The words rang in Christiana’s head, over and over again. It was as if Barrett’s words were taunting her. He’d made her a promise, and he’d broken it. So had Chad. They were a package deal, and what had happened last night, well, that was both of their problems. They’d avoided just admitting that she wasn’t their fated mate, sleeping while she snuck off to go home and clean up. After all, if she was their fated mate, if they truly had wanted her, why hadn’t they said anything to her about it? What was left unsaid was that she wasn’t their fated mate. That’s what it had to be. How many girls had they taken back to their room after romancing them and, once they came and their marks glowed, they tossed aside like mere garbage?

Christiana tried to dismiss the thoughts from her head, but it was hard, harder than anything she’d tried to do that week. It was even harder than getting the emotional strength to allow Chad and Barrett in.

Christiana resisted the urge to call in sick on Friday. She knew that she’d signed up to do a job and she had to see that job through. That didn’t stop her stomach from doing flips. Now, she didn’t just have opening night to worry about. She had to worry about the mess she’d left in the cocktail room. There was no way that Chad and Barrett hadn’t noticed her disappearance. The only question was, would they bring it up with her before the show, or not at all?

Christiana got to work earlier than any of her staff. She’d barely been able to sleep the night before. Her alarm had been set an hour earlier than it needed to be by accident. Her staff would be getting to work two hours later than usual because Friday nights would go long, and she needed them to have the energy to see the night through. Christiana took inventory of the ice cream that had been made for the event and calculated how many bowls there were. They’d need to do a run on whipped cream, a can per table because Chad and Barrett had suggested that the fans might like to use it as an audience participation prop and—

There they were again. Even in the kitchen, Christiana was unable to do anything but think of the bears that had broken her heart without saying a word. How had she been so stupid? She had worked hard to get and keep this job, from the unorthodox interview to coming up with not just one but two ice cream recipes during the week, as well as planning a bevy of meals that were inexpensive for the club to fund but filling enough to fuel the dancers and the rest of the staff. There was no telling if, by the end of the night, she’d have to turn in her apron, either due to incompetence or the broken heart that might cause it. All she’d had to do was keep her legs in her pants, her hair in her hair net and chef’s hat, and her hands in her apron, and she hadn’t even managed to do that.

Christiana put the nonperishable ingredients in their places for her chefs, so they’d be more efficient during the day. When the door opened, she didn’t even look up before saying, “Hey, Angelina.”

“Hey,” said a familiar voice.

Christiana looked up. It was Chad. He was wearing a navy blue shirt and a pair of shorts. Christiana was a little jealous given how hot the kitchen seemed even though she’d just been in the giant freezer. It wasn’t the kitchen’s temperature that was making her skin redden, and her parts get wet with desire. Surprisingly, Chad looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He didn’t look like he’d lost a lick of sleep last night.

“Hey,” said Christiana, looking back down. How could she look Chad in the eye after last night?

“You’re here early,” said Chad, leaning against the doorframe.

“You got a last-minute request of some kind?” asked Christiana.

“Nah, you don’t have to make us breakfast or anything,” said Chad.

“There’s cereal if you want it, and eggs,” said Christiana. “I’m too busy to make a batch for the club.”

“Even though you got here three hours before you needed to?” asked Chad cheekily.

Christiana looked up at Chad and put a hand on her hips.

“Look, unless you’re here to help, I’m not able to make small talk,” said Christiana. “I’ve got to prep for tonight’s show.”

“I can help,” said Chad. “What do you need me to do?”

Christiana sighed. He’d called her on her bluff. She hadn’t expected that.

“I’m setting up the sundae section,” explained Christiana. “What’s going to happen tonight is we’re going to have the chefs in an assembly line making the sundaes. That way, they’ll all look uniform, we’ll get them done more quickly, and there’ll be less chaos.”

“Why do the sundaes need to look the same?” asked Chad.

“Because if somebody thinks somebody else’s sundae has more honey or nuts or marshmallows than theirs, a catfight will break out,” said Christiana. “Remember, at Bear Buns, every girl is supposed to feel like a queen.” Christiana ignored the voice in her head asking why, if that was true, Christiana felt like anything but royalty at the club since the events of last night.

“I didn’t think of that,” said Chad. “You’d really never run a kitchen before?”

“I haven’t run a strip club neither, but sometimes, you just gotta do what you gotta do,” said Christiana. “Here. You can help me by setting up the plastic parfait cups. Wash your hands, put on gloves, put on a hair net, and I’ll show you what to do.”

“A hair net?” asked Chad. “For this?” Chad ran his hands through his bedhead.

“I don’t tell you how to run the stage,” said Christiana. “Don’t tell me how to run my kitchen.”

“Sorry, boss,” said Chad. Chad washed his hands and got on gloves, an apron, and a hair net.

Christiana showed Chad how to separate the plastic parfait cups so that they would come apart more efficiently for the chef in charge of doling out scoops of ice cream into the cups. Then, it was on to setting up the stations of chopped nuts, marshmallows (with some water to keep them moist all day), and sauces (which went back in the fridge once they had figured out how much space to allow for the chef who would be putting the finishing touches on the sundaes).

They did the same for the station for chocolate ice cream and plain berry parfaits. Christiana explained that it was due to allergy concerns and those stations had to be clean of any nuts. She did more than explain, though. By the end of it, she found herself having fun showing Chad her world as if the night before hadn’t happened.

Of course, when Angelina showed up, fifteen minutes before the other chefs were supposed to, the illusion was shattered. There was more to the world than just Christiana and Chad. There were other people, and one of them would end up being Chad and Barrett’s mate. It just wasn’t her.

“Hey, you two,” said Angelina with a sassy, flirty tone.

“Hey,” said Christiana. “You ready for today?”

“Yeah, anything else you need purchased?” asked Angelina.

“Uh, last night, the topic of whipped cream came up,” said Christiana. “See if you can get some cans wholesale, at least eight ounces per can. Worst case scenario, get it at the regular grocery store. Don’t forget to use the card this time.”

“Got it,” said Angelina. She looked over Chad and then over Christiana and couldn’t help but smile. It was clear that the two had had some fun last night.

“I can get the whipped cream for you,” said Chad.

“No, you can’t,” said a voice.

Christiana looked at the entry to the main dance hall. There was Barrett, in his green and brown sequin hotpants, no shirt, his arms crossed over his chest, his glistening, glossy, shirtless chest, the mate mark showing in all its glory, all its teasing, tantalizing, terrible glory. Before, it had been another part of Barrett and Chad that made them sexy, but now, it was a ghost of the failure of the past night, at least to Christiana. It was clear Angelina was enjoying the show.

“You’re late enough as it is,” continued Barrett. “We’ve got practice, Chad. You should leave Christiana alone. She’s got a lot of work as it is.”

Barrett looked to Christiana. His bear roared and told him to pursue, to hunt, to take, but Barrett hushed the bear. Chad was playing with fire, working in such close proximity with Christiana who obviously wanted space. Hadn’t Chad been the one to suggest they leave her alone in the first place? He’d have words with his dance partner in the locker room.

“Christiana, do you need someone to go shopping for you?” asked Barrett politely and coolly. “I can have one of the stagehands go get the stuff.”

“Angelina can handle it by herself,” said Christiana.

“Can I go with a stagehand?” asked Angelina.

“Why do I have a feeling this is about you getting to spend more time with Thomas?” asked Christiana, crossing her arms.

“If I go to the bulk restaurant supply store, I’m going to need someone to help me lift the crates of whipped cream,” said Angelina. “If I drop a case and they all get dented and go off like a bunch of cucumbers at a premature ejaculation support group, the club has to pay for it.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” asked Christiana.

“You’ve seen me try and lift the ten-gallon ice cream tubs!” insisted Angelina. “Come on. If someone helps me, I’ll have more energy to help you with the sundae bar.”

“Okay, but make it quick,” said Christiana. “You and Thomas have lots on your plate today. We all do.” Christiana looked over to Chad and Barrett and nodded toward the main dance hall.

“Got it,” said Angelina. She started to leave.

“You need the card,” said Christiana. “Did you forget so quickly?”

“Oh, oops,” said Angelina. “Catch you on the stage, guys.”

Angelina followed Christiana to Christiana’s office which was close to the kitchen. As Christiana fiddled with the sage, Angelina couldn’t help but ask the question that was on her mind.

“So, what happened last night?” asked Angelina.

“I was too nervous to sleep,” said Christiana.

“Nervous? Or occupied?” asked Angelina.

“What are you getting at?” asked Christiana, finally getting the safe open.

“I saw the way Chad and Barrett were looking at you,” said Angelina. “You have a glow about you today. I know what that means. It can only mean one thing, Christiana. You guys did the deed. The dirty. Y’all had a low-down hoedown.”

“A what now?” asked Christiana. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Angelina.”

“Come on, you saw their mate marks,” said Angelina.

“We’re not talking about this,” said Christiana. “Here. Don’t forget to get receipts. And make it quick. I need you back here for the lunch rush.”

“Got it,” said Angelina, taking the card. She used her fingers to motion that she was zipping her lips, but Christiana had a sinking feeling that Angelina was going to be gossiping about her with Thomas. It was a free country, after all, and Angelina had the freedom to do that…but Christiana also had the right to feel like garbage that it was going to be happening. In a few months, when Chad and Barrett inevitably found their fated mate, Angelina would have to eat her words, and everyone would know that Christiana wasn’t really Chad and Barrett’s fated mate.

Christiana took a second to compose herself before going back to the sundae stations to give them another look over. Today’s lunch menu was simple, just the standard ‘super salad’ menu of soup, salad, and sandwiches. She could start the soup as her chefs trickled in.

The chefs came in and started mixing up batches of the salad. When they were all assembled, Christiana briefed her troupes on the battle plan. If they’d felt like they were feeding an army this week, they had another thing coming tonight. A battalion of BBWs, hungry ones, would be coming with appetites for hot man meat and cold ice cream. They’d be expecting the best from Bear Buns, and while Christiana couldn’t control what they ate with their eyes, she was responsible for what they’d be putting in their mouths. Every dessert would need to be made correctly, with as much ice cream, whipped cream, and hot honey topping as possible. Christiana made example sundaes for the chefs, and after a few attempts, the assembly line had it right.

The ingredients went back in the fridges and freezers, but Christiana let her crew eat the sundaes they’d made. After all, a chef had to know what their food tasted like at its best so that they made it well every single time. That was the level of excellence advertised by Bear Buns and Christiana was not about to let the opening night be a bust, even if her heart was busted.

Angelina made it back in time for the lunch rush. Christiana and Thomas put away the cans of whipped cream while Angelina made sandwiches.

“You know the rejected bumper stickers?” asked Christiana. “The ones that came out a little wonky?”

“Yeah?” asked Angelina.

“Go find out if they’ve been tossed yet,” said Christiana. “If they haven’t been, bring them all to me. I have a crazy idea that might just work.”

“Who’d know where they’re kept?” asked Angelina.

Christiana sighed. “If I don’t know, then Chad and Barrett must. We’re the only ones who know shizz about this club, no offense, Thomas.”

“None taken,” said Thomas.

In about twenty minutes, Angelina was back with the stickers. The stickers said, ‘Bear Buns,’ but the batch was off. Each sticker was supposed to say ‘Bear Buns’ once, across the sticker, but these had the words ‘Bear Buns’ repeated over and over on the sticker as a pattern. They wouldn’t look good on a car, but they were perfect for Christiana’s purposes.

“What’re you gonna do with these?” asked Angelina.

“I’m not doing shizz,” said Christiana. “I’ve gotta help with the lunch. You and Thomas are going to slap one of these bad boys on each can of whipped cream. That way, if somebody takes a good pic of these, or takes it home, our branding is on it.”

“Our?” asked Thomas.

“Like it or not, we’re all a part of this big, crazy family,” said Christiana. “Angelina, grab a jacket if you need one. Mine’s the blue hoodie on my chair. Thomas, toss her out if she’s getting too chilly.” Christiana rolled up her sleeves. It was time for her to get it together and show the people coming to Bear Buns what the heck she was made of. She was heartbroken. All day, she’d been holding back tears. What wasn’t broken was her will, and what she wouldn’t hold back was her passion for making not just good food, but great food. Tonight was going to be a success if Christiana had anything to do with it.