Page 3 of Tiger's Little Waif
Lonergan smiled as he shook his head. “Afraid not. Who knows, you might like not having to work sixteen hours a day seven days a week.”
“Where is she?”
“In the dining room. Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Lonergan headed back the way he had come just moments before. During mealtimes, the double doors stood open, but in between, he preferred to keep them closed.
Stepping into the dining room, which made up the rest of the building, Marshall took a deep breath and was stunned when his tiger stood up and roared in recognition. Scanning the room, he found it empty except for a woman slumped at a table just a few yards away, her expression both scared and resigned, as if waiting for bad news.
Taking another breath, he frowned. Her glorious cinnamon and orange scent was tainted by the sourness of pain. When Lonergan stepped in front of him, blocking his view, Marshall shoved the man out of his way as he roared, “Mine!”
Chapter Two
Shaw prepared herself for Lonergan to return and tell her there was no job and she would have to leave Bratburg. No chef she’d ever known would ever allow their boss to hire help without their input.
She jumped when one of the double doors swung open and the director entered the dining area. A second man followed two steps later, no doubt the Institute’s chef. She had just begun to relax from her startle when he stopped, took a deep breath, and rushed toward her, roaring, “Mine!”
She had no time to react before he was right there, scooping her out of her chair and into a fierce embrace, which made every point of pain in her body scream out in protest. Shaw screamed in agony. Her body had stiffened up during the flight to Bratburg, and the last of the over-the-counter painkillers she’d taken earlier had long worn off. It was like being beaten all over again.
The man froze for a few seconds before carefully setting her on her feet. He eased his hold once she was steady as tears rolled down her cheeks. Shaw wiped her face, fighting to breathe shallowly and not make any other sounds that hinted she was in pain. The last thing she needed was to appear weak before her new boss.
It took nearly a minute before she could look up at the man who stared down at her in horror.
He was big. So much bigger than Dan. Then his hair caught her attention. It was beautiful with multicolored patches of reds, browns, tans, and blacks. It had to be natural because he did not seem to be the type to spend the hours it would take to color his hair that way.
“You’re hurt,” he stated in a voice that was more growl than words. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Are you all right, Shaw?” Lonergan asked, though he stood well back.
Shaw opened her mouth to speak, but did not know how to assure the men she would survive, as long as no one hugged her like that again. Swallowing hard, she dropped her eyes to the floor as she lied. “I’m all right.”
“What’s wrong with you, waif?” the man in front of her repeated.
“My ex-husband tried to beat me to death yesterday,” she answered bluntly. She was too tired and in too much pain to filter her words.
The roar that echoed off the walls sent her instinctively to the floor as fear surged and overwhelmed her. She landed hard on her butt, then curled into a ball, bringing her arms up to cover her head. She whimpered as her ass, and the rest of her battered body, let her know she should not make such sudden, radical moves.
The silence that followed was nearly as deafening as the roar had been the moment before.
Shaw remained where she was until a large, warm hand settled on one of the forearms covering the top of her head.
“Oh, waif, I’m so sorry for scaring you. Let’s get you up so we can talk,” the big man said. His voice was nearly as soft and gentle as Gio, her stuffed best friend’s fur.
Breathing through the pain, Shaw slowly brought her arms down before looking up at him. He held out a hand, waiting patiently when she did not immediately take it.
Instead, she took a moment to study him.
He was gorgeous, and his bright cerulean blue eyes appeared worried, but kind. There was no anger or hatred or craziness in them. She had learned to read eyes, and his appeared like two pieces of warm summer sky, calling for her to fall into them and fly.
Finally, she put her hand in his. A feeling of safety and security swept through her as he carefully pulled her to her feet. Standing so close to him, the scent of fresh air and spices surrounded her, making her smile as an unfamiliar warmth sparked to life low in her belly.
Kitchens had always been her happy space. The one place where she felt confident and sure of herself. She loved to cook, especially baking. Her happiest memories of late were taking raw ingredients, mixing them into a dough and then making something that made mouths water when it came out of the oven. Whether it was cookies, cakes or breads, her Little side loved playing with dough. She only hoped the past few minutes hadn’t screwed her chance to get that feeling back.
Releasing the chef’s hand once she was on her feet, Shaw returned to the chair she had been sitting in before his rather dramatic entrance. Once she was seated, he pulled a chair around to face her. He raised a hand, as if he wanted to touch her again, but drew it into a fist and rested it on the table instead.
Lonergan sat down across the table from her and then made the introductions. “Marshall Ramsey, meet Shaw Tucker, pastry chef. Shaw meet Marshall, Bratburg’s chef and your new boss.”
“And your mate,” Marshall added in a low rumble.
“My mate? What does that mean?” Shaw asked, frowning at the man who held her future in his hands.