Page 2 of Tiger's Little Waif
“Can you cook?”
She blinked and then frowned at the question. “Can I cook? Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I can.”
“Professionally, or just for your family?”
Shaw had to smile as she considered the question. “I’ve been the assistant to the head pastry chef at Kate’s Bakery over on Third Street for the last three years. Well, that is until my ex got me fired last week. Before that, I worked at the Shelby Hotel. I started washing dishes when I was sixteen and worked my way up until the pastry chef took me on and trained me. Would you like to see my resume?”
“No, that’s not necessary. I’m Lonergan Mireles, the director of Bratburg Institute. While it is true that you are too old to come to Bratburg as a trainee, I would like to offer you a job. Though he refuses to admit it, our chef needs help. If you accept this position, you’ll be out of the city this afternoon and under our protection. We will provide room and board along with your paycheck for as long as you wish to work for the institute.”
Shaw began nodding before he finished making the offer. “I’ll take it.”
Marshall Ramsey walked through the vegetable garden with a half-full wicker basket hanging from one arm. He smiled serenely as he plucked some more bright red grape tomatoes and carefully placed them in the basket. As he did, he planned the layout of fresh veggie plates that would be part of the evening meal.
Littles were more likely to eat their vegetables if they were raw finger foods rather than cooked, preferably with ranch dressing available to dip them in. He would turn today’s harvest into funny faces on plates for the new batch of trainees arriving this afternoon.
Though he did not have a Little girl of his own, he, like all the staff at Bratburg, was a Daddy Dom through and through. The Littles who were mated to his coworkers also gave him extensive feedback as to how they preferred their healthy foods served, whether he asked for it or not.
Finished with the afternoon’s harvest, Marshall let himself out of the fenced-in garden, just as the institute’s helicopter flew overhead. The next class of trainees had arrived.
As he ambled toward the dining hall, he wondered if another shifter would find his mate out of this batch of young women. It seemed to be happening with more and more frequency, though he doubted he would ever meet the woman meant for him. He had no time to take care of a mate, Little or otherwise, even if his heart, cock, and tiger side yearned for one. Lately, whenever he was not in the kitchen, he was in the gym or the gardens, working to keep his tiger side at peace and under control.
Twenty minutes later, as he finished laying out the vegetables into funny faces on a dozen plates, Lonergan pushed into the kitchen through the closed double doors that led to the dining room.
“Hey, boss,” he greeted before turning his attention back to the tray of vegetable plates.
He finished the plates by setting small cups for dressing in the center of each plate as the nose. The girls would choose their own dipping sauce, though he already knew most would choose ranch dressing.
“Can we talk?” Lonergan asked, sounding serious.
“Yeah, just a second.”
Marshall carried the trays to the refrigerator and slid it onto one of the lower shelves where one of the dinner helpers could grab it quickly. He then went to the sink and washed his hands. Using the bottom of his apron to dry them, he turned to face the institute’s director.
“What’s up?” he asked, leaning against the counter of his favorite workspace. He only had a few minutes before he would need to start cooking the rest of the evening’s meal.
“While I was in the capital today, I hired you an assistant.”
Since he had expected the director to tell him one of the new trainees had food allergies, Lonergan’s announcement was most unexpected.
“You did what?”
“I hired you an assistant.”
Marshall closed his eyes and counted to ten. When that didn’t work, he continued to twenty. And then thirty. Nope. Counting was not doing a thing to cool his anger at Lonergan’s audacity.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to grip the counter so he would not leap across the kitchen and beat Lonergan to a bloody pulp. Not that the dragon shifter would let him, but Marshall might get in a few punches before being smacked to the floor.
Another deep breath and he was able to growl, “Why?”
“Because you need help, and Shaw needed to leave the city. While she’s too old for the retraining program, she’s a professional baker and might be able to help.”
Lonergan sounded so sure that Marshall was momentarily intrigued. “How do you know that?”
“She said she’s been working in professional kitchens since she was sixteen. Most recently, she was the assistant to the head pastry chef at a very popular bakery in the capital.”
A pastry chef. Hmmm, letting her take over the sweet side of the menus would make the Littles happy, especially if she made decent cookies and breakfast pastries.
Looking at the director, Marshall sighed. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”