Page 8 of Fangs and Fudge

“How is he? Gunther, I mean?” I asked.

“He’s fine.”

“I didn’t see him when I came in.”

Buzz grinned. “He was running late. I like that you worry about us, Everly. But you don’t need to.” He leaned over the bar, his face close to mine, and said in a low voice, “Did you forget wolves heal fast?”

A hand jutted between our faces. I followed the hand over to find Shepard scowling at Buzz.

Buzz backed up with a smirk on his face to finish mixing the drinks I needed, and I watched Shepard place a second plate of lamb skewers on my drink tray.

“Your order is ready.”

That was a little too fast, and I wondered if he made my order before anyone else's.

“Thanks.”

He nodded, gave Buzz a warning glance, which made Buzz smirk again, and returned to the kitchen.

I picked up the tray and carried it to my section. The dwarves eyed the lamb skewers with a hunger that I typically reserved for bakery.

As I placed the last drink on the table, I asked, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Before they could answer, a commotion at the door drew our attention. Thankfully, it wasn’t a mob of crazy people. Just a group of men who gave fae men a run for their money in the looks department.

If their sun-kissed hair and skin didn’t draw the eye, the excessive muscle display sure did.

During my time working at Blur, I’d grown used to muscles–ones hidden by button-up shirts and modestly fitted jeans. The muscles on the group at the door were barely concealed with t-shirts and snug denim that left nothing to the imagination.

My gaze drifted to the lead man’s not-so-hidden bulge, and I felt a stab of panic.

Shepard had warned us that more help was coming, but I hadn’t expected the help to look like the rest of the werewolves I knew.

Scanning Blur’s crowd and noting over half the patrons were also staring at the men, I finally spotted Vena. She was standing next to her table, her mouth slightly open as she stared at the newcomers. Or, more specifically, at the leader’s enormous bulge.

As I watched, a slow smile tugged at her lips.

“Excuse me,” I said, grabbing a napkin from the dwarves' table and balling it up.

My makeshift “don’t get us fired” projectile bounced off the side of Vena’s head. She turned toward me, grinning like the horny idiot she was.

“Did I just get pregnant?” she mouthed, using both hands to check her stomach.

I rolled my eyes at her and gave her a get-to-work look.

Pretending like I hadn’t just lobbed a napkin at my co-worker, I smiled at my table, asked if they needed anything, and moved to another table closer to the door.

By the time I made my way to the stairs, Shepard was speaking with the newcomers and pointed to the stairs leading to the VIP section. Relieved they’d be out of Vena’s eyesight, I watched Shepard lead them away.

“Why are samples only a thing for food?” Vena asked two inches from my ear, scaring the daylights out of me.

“Cut it out. Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yes. But please tell me you’ll be ready to discuss that dear-god vision we just had once we’re on our way home.”

Knowing Vena would not let this go, I turned her toward her section. “In vivid detail. I promise. Now go.”

She grinned as I pushed her toward her tables.

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