts his glass of ginger ale.
“Thanks,” I tell her as I take my cola, since Falcon’s clearly too distracted for pleasantries.
