Honey & Growls

A tiger, a wolf and a dragon walk into a bar. This isn’t the beginning of a joke, it’s the start of my evening.

My bar, The Honey Pot, is the most popular spot in town. As a grizzly bear shifter, I’m big and bad enough to keep order with the rowdy biker crowd. Well, mostly.

Meeting her changes everything. The curvy little spitfire is on a mission to bring me to my knees and my bear is ready to roll over and beg for more.

With my hackles raised and my guard down, I don’t realize my lonely heart has been stolen. I can’t deny myself or my bear any longer. Burning with the urge to claim my mate, I decide it’s time to make my move. I won’t let anyone stand in my way.

Look out little Honey, your growly bear is coming for you.

After knocking on my office door, Bishop strolls into the darkened room. “Another waitress bites the dust.” My bar manager crosses his arms in front of his chest and raises an eyebrow. “Trying to survive Friday night with only two servers is going to suck.” I rub the back of my neck as a massive headache forms behind my temples. Over the last three weeks, we’ve had four employees quit without notice. This shit is getting out of hand.
“Can you call Misty in to work tonight?” The single mother is always looking for extra hours. I sit back and glance out the window across from my desk. Later tonight, patrons will pack the two-story building to the gills. We’re the most popular bar in the downtown area. Pool tables take up the back half of the room. The front has a crescent mooned-shaped dance floor surrounded by huge speakers suspended from the ceiling. Later tonight, loud music will fill every corner of the darkened space. Regulars come to meet up with friends and relax as the younger, wilder crowd competes for a spot on the packed dance floor.
“She’s the waitress who quit.” Bishop sighs. “We’re getting desperate.” No shit, Sherlock. “You might have to relax your shifters-only rule for employees.”
Humans come with too much baggage. Since I opened this bar years ago, I’ve religiously followed my one cardinal rule. Don’t bring human drama into The Honey Pot. I know it’s a crazy name for a nightclub, but it is what it is. One drunken, tiny slip in judgment, and I sentenced myself to using this damn name forever. I’ll be the first to admit, I was stupid to agree to that insane bet with Blaze Fier. The asshole dragon shifter never plays fair.
“Fine.” I throw up my hands in desperation. “I’ll start looking today.” What could go wrong? I have no idea Fate is going to make me eat my words.
The short-staffed bar is slammed, but we limp along, I’m forced to use my rusty, bartending skills to help out when we have more call-ins. Monday, I place ads online and put the word out that I’m hiring. By Thursday, I’ve interviewed and rejected ten candidates. Bishop has three more interviews lined up this weekend while I’m at Blue Sky Mountain.
* * *
It’s a shitty time for me to leave town, but I can’t miss the quarterly Celestial Council meeting. The bar will have to survive without me since I’ll be out of reach for a few days.
I drop my overnight bag in the backseat of my SUV and glance over at my bike. The bike I haven’t touched in weeks. Next weekend, I’ll take it up to my cabin and spend some time decompressing. The extra hours I’ve been putting in at The Honey Pot have cut into my riding time; I’ve been working like crazy with little rest. Without a way to relieve the stress, the pressure is building up and I’m about to explode. “Come on, Tigger,” I call my dog and point to the backseat of my SUV. The apricot, standard poodle jumps up into the vehicle and settles himself on the seat. Guilt runs through me. With my busy schedule, I haven’t been able to take my pet on walks or even interact with him. On my way out of town, I’m dropping him off at my mother’s house. She has two French Bulldogs, Snoopy and Woodstock. The little dogs are looking forward to playing with their friend.