Quietly preparing the platter, I hear a loud thump. Someone is angry. I'm just glad I'm in here and not out there with all that commotion. I pull my hood up to hide my bruised eye. Unfortunately, I can't cover my split lip, so I figure I'll bite over my lip to hide it when needed.After approaching the counter, I ask the first man for his order. I avoid eye contact and keep my head down as I write them down. All these guys sound very grumpy and annoyed. Then, finally, Jim comes over to me. 'Alpha, I mean Ryker, would like a vanilla milkshake with some cookies.' I nod and write the order. I have served everyone except for Ryker.Lifting an enormous platter of biscuits and dips, I wince with the weight in one hand. My broken rib is under strain. Ryker stares at me.Pausing for a moment, I inhale a deep breath and hold it, brace myself for the pain, lift the platter again, and put it on the table where most men sit. In the kitchen, I exhale while keeping my hand pressed against my ribs.
Read more