The Tiger’s Curvy Mate: Shifter Romance

1. Winter

1

Winter

“Winnie! Mind grabbing my table while I go to the little ladies’ room?” Mazy asked, already headed back there. I waved my hand in her direction. I didn’t mind. She had been good to me since I started working at Lucky’s almost three months before.

Lucky’s, a bar-s***h-club, had hired in a whole slew of new waiters and waitresses after being shut down for a couple months after a huge shootout. I heard no one got hurt, but rumors had spread about a man who’d been shot multiple times and escaped with no injuries. I didn’t believe the rumors, and I needed the job.

I hated the uniform, though. When I pulled it over my full figure, my breasts spilled over the low-cut top. Now, I was damn proud of my ample chest, but it didn’t mean I needed to flash the whole bar. Especially this bar.

Formerly an old factory building, the walls were lined with booths. They were meant for the VIPs, and the few not reserved often got fought over. Customers could get food at the tables near the back, but at 11:00 p.m., the kitchen closed, the bar opened, and the dance floor filled with revelers. We were encouraged to push drinks and dancing.

Many of the servers complained that they couldn’t see to do their jobs, but my excellent night vision—a present from the father I didn’t remember—allowed me to do my job despite dim lighting.

I wove my way through the dancers and dodged the other waitresses’ tables to get to Mazy’s section. She had the best tippers and most frequent regulars. I didn’t mind. She had been here long before me and would be here long after I moved on. She’d earned the best tables, and her customers expected better than average service.

This bar was a little … different. When I was hired, Derek, the manager, had asked me some … unusual questions. At least no bars I had worked at before asked me questions like he did. The patrons were different, as well, but I kept my head down and kept my nose out of any other’s business.

The table Mazy had asked me to wait on held three men. One of them dressed like he belonged on the streets, holes in his jeans and his black hair in disarray like he just rolled out of bed. Not the fanciest bar in the city.

We wore tight tank tops with the bar’s name written across a martini glass on the left breast. I fidgeted with the hem of the shirt as I approached the table. The other two men came into view. The dirty blond’s leathers fit him like a second skin. His eyebrow piercing enhanced cool brown irises and his lopsided smile made him the most approachable one at the table.

The last one at the table was terrifying—in a good way. His ice-blue eyes made me miss a step. My heart nearly stopped in my chest as one thought ran through my head. An idea so foreign I had never entertained it before, and yet something inside me accepted it without question.

Mine.

Ice-eyes didn’t seem to see me which was fine by me. I swallowed down the strange thought plaguing my mind. I had to keep my head on straight and do my job, but he was such a distraction. Ice-eyes’ suit fit him as if tailored to fit his body. The pressed, black, sleek ensemble likely cost more than my rent for a whole year. My heart pounded louder and louder in my ears the closer I got to the table.

My hands perspired. My hands never got sweaty. Graceful for a girl of my size, only one man made me nervous, but for a whole different reason. Ice-eyes was about to turn his head in my direction.

I ducked behind one of the structural pillars left from the building’s former life as a factory as I gathered myself together. My breathing was labored and had been for a while, but I’d never felt so turned on by just looking at a guy. Jeez, I needed to relieve some tension. I had to tamp down those feelings right now.

Giving myself one last pep talk, I bucked up and slipped back around the pillar. I straightened my back and continued my walk to the table.

“I still don’t know why you bought this dive, Dominic,” Ice-eyes said. His jaw was tipped up, his voice dripping with distain. His gaze wandered the room with disinterest. My nose scrunched up at his comment. The bar was a nice place. I enjoyed working here. He offended me, and if this Dominic was the owner, I would have thought he be offended, too. Instead, a sly smile slipped over his lips and his eyes flashed.

“I found something … real special here,” Dominic, the one with the torn jeans and messy hair, said. He watched something from the corner of his eye, but I didn’t follow his line of sight. I knew better than to get my nose in anyone else’s business. “Quinn, don’t you like my new bar?”

Ice-eyes sat tall in his seat. “I told you not to call me that. It’s Quentin.”

The third man just sat back and smiled. When I paused near their table, he gave me a wink. I pressed my lips together, holding back my smile.

“What can we help you with, darlin’?” Eyebrow-Piercing’s New Orleans accent made me want to swoon a little at his feet. Accents just made girls stupid. I’m pretty certain he knew it, too. His lopsided smile quirked up a bit and a new desire flared in his eyes.

“Honey, I’m here for you.” My voice dipped down a little, and I pushed my hip out. A low growl came from Quentin, but working here, I’d learned how to ignore the strange little noises of the patrons. I made myself believe they were part of the music, the natural beat of the music. I tilted my head and batted my eyelashes. My light-tawny curls slipped over my shoulder, a line right down to the free show Lucky’s uniforms offered.

“Is that right?” His tongue swept across his bottom lip.

“What can I get you boys?”

Quentin snorted. My eyes flicked to his, and for a second, something about him brought a part of me alive I hadn’t known existed before. My insides purred.

“Excuse my friend. He doesn’t know a beautiful woman when he sees one, chérie. Don’t take it too personally.” New Orleans continued to flirt with me.

“We all have our types. Now, boys, what’ll it be?”

“Whiskey,” Dominic said, his gaze kept flicking back to the dance floor.

“Same, chérie.” He gave me a wink.

“A glass of Chateau Montelena Estate Cabernet Sauvignon,” Quentin ordered. The words slipped off his tongue like silk. I didn’t think I would ever remember the name, but when Dominic barked a laugh, I realized it didn’t matter.

“f**k off, Quinn. I don’t carry that s**t here … do I?” Dominic looked at me.

I shook my head, unsure if we did.

“Fancy pants there will take the most expensive wine we have.”

I nodded and headed off. The moment I got away from their table, parts of me that had tensed up and strung tight loosened. I could breathe a little easier, but something in me whined to return to the very stuck-up Quentin. I shook my head. Not him. I didn’t think about customers that way. I lived by a rule: stay from away from patrons of the places I worked. I had learned my lesson.

I slipped between people in order to get back to the bar. A few men turned their heads to watch, but instead of the sweet heat usually accompanying their stares, I felt dirty. My body wasn’t meant for their eyes. I shook my head.

My stomach soured. He used to say that to me. I didn’t like it then, and I wasn’t okay thinking it now. My body belonged to me, and I could flaunt it to anyone I liked.

I found Mazy waiting at the bar. She kept peeking at the table I had just left. Mazy had been one of the rocks for me when I was recovering from him. She reminded me I was beautiful both inside and out.

“Thanks, Winnie. Would it be terrible of me to ask you to watch that table until they leave? I didn’t realize Lucas would be here.”

“Lucas?”

“Eyebrow Piercing? Thinks he is hot as s**t? The accent …”

“Say no more. I gotcha.” I touched her arm and ordered the men their drinks and made sure to get Quentin his fancy wine. I took it from the bartender and wiped the palm of my hand on the skintight, black uniform pants before lifting the tray.