CHAPTER ONE – CHEESY FINGERS

Cassie never imagined one day she will fall in love with a dangerous man, a werewolf and the one accidentally kissed her in a series of incidents. The secrets behind the werewolf will be uncovered by them and Cassie is also facing a big challenge. —— The morning rush at Cheesy Fingers was in full swing. Cassie Hartman weaved between tables, her arms laden with plates of steaming food. The clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation filled the air. "Order up!" The cook's voice boomed from the kitchen. Cassie hurried to the counter, expertly balancing three plates on one arm while grabbing a fourth with her free hand. She approached a table where a family of four sat, their eyes glued to their phones. "Alright, folks," Cassie said cheerfully. "Who had the triple-cheese omelet?" A teenage boy grunted without looking up. Cassie placed the plate in front of him. "And the blueberry pancakes for the little lady?" She set another plate down in front of a young girl who barely acknowledged her presence. As Cassie distributed the remaining plates, the mother finally glanced up. "Excuse me, but I asked for my eggs over easy. These are clearly over medium." Cassie's smile didn't falter. "I'm so sorry about that, ma'am. I'll get that fixed for you right away." She hurried back to the kitchen, dodging other servers and narrowly avoiding a collision with a busboy. As she pushed through the swinging doors, she nearly ran into Mr. Thompson, the owner of Cheesy Fingers. "Watch where you're going, Hartman!" he barked. "And tie back that mess you call hair. This is a restaurant, not a hair salon." Cassie nodded, quickly tucking a stray strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. "Yes, Mr. Thompson. Sorry about that." She approached the cook, a burly man named Frank. "Hey, Frank. I need a do-over on table seven's eggs. Over easy this time." Frank grunted. "You sure you got it right this time, Cassie? I don't want to be remaking orders all day." "I'm sure, Frank. Thanks." As she waited for the eggs, Cassie's mind wandered to her high school graduation just a few months ago. She remembered standing alone in her cap and gown, watching other students celebrate with their families. A familiar ache tugged at her heart, but she pushed it aside. She had made it this far on her own, and she wasn't about to let self-pity derail her now. "Order up!" Frank's voice snapped her back to reality. Cassie grabbed the plate and hurried back to table seven. "Here you go, ma'am. Over easy, just as you requested. I'm terribly sorry for the mix-up." The woman eyed the eggs suspiciously before nodding. "Well, at least you got it right this time." Cassie's next stop was a table where an elderly couple sat, looking confused at their menus. "Good morning," Cassie said warmly. "Can I help you folks decide on something?" The old man squinted at her. "What's this 'Cheesy Fingers Special'? Sounds unsanitary if you ask me." Cassie chuckled. "Oh, don't worry, sir. It's just our signature dish. It's a grilled cheese sandwich with three types of cheese and a secret blend of spices. Comes with a side of our homemade tomato soup. It's actually quite delicious." The old woman perked up. "Oh, that does sound nice. We'll have two of those, dear." "Excellent choice," Cassie said, jotting down the order. "Anything to drink?" "Just water for me," the old man said. His wife smiled. "I'll have a coffee, please. Decaf if you have it." "Coming right up," Cassie said, turning to leave. The old woman reached out and touched Cassie's arm. "You're such a nice young lady. Your parents must be very proud." Cassie's smile wavered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. "That's very kind of you to say, ma'am. I'll be right back with your drinks." As she headed to the beverage station, Cassie felt a familiar pang in her chest. Parents. Proud. Those were words that didn't quite fit into her life story. She thought about Mrs. Johnson, her last foster mother before she aged out of the system. Mrs. Johnson had been kind, in her own way, but she'd had five other foster kids to look after. There hadn't been much time for pride or celebration. Cassie shook off the memories and focused on filling water glasses and pouring coffee. She had a job to do, and dwelling on the past wouldn't help her pay this month's rent. As she returned to the elderly couple's table with their drinks, she overheard a heated conversation from a nearby booth. "I'm telling you, Mark, this isn't working anymore," a woman was saying, her voice thick with emotion. The man across from her sighed heavily. "Come on, Sarah. We can work this out. We've been through worse." Cassie set down the drinks for the elderly couple as quietly as possible, not wanting to interrupt the tense scene unfolding nearby. "Here you are," she said softly to the old couple. "Your Cheesy Fingers Specials should be ready soon." As she turned to leave, she heard the woman in the booth raise her voice. "Work what out, Mark? The fact that you're never home? Or maybe the constant lies about where you've been?" Cassie winced internally. She'd seen enough relationships crumble during her years in foster care to recognize the signs of one falling apart. She made her way back to the kitchen, trying not to eavesdrop further. Just as she pushed through the swinging doors, she heard Mr. Thompson's gruff voice. "Hartman! Where's the order for table twelve?" Cassie's eyes widened. In the chaos of the morning rush, she'd completely forgotten to put in the order for a table of businessmen who'd arrived earlier. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Thompson," she stammered. "I'll put it in right away." Mr. Thompson's face reddened. "Sorry doesn't cut it, Hartman! Those are important customers. They don't have all day to wait around for their food because you can't get your act together." Cassie felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "It won't happen again, sir. I promise." "It better not," Mr. Thompson growled. "One more slip-up like this, and you'll be looking for a new job. Do I make myself clear?" Cassie nodded, fighting back tears. "Crystal clear, sir." As Mr. Thompson stormed off, Cassie took a deep breath to compose herself. She'd faced worse than this. She thought back to her first foster home, where she'd been nothing more than free labor for a family that saw her as a paycheck from the state. At least here, she was earning her own money. She quickly put in the order for table twelve and then made her rounds to check on her other tables. As she approached the booth where the arguing couple sat, she noticed the woman was now alone, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. Cassie hesitated for a moment before approaching. "Is everything alright, ma'am? Can I get you anything?" The woman looked up, her mascara smudged. "Oh, I'm fine. Just... just bring me the check, please." Cassie nodded sympathetically. "Of course. Take your time." As she walked away, Cassie couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for the woman. She'd never been in a serious relationship herself – moving from foster home to foster home hadn't exactly provided many opportunities for romance – but she could imagine how painful it must be to watch a relationship disintegrate over a plate of half-eaten pancakes.