Chapter Two
“Hustle up,” Tim Grimes, the owner of The Den, said in his usual gruff voice. “It’s Friday night, and we’re gonna be real busy soon.”
Catherine gave Tim a two-fingered salute. "Aye, aye, Captain!" She tried to move the keg under the bar, but she only managed to push it a few inches.
Tim let out a grunt and gently moved her aside. With one hand, he lifted it up effortlessly and placed it under the taps. "Now, get that hooked up."
"Will do," she said cheerfully, which only earned her another grunt. She chuckled to herself. Tim may look like a grumpy old mountain man with his thick white beard, suspenders, and propensity to dress in flannel, but she knew he was as soft as a marshmallow inside. After all, he'd not only given her this job but also helped her find a place to stay, despite having only met her four days ago.
Catherine tapped the keg with practiced ease. Satisfied with her work, she got up and began to wipe down the bar. She was already done with all the prep and busy work, and, just as Tim had said, people started pouring in.
As orders from both the bar and tables came in, she got into the zone. Her Zen space, as she called. After a year of tending bar, she'd gotten used to the rhythm of making and serving drinks. In fact, most nights seemed to melt into each other. Same shit, different night.
Still, it was good money for someone with no other marketable skills, and who knew she would be so good at it? She smiled, chatted and flirted with the customers, though that was one part of the job that came naturally to her. She chuckled to herself, thinking of that first night she had somehow conned her way into her first bartending job. She had mixed up the drink orders, gotten herself into the weeds, and nearly got fired. If it wasn't for Rissa helping her out—
No.
She shut down that part of her brain as her throat began to constrict with unshed tears for her friend. Get back into the Zen space. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and went back to work, pushing all other thoughts aside.
She continued to sling the drinks, the work keeping her mind steady. Before she knew it, she was already halfway through her shift.
“Not bad, new girl,” Heather, one of the waitresses, said as she put her tray on the counter. “Didn’t think you could handle yourself, but you’re doing all right.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Keep ‘em coming.”
"Oh, my. Best step up your game."
“Hmmm?” What did she mean?
Heather nodded to the front door. “They’re here. Oh, and looks like they’re out in full force.”
“Who?”
Heather giggled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Catherine’s head whipped toward the front door, craning her neck to see what Heather was talking about. There were a couple of guys standing there, eyes scanning the room, probably for an empty spot. A group of guys going to a bar wasn’t unusual, but there was something about them that seemed different. Sure, it looked like they had come from some fancy party in their tuxes, but that wasn’t it. All of them were tall, gorgeous, and looked like they had stepped out of a men’s magazine. They also had this aura that seemed to fill the room and make people stare at them. An animal magnetism that made every pair of eyes turn toward them (especially the female ones).
The first guy had longish, light brown hair; a handsome face; and an easy smile. He was tall and lean, though the guy behind was much taller. And bigger. The blond man with the thick beard was broad around the shoulders and undoubtedly the tallest man she'd ever seen. Maybe six-foot-seven at least. Next was the dark-haired man, probably the same height as the first man. Everyone seemed to know him. He shook hands with a couple of people as they made their way to an empty table in the corner.
The fourth man in the group seemed to have the opposite effect. People gave him a wide berth and avoided his gaze. She supposed he was just as handsome as his companions, with his long blond hair and thick beard, but the scowl on his face definitely gave that “leave-me-the-fuck-alone” vibe.
Catherine was about to return to a drink she was making when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Looking toward the group, she realized a fifth man had joined them.
Even from afar, she could tell he was different. It wasn’t just the way he carried himself; it was something about him. While his friends were all good-looking, he was drop-dead gorgeous. He had midnight black hair that looked like it had been perfectly combed, but was now deliciously ruffled; tanned skin, like he was used to being outdoors; and, under his white tuxedo shirt, his muscles stretched and flexed. And those eyes. They were a grey so light they were almost silver. And they were also staring right back at her.
She gasped and grabbed the side of the bar as she stumbled and looked away. Did she forget to breathe? Heat crept up her neck. She glanced back at him. He was still staring at her.
The way he looked at her sent her senses tingling. Shifter. But what was he?
“Catherine!” Tim called. “I’ve been calling you for the last five seconds. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
Tearing her gaze away from the man, she quickly snapped out of her trance. Unfortunately, that also sent the glass in her hand tumbling to the floor. "Sorry, Boss!" she stammered. "I'll take care of that." She grabbed the broom and mop from the corner and quickly cleaned up the mess. It didn't take her too long, but by the time she finished, the line at the bar was already two deep, and she still had to finish the table orders.
Oh, fuck me.
What was the matter with her? Sure, that guy was gorgeous, but she’d never had that kind of reaction to a man. Maybe she had eaten something weird. That ham sandwich for lunch maybe?
“Sorry for the wait,” she said to the next person in line. She didn’t bother looking at him as she grabbed a clean rag from under the bar.
“No worries, sweetheart,” the man said, his green eyes twinkling.
She realized he was the first guy from that group, the sandy-haired one. Beside him was his friend, the dark-haired guy everyone seemed to know. Hmmm. He looked familiar somehow. Again, her senses went tingling. They were shifters, too.
Most humans didn’t know how to tell if someone was a shifter, at least they didn’t bother to learn. But Catherine knew what to look for. It was that look in their eyes. It wasn’t something she could explain, but she just knew.
“So, what can I get you?” she said, pasting a sunny smile on her face.
“Five shots of tequila, five shots of whiskey, five shots of bourbon, and your phone number,” the first man said.
Oh boy, like I hadn’t heard that one before. “Gotcha,” she said and began to prepare the drinks. As she placed everything on a tray, the other man put his black credit card on the bar. Ooh, Mr. Bigshot.
The man frowned. “Hey, you’re missing something.”
“Huh?”
“Your phone number,” he said cheekily.
Catherine placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I can’t very well give all of you my phone number, can I? Wouldn’t want you to fight over me. What’s that saying? Bros before hos?”
He put his hand on his chest and dropped his jaw. “I’m shocked. In this day and age you would refer to yourself in those terms? I thought with feminism and everything …” He shook his head.
She giggled. She had to admit he was pretty damn funny. “Sorry, I don’t date customers. Hey!” She made a grab for the credit card as he swiped it off the table.
“Oh, so you’ll give this to me for free, huh?”
As funny as she thought he was, she had a job to do. She held out her hand and gave him her best don’t-mess-with-me look. He flashed her a smile and gave her back the card.
“I’m Jason. Lennox.”
“Uh-huh,” she said as she ran the card. “I know how to read.”
“And I’m Nathan,” the other guy said. “I’m not as rich as my friend here, but I’m talented in other ways.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
She handed the card and slip to Jason. “Really? Can you stick it up your own ass?”
That made Nathan throw his head back and laugh, a move that surprised her. Most guys would get all huffy or angry, but it seemed these guys could take it as much as they could dish out.
“Oh burn!” Jason laughed. “I like you.”
“And I feel somewhat lukewarm toward you but only because of that tip you signed on your card.” She raised her hand to stop him. “Please, gentlemen, no more dick jokes. In this job, I’ve heard them all, trust me.”
“You’re an okay gal,” Nathan said. “What’s your name again?”
The people behind them were starting to roll their eyes, and, as much as she enjoyed the banter, she had a job to do. "Catherine."
"I guess we'll see you around." The two of them flashed her mischievous smiles and took their tray of drinks back to their table.
Catherine continued to sling drinks but kept the table in the corner of her eye. She could have sworn that gorgeous guy was looking at her, but she didn't have a second to stop and make sure. The entire time, though, she felt that prickling on the back of her neck like someone was watching her.
“So, you’ve met Jason Lennox and Nathan Caldwell,” Heather said when she came back. “Those boys are trouble, I’m warning you.”
“I handled them pretty well.”
“And I’m proud of you. Still, it’s rare to see all five boys together, and it’s usually just those two causin’ trouble here,” Heather said. “Those shifter boys. But,” Heather continued, “some of the girls around here—especially the ones who drive up from the big cities—you know they’re the ones looking for trouble. And those boys attract them like flies to honey.”
“Oh? Are they all … brothers or something?” Before she could ask “who’s the hunky one,” she bit her lip.
“Not all of them. Nathan’s the only one not related to them. Jason, you’ve met. Matthew’s obviously his brother, and so’s Luke. Ben—he’s the big guy—he’s their cousin or something.”
“Wait, back up. Who’re the brothers?” She was confused. None of those men looked that much alike to her.
“Duh, Jason and Matthew, but Luke’s their adopted brother.” She pointed to the scowling guy with long hair who was ambling toward the bathroom.
“Oh, they’re brothers?” she said, nodding at the two dark-haired men who were deep in conversation, their heads close together.
Heather looked at her strangely. “Girl, you need to get your eyes checked or something?”
“Hmmm … I guess the eyes are the same.” Silvery gray, like pools of molten steel.
“Duh, they’re identical twins—oh shoot, Boss is giving me the stink eye. Sorry, gotta go.” Heather quickly walked away.
“Twins?” Catherine said aloud to no one in particular. No way those two were twins. Maybe the same body type and hair, but… “Must be some small town joke,” she huffed. Then she realized Heather has said the hunky guy’s name. Matthew. She wanted to say it out loud, wondering if it would cause the same chills she got just thinking about it. And him. And wondering what his hands would feel like—
“Get a grip,” she told herself. This wasn’t the time nor place. She had come here to maintain a low profile, keep her head down, and not get involved with anyone. Just passing the time until it was safe to move on.