Page 36 of Alpha Theo

“You look good. You should ditch the glasses and t-shirts more often.”

Brooke rolls her eyes, folding her arms. “Look, I’m here with my friends, so if you’re just gonna hassle me…”

The bartender delivers the whiskey shots, setting them down and sliding them toward me.

“On Gray?” he asks, and I nod. I always drink on Gray’s tab here and toss him cash later because they barely charge him for a thing. Perks of being the alpha of Goldenleaf pack.

I pick up one of the shots, holding it out to Brooke. “Shot?”

She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. “No thanks.”

“You don’t like whiskey?”

She shakes her head again.

I turn at the waist, setting the shot back down with the others, then swivel to face Brooke again. “Well what do you like? I’ll buy you a drink.”

She arches a brow. “On Gray’s tab?”

“Yeah, so?”

“That’s not reallyyoubuying me a drink then, is it?”

I roll my eyes. “Do you want one or not, kid?”

She bites her lip again, eyes fluttering to the floor. “No thanks, I’ll buy my own.”

Brooke’s friend Carly creeps up beside her, flashing me a toothy grin. “Hi, Theo!”

Girl isenthusiastic.

“Hey,” I breathe, eyes still locked on Brooke.

Carly turns to Brooke, touching her arm. “Connor’s looking for you. He got you a vodka soda.”

FuckingConnor. I forgot about him.

“Apparently Brooke doesn’t accept drinks from guys,” I grumble, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Her eyes fly up to meet mine, an annoyed glare slicing through me.

“Huh?” Carly asks, looking from Brooke to me.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nothing. You want a drink, Carly?”

Brooke scowls while Carly’s face lights up in delight.

“Yeah, that would be great!” Carly gushes. “A strawberry daquiri? Thank you!”

“No problem.” I toss her a wink, throwing up an arm to wave down the bartender again.

Brooke heaves a sigh. “I’m gonna go find Connor,” she mumbles, setting a hand on Carly’s shoulder and turning around.

Oh damn. The dress she’s wearing has a completely open back- my breath catches in my throat as I take in the shape of her shoulder blades, the curve of her spine, the expanse of smooth, unblemished skin visible from her neck to the small of her back.

“What can I get ya?” the bartender asks, and it’s fucking painful to tear my eyes away from Brooke’s retreating form to respond to him.

“Uh… what did you want?” I ask, side-eyeing Carly.

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