The Waitress and Her Alpha

| I - Serving Sarcasm - |

The diner is rolling in customers, my hips swaying left and right through the tight seating. I let myself sigh in annoyance when a kid squats through my legs getting a full view of my polka dot panties. So much for wearing clothes. The mother apologies profusely dragging the kid away, but the damage has been done, and I for one wish to forget this disgusting scenario. Not to mention he complimented them. A brat, but at least a bold one.

Plates balance on my forefingers as I twist and turn, almost a ballet performance like when I was younger, but now is not the time to recall fond memories. A ding from behind me returns my thoughts to the hot plates in my grasp. It's a horrid beckon back to the front to drag more food to these unsatiable tables. I rush between the rest of the people to my target, the tasty looking men.

The sound is horrible when I let them clatter onto the table, my lack of fucks to give today running me thin. The blonde male gives me an eye elevator, one that I personally don't appreciate, however tips are based on appearance. If he thinks me pretty, maybe he thinks me worthy of a bill.

"Done looking? I don't have time to be entertainment today." I spit at him, the blonde recoiling. Welp there went that. I've always been known to have a hot tongue, and in this moment of pure frustration – a server horribly in the weeds – it has come out to play.

"The name is Tyson, Tyson Wells. I was just admiring your beauty." His voice is inviting, a subtle undertone of seduction. Cute, but not my type.

"Oh wow. Still don't care. I would appreciate if you admired that food and told me if you needed anything else?" I wave my hand over the steaming food, the men looking down and checking their silverware. The other more brindle haired man meets my eyes a forgotten heat shooting to my core. Some men enjoy a woman that puts them in their place, others wanting a dainty female begging for a savior. I would be neither. I enjoy putting everyone more than arms-length away and keeping them there.

"Ares Gray." He reaches his hand out keeping his eyes connected with him. I meet him in the middle giving him a firm shake a spike of electricity zipping through my body. Had I walked over carpet or rubbed my head against a balloon?

"Veronica Smite." The words are fused with curiosity and confusion. He smiles at me, a flash of gold coming over his eyes. I look around to make sure no one else saw it, and he draws me back into his presence. I've never laid eyes on someone so handsome. The rugged but business feel that drips from him, or the power that leaks from his skin surrounding me in a choak. What I wouldn't do to take this man to the storage closet, maybe?

"Well damn a hot woman with a badass name, such a pleasure to be sitting here." Tyson mumbles letting his thumb run over the edges of his chin. I run my tongue over my teeth and give him a certain face of intolerance.

"That's my cue to step away. I do have other paying customers, gentlemen." I give them my back and start to walk away the whistle of a male following me. My good friend Jessica runs by me with knives in her silverware holder, I grab a sharp steak knife and turn back to the men, "I think I forgot to bring you a steak knife."

The blonde, Tinsel, gives me a look and I smile the fakest smile I could muster, "We have burgers?"

"You never know," I use all my grip strength to stab the knife into the burger, the knife standing straight up between me and the idiot, "When you need one." It was the clatter of the plate shaking with the food that sent the message clear.

"Did she just-" He gets angry quick, but the brindle stops him holding out a hand. Tinsel settles quickly almost afraid to ignore his command.

"Well deserved, Tyson. Let her be. Thank you, ma'am." My body shivers at his voice, the words running over my skin to raise goosebumps. It's been a long time since a man has affected me so much, the terror of a relationship frightening me enough to run from the table.