Christiana showed up on Monday ready to get to work. She was going to have to figure out how much ice cream she’d need to make for opening night. Over the weekend, Chad and Barrett had found her three chefs and an assistant. Her assistant, Angelina Nibbles, was like a smaller version of Christiana, slightly shorter than Christiana but with curves like her own. They practically looked like sisters. Christiana at first had found Angelina’s enthusiasm a bit grating, but then, remembered how enthused she had been the first time she had worked in a professional kitchen, and her frowns turned into smiles.

Bear Buns had hired three other chefs. Christiana gave them and Angelina the low down on what was going to go down. Every Friday, there’d be a few big shows. There’d be ones on Saturday, too. Through the week, they’d be whipping up batches of ice cream. Each week, one chef would be making the mix-ins, another, the base, and the third, mixing up and packaging the ice cream. They were starting that week. One chef would be in charge of roasting the almonds and making marshmallows, the other, in charge of making the chocolate base, with another in charge of mixing and packaging the batches of rocky road ice cream. Christiana and Angelina would be helping the three other chefs with their jobs as needed.

As Christiana worked on the ice cream, she heard raised voices from the next room over. The kitchen was right next to the most excellent central stage area, which is where the bears were practicing their routines. They had three main stage areas so that while the bears performed one show, the cleaning crew could clean up another stage, and stagehands could set up the last stage. That way, they could do three times the shows they could do with one stage, every single night. For now, they were only going to be using the main stages for the weekends. On the other days, the non-dancer staff still came in to clean, work on props, costume design, and makeup.

The voices continued, getting louder, and were distracting Christiana. She sighed. She knew as a woman that she was expected to do extra unpaid emotional labor. Whatever was going on in the room next door was none of her business and none of her concern…except, when she saw her underlings looking at one another, and then, stopping to listen to the drama, she knew she had to do something about it.

“Get back to work,” ordered Christiana. Angelina started to flow after Christiana and Christiana stopped her.

“Stay here, make sure people keep working,” said Christiana. “We only have a few days until opening night, people. Do you care more about listening to gossip or keeping your jobs? Nate, don’t forget to put the honey in the marshmallow mix. Lars, you’ve got to make sure that you mix the chocolate evenly. Pack the ice cream tightly, Marlon. And Angelina, stay on their asses. I mean it.”

Christiana left the kitchen via the exit that led to the main stage area. On stage, there were twelve men in hotpants and their black practice tank tops, including two men in green and brown sequin hotpants. It was Chad and Barrett, and they were in a heated discussion with the other ten men about something.

“Hey!” said Christiana. “You all need to keep it down! We can hear you in the frikkin’ kitchen.”

She looked at all the men on stage who were still glaring at one another, organized into six teams of two.

There was a pair of men in blue and teal shorts, a pair in red and gold shorts, a pair in shorts that were a silvery gray and white, a pair in purple and green shorts, and a pair in brownish red shorts. Of course, there were also two men in green and brown shorts, men with hair that Christiana just knew would smell like chocolate and honey and a smoky campfire all rolled into one, two men who could make her insides melt like the rocky road ice cream would melt if frikkin’ Marlon didn’t do his job fast enough.

It was Chad and Barrett, and they somehow looked even sexier when they were mad…at least, when they weren’t mad at her. Christiana hadn’t seen them that day. She’d gone straight to HR to fill out paperwork and get her security badge before hitting the kitchen to get to work. She wasn’t about to waste a single moment at the club on anything but work, but around Chad and Barrett, she couldn’t help but wish for time to stand still.

They were toned, handsome, and had dance moves that looked like they belonged between the sheets rather than on stage. Their voices were as rich as chocolate and as sweet as honey, and everything they had said to Christiana the Friday before had made her feel like it was a flirtation, some subtle come-on. They may have been strippers, but they were also her bosses. After all, why else would they have been in charge of interviewing staff? They were abso-frikkin’-lutely off limits, but just mere feet from her, they look utterly touchable. Christiana may have been a whiz kid in the kitchen, but there was no way she could whip up anything as delectable as Chad and Barrett. The fact they came as a package, well, that made her want to be the soft marshmallow between their hard graham cracker tan bodies, a curvy sweetie covered in chocolate sauce that they could lick off her body all night long, around a campfire or in front of their fireplace.

Christiana snapped herself out of it. What the heck was she thinking about? These were the men that she was answering to, not the men whose attraction to her she should be questioning like a schoolgirl wondering if ‘he loves me, he loves me not,’ although with two daisies rather than one.

“Sorry,” said a man in blue and teal shorts, but that wasn’t good enough for Christiana. She took her apron off, tossed it to the ground dramatically, and walked up and onto the stage.

“What the heck are you arguing about?” asked Christiana. She was on stage, arms crossed.

“We can’t figure out what order we’re going to be going in,” said a man with blue and teal shorts.

“It’s opening night,” said the man with brown shorts. “It’s going to be one of our biggest nights ever.”

“That’s why we should go first,” said a man with green and purple shorts. “Spirit bears are going to be the biggest draw.”

“Glacier bears are way more exotic,” said the other man with blue and teal shorts.

“Exotic?” asked a man with red and yellow shorts. “Nothing’s more exotic than a sun bear.”

“Except for a moon bear,” said a man with grey and white shorts.

“Who knows more about mooning than a moon bear?” asked the man’s dance partner and they bumped fists.

“And what, Himalayan mountain browns are just trash?” asked Chad, his arms crossed.

“Boys, boys, there’s a way to settle this fairly,” said Christiana. “There has to be. How did they handle the order at Bear Buns Seattle?”

“It was based on seniority,” said Barrett. “The problem is, none of us have seniority.”

“Then we’re gonna draw names from a bowl,” said Christiana. “All of you, in the kitchen, now.”

Christiana led the way to the kitchen. She grabbed a mixing bowl and some parchment paper and a marker.

“Mountain…glacier…sun…moon…spirit…” said Christiana. “I’m missing one.”

“Tibetan blue,” said the man in brown shorts.

“Just put ‘yeti,’” said his dance partner.

“All right, ‘yeti,’” said Christiana. She put the paper scraps into a bowl.

“Someone get the lights,” ordered Christiana. “Chefs, sorry to take up more of your time. The dancers have a little problem they need to have resolved. We’ll be done shortly.”

As soon as Chad turned the light off, Christiana mixed the bowl up and picked a paper at random. “Lights up.”

The lights went on, and Christiana put out the first paper. It read, ‘Mountain.’

“No frikkin’ way,” said one of the spirit bears.

“We’ve still got five names to draw,” said Christiana. “Lights.”

Christiana drew the rest of the names. The Himalayan mountain bears, Chad and Barrett, would be going first, followed by the glacier bears, then, the sun bears and the moon bears. Next, the spirit bears would go on, and the ‘yeti’ bears would close the show.

“It’s settled,” said Christiana. “This is the order. When someone finds their mate or leaves the club, the queue will move. When Chad and Barrett find their mate, glaciers, you’ll be the show openers. Once nearly everyone’s got their mates, finally, the spirit and yeti bears are gonna be the show openers.”

“That’s not fair,” said one of the yetis.

“You whine, Fate listens,” said Chad. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll find your mates in due time.”

“The two of you better hustle and shake those bare buns,” ordered one of the sun bears. “I can’t wait to open the show. It’s about to be the club of the rising sun…the rising sun bears, that is.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully, we’ll have some luck this week,” said Barrett.

‘Some luck’? Had Christiana just heard Barrett right? The words stung. She couldn’t figure out why, though. She knew why, but it didn’t make sense. She was jealous, of a woman she’d never met, a woman who she might never meet. After all, Christiana was meant to work in the back of the house, in the kitchen. She wasn’t one of the women that Chad and Barrett would be dancing for. Maybe she would have been, in another life, but she was in this life, a life where she needed this job and the ample salary. She couldn’t risk all that pursuing Chad and Barrett just because her lady parts told her that they were abso-frikkin’-lutely hot, a pair of perfect packages.

“Well, good luck with the show,” said Christiana.

“One last thing,” said Chad. “Christiana…I know it wasn’t in your job description, but would you mind handling other kinds of food?”

“Depends on what y’all are ordering,” said Christiana, folding her arms.

“We’ve been ordering takeout for all our meals,” said Barrett. “It’s added up. We ran the numbers. With twelve dancers, with big appetites, that’s about twenty bucks a person per meal, so, probably around two hundred and fifty bucks a meal total, when you account for tax.”

“And you want me to start handling your meals, too?” asked Christiana. “Is this a motorcycle club or a strip club?”

“We’d, of course, get whatever ingredients you told us to get, and hire on an extra chef or two,” promised Barrett. “What do you say? You up for making the dancers and staff their meals?”

“Dancers and staff?” asked Christiana. “That’s like…fifty people!”

“Hey, I told you we offered perks,” said Barrett. “So, what do you say? You up for the challenge?”

“It won’t be easy,” said Christiana. “That’s an extra one hundred and fifty dishes a day. I’m going to need at least three chefs more just for the meals alone.”

“Consider it done,” said Chad. “You game?”

“I’m game,” admitted Christiana. “But we’re gonna have a system and rules in place. We’ll use one of the empty main stage rooms for the meals, starting tomorrow. You need to get three chefs, today if you want this to happen by tomorrow. I can’t handle that while I work on the menu.”

“We’ll call in some favors,” promised Barrett. “Thank you so much, Christiana. You’re already doing so much for a club. You’re a true friend.”

Barrett and the rest of the strippers left the kitchen, leaving Christiana to figure out what the heck she’d be doing about feeding fifty hungry mouths, of which around three dozen belonged to hungry shifter men and women, but one word rang in her head: friend. She knew that she should be happy to be friends with her bosses, but something inside her felt as if being friends just wasn’t enough.