Chapter 5
2257 Words
Chapter 5
“Well, since the Gamma just ran off to watch your baby sleep, what can I do for you, ladies?” Mrs. Johnson asked, stepping out from the pantry with effortless grace.
“We’re a bit hungry, and waiting for the guys to come home for dinner is going to take a while longer,” Sarah explained, leaning against the counter. “Is there anything quick to eat in the packhouse?”
Mrs. Johnson gave a soft, amused scoff. “Ms. Sarah, you know better than to ask a silly question like that. The packhouse will never, ever run out of food. Now, what can I make for you ladies?”
“We’re totally fine with just some light snacks to hold us over until our mates get home,” Arden offered, and Sarah nodded alongside her.
“Nonsense. Snacks are for children, and you two are anything but,” Mrs. Johnson waved them off with a practiced flick of her wrist, already marching over to dig through the massive commercial refrigerator. Within seconds, she had stacked high-quality deli meats, cheeses, condiments, and containers of freshly pre-sliced vegetables onto the island.
“Hailey, be a doll and fetch the fresh bread from the pantry for me, please,” Mrs. Johnson called out to one of the nearby kitchen Omegas.
“Of course, ma’am,” Hailey smiled brightly, immediately abandoning her prep station to grab the bread.
Sarah eyed the ingredients, her eyes lighting up. “Are you making us sandwiches?”
Arden could hear the distinct thrill of pure excitement vibrating in Sarah’s voice, which seemed a little intense for a basic deli lunch.
“I am. What exactly gave it away?” Mrs. Johnson teased, setting down a jar of specialty ranch.
“Yes!” Sarah exclaimed, giving a mini fist-pump.
Arden couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. “What’s so incredibly great about a sandwich?”
“It’s my cousin Allie’s famous sandwich recipe,” Sarah explained dynamically, gesturing to the counter. “It’s crazy because they’re technically the simplest things ever, but if they’re not constructed in a very specific, precise order, they just don’t taste right. It's an art form.”
Arden raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s just meat and cheese between bread, Sarah.”
“Oh, okay, fine. If you want to be a total skeptic, then let’s do this,” Sarah challenged, a competitive spark flaring in her eyes. “Mrs. Johnson will make my cousin’s famous version, I’ll make a sandwich my way, and you make a sandwich your way. We’ll cut them all into fourths and have the kitchen Omegas blind-taste them to see which one reigns superior.”
Arden stared at her incredulously. “You want to have a sandwich competition? Right now?”
“Why not? We’re going to eat anyway, so we might as well have some fun while we do it,” Sarah responded, turning a hopeful grin toward the head cook.
Mrs. Johnson chuckled, a confident smile spreading across her face as she unbuttoned her cuffs and began rolling up her sleeves. “I am always up for a friendly competition in my kitchen. Let's see what you girls have got.”
With the terms set, the great sandwich cookoff got underway. Sarah, Arden, and Mrs. Johnson claimed three separate workstations across the kitchen, diving into a flurry of slicing, spreading, and stacking.
Mrs. Johnson worked with practiced, graceful movements, expertly replicating Allie’s famous sandwich—the one the entire pack raved over, converting even the most stubborn non-sandwich fans. Sarah took a nostalgic route, crafting the comforting, classic stack she used to make for herself back when she was living alone in her old apartment. Meanwhile, Arden focused on assembling what she confidently believed was the absolute masterpiece of her culinary life.
Once the three women finished plating their creations, each sandwich was cut into four neat, even triangles. The kitchen Omegas stepped up to the line, acting as the ultimate jury. One by one, they tasted a piece from each plate, chewing thoughtfully and entirely in silence. Without letting their expressions slip, they scribbled their anonymous votes on slips of paper and dropped them into a glass mason jar.
When the final ballot was cast, Hailey stepped forward to act as the official announcer. She unscrewed the lid, pulled out the slips, and read the names aloud.
To Arden’s complete and utter shock, it was a clean sweep—every single vote went to Mrs. Johnson’s plate.
“What?!” Arden gaped, staring at the empty plates in disbelief. “This is a conspiracy! A fix!”
Mrs. Johnson let out a warm, hearty laugh. “It’s no conspiracy, dearie. I thought the same thing when the Luna first challenged me to a sandwich cookoff. The only judges back then were the Alpha, the Beta, and the Gamma. I lost three to zero—and I had been making sandwiches for those boys since they were pups! The Luna’s blueprint is just that good.”
“But we used the same ingredients!” Arden whined playfully, throwing her hands up.
“We did, but it’s all about the ratios, Arden,” Sarah chimed in, leaning against the counter with a knowing grin. “The order of the layers, the moisture barrier of the condiments, the distribution of the meat... It's a science. Even I can't quite get it right on my own. That's why I leave it to my cousin, or let the brilliant kitchen staff here handle it.”
“Fine!” Arden grumbled, waving a figurative white flag of surrender. “I know when I’m beaten. I will happily take one of Allie’s legendary sandwiches, Mrs. Johnson.”
“A very wise choice,” Sarah teased, nudging Arden’s shoulder with her elbow. Arden shot her a mock scowl, which only made Sarah giggle.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Johnson proudly placed two fresh, perfectly constructed sandwiches onto plates and slid them over to Sarah and Arden.
Arden looked down at the plate skeptically, still entirely unable to understand what could make a standard deli lunch so legendary. But the very moment she raised the sandwich to her lips and took a bite, every single ounce of her skepticism flew straight out the window.
“Holy crap,” Arden muttered around her mouthful, her eyes widening in pure shock.
“I told you,” Sarah said, already taking a blissful bite of her own and letting out a soft moan of appreciation. “It’s all about the ratio.”
“It’s literally just meat, cheese, sauce, and bread. How can a simple sandwich be this amazing?” Arden stared at the delicacy in her hands, turning it slightly to expertly dissect the exact order and the precise thickness of each ingredient. She was trying to reverse-engineer the magic right there at the counter.
“Honestly, I’ve stopped wondering,” Sarah replied with a laugh, tossing a Dorito into her mouth from a side bowl. “I’ve just learned to enjoy it whenever someone makes it for me.”
“Yo, Gizmo! I smell your sandwich from the living room!” Brandon’s booming, familiar voice called out before he even fully stepped into the kitchen. However, as he crossed the threshold and scanned the room, his brow furrowed in confusion when he didn’t see Allie anywhere.
“The Luna isn’t here, Beta. But I am,” Mrs. Johnson called out with a warm wave of her hand.
“Damn, and here I thought I’d get lucky and snag one of Gizmo’s masterpieces.”
“I can easily make one for you, Beta,” Mrs. Johnson offered, already reaching back toward the counter. “All of the ingredients are still out.”
“Yes, please!” Brandon practically begged, wasting no time as he slid onto a stool at the island. He looked over at the two women, pointing a finger at their lunch. “Sarah, Arden, I see you two are currently enjoying the greatest culinary creation known to human and wolfkind.”
“Arden is trying it for the very first time,” Sarah mumbled around a mouthful of crust.
Brandon gasped dramatically, looking at Arden. “Oh, man! You have been seriously missing out!”
“Apparently so,” Arden nodded, taking another appreciative bite.
“She didn’t believe the hype at first, so we actually had a friendly competition,” Sarah said playfully, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m sure you can guess who won.”
“Oh, Mrs. Johnson, all the way,” Brandon replied without a second thought, completely proud of his certainty. “Look, it’s Gizmo’s sandwich recipe. Even Gordon Ramsay himself couldn’t beat that masterpiece. It's flawless.”
“Hey, don’t let him hear you say that,” Sarah laughed, wiping her hands on a napkin. “He just might take it personally and come challenge my cousin to a televised cookoff!”
“I would literally pay cold, hard cash to see that!” Brandon exclaimed with pure excitement just as Mrs. Johnson slid the freshly made sandwich directly in front of him.
“Pay to see what?” a new voice piped up.
Everyone looked up collectively as Candy strolled into the kitchen, adjusting her hair.
“Hey, are you all done with work for the day?” Sarah asked, leaning back on her stool.
“Nope, just a very late lunch break,” Candy sighed. Then, her eyes instantly locked onto the plates on the island, lighting up with recognition. “Wait, are those the Luna’s sandwiches?”
Arden stared at her, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. “Seriously? You, too?”
“Goddess, don’t even get me started on how much I love those things,” Candy said, completely unbothered by Arden's shock as she claimed the last empty seat at the kitchen island. “I was legit walking over here just to have one.”
“This is precisely why I keep telling the Alpha we need to buy the deli meat in bulk and slice it ourselves,” Mrs. Johnson chimed in, already expertly assembling another masterpiece for Candy. “We are paying far too much to get it pre-sliced at the store with how fast this pack tears through it.”
Arden shook her head in sheer disbelief, taking another bite of her own food. “I never thought I would see an entire community of supernatural beings rave this hard over meat and cheese stuffed between two slices of bread.”
“Oh, shut up. You love it just as much as the rest of us do—you said so yourself,” Sarah said, playfully shoving Arden’s shoulder.
“I never denied that I loved it,” Arden defended herself with a grin, dodging the nudge. “I just think it’s crazy how many other people are obsessed with it.”
Candy took a deep breath, pausing as she sniffed the air of the kitchen curiously. “Wait... why do I smell other, different sandwiches in here?”
“We had a full-on cookoff because Arden didn’t believe my cousin’s recipe was the bomb,” Sarah explained, gesturing to the leftover crusts on the counter. “She lost, of course.”
“Well, of course she did,” Candy replied smoothly, thanking Mrs. Johnson as her plate was set down. “We’re werewolves, Arden. Our senses don't lie. We will tell you upfront if something doesn’t even smell good, let alone taste good. You never stood a chance against the pack favorite. Hell, I never used to even like sandwiches until I tried this one. I won’t touch anyone else’s,” Candy said as she took a massive bite of the concoction.
“Wait, you don’t like sandwiches?” Arden asked, turning to her in confusion.
“I don’t like healthy food,” Candy clarified with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I’m a snacker, all day, every day. And Percy absolutely hates it.”
Sarah let out a laugh, leaning forward on the counter. “Is that why your house has absolutely nothing to eat, ever?” she teased, her tone full of mischief.
“Hey, he can’t cook for s**t!” Candy countered instantly.
“What about you?” Arden shot back, raising an eyebrow.
“I can’t cook either! Why do you think we always eat out or pay for the packhouse meal plan?” Candy defended herself, throwing her hands up. “We're surviving over there!”
“She actually has a fair point on that one,” Brandon chimed in, pointing a thumb at Candy as he swallowed a bite of his own food. “Gizmo created the pack meal plan exactly for that reason—she knew some people in this pack just straight-up cannot cook.”
Candy turned a sharp glare toward him, though a grin tugged at her lips. “Excuse me, Beta, but absolutely no one asked you.” She stuck her tongue out at him playfully.
“Hey, I’m the Beta of this pack,” Brandon stated pridefully, puffing out his chest as he sat at the island. “I don’t need to be asked for my opinion. I can rightfully give it whenever I please.”
His booming, dramatic tone gave him away instantly; he wasn't the least bit serious, earning a collective round of chuckles from the women around the counter and in the kitchen.
- Writer
