Page 36 of Alpha Chase

She shrugs as she unzips the top of my bag. “Might as well settle in.” Nessa’s eyes land on the shimmery champagne fabric of the dress I wore last night and she gasps, pulling it out of the duffel. “Oh my gosh, when did you get this?” she asks, unfurling it in her hands. “It’s beautiful!”

“Fallon bought it for me,” I sigh. “I tried to say no, but you know how much she loves that word.”

Nessa smirks knowingly. Fallon has me beat in the stubbornness department by a mile. “What happened?” she asks, fingering the torn strap on the left shoulder of the dress.

“Snagged it on something,” I say quickly, pushing up from the bed. “That reminds me, do you still have your sewing kit?”

Nessa nods, handing the dress back to me before crossing the room to her dresser and opening a drawer to rummage inside. She returns with a little box, thrusting it toward me.

I take it from her and step backwards, sinking down on the edge of the bed and fiddling with the frayed edge of the torn strap.

“Should be an easy fix,” Nessa comments, peering down at the dress in my hands.

“Yeah.” I open up the sewing kit and thread a needle, getting to work.

By the time I’m finished, the dress looks as good as new- you can’t even tell that the strap was once torn. If only erasing the memory of last night was as easy.

“You seem distracted,” Nessa comments, rounding the bar with a tray of empty glasses in her hand.

The lunch rush on Mondays is always crazy- most new guests arrive at the lodge on either Mondays or Fridays, and since check-in isn’t until 2 p.m., they often wait it out by grabbing a bite in the restaurant. Today seems even busier than usual and we’re hopelessly short-staffed, so I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off for the past hour, just trying to keep up. It doesn’t help that I still have an emotional hangover after Saturday night.

“It’s nothing,” I lie. “Just overwhelmed.” I pick up two pint glasses off the bar, cold beer spilling over the rims and onto my hands. “Could you run these to table nine for me?”

“Of course.” Nessa slides the tray full of empties onto the counter, reaching out to take the glasses from me and turning on a heel to go deliver them.

I suck in a breath as I watch after her, eyes scanning the tables situated around the one she’s headed for. I could be imagining things, but I thought I smelled…

No.My mind has to be playing tricks on me. They’ve got three squad warriors on patrol here every day, there’s no way he could’ve gotten past them. He’d have to be pretty stupid to even try. I only smelled it for a second when I was taking an order at table nine, but I haven’t seen him, and I need some sort of confirmation before becoming the girl who cried rogue.

Nessa delivers the beers with a smile, chatting with the guys for a few seconds before turning to head back to the bar.

“All good?” I ask as she approaches.

Her brow creases in confusion. “Yeah… what’s up?”

Guess she didn’t smell it.That’s a good thing though, right? That means it was all in my head. Or maybe it means I’m finally fucking losing it.

“Nothing,” I mumble, clearing off the tray that Nessa abandoned on the bar. “The customers at that table have just been a little fussy.”

Nessa glances back toward table nine dubiously. “Really,thoseguys?”

I follow her gaze to see them downing their beers like it’s a race. They’re college-aged, probably a couple of frat boys here on spring break or something. Not exactly the picture of difficult customers.

“It’s just been a crazy day,” I sigh, playing it off.

Nessa nods sympathetically. “Why don’t you take a break? Get some air or something. I’ll keep an eye on your tables.”

“Yeah, maybe I should,” I say with a wry smile. Stepping out from behind the bar, I grab her shoulder and rise up on my toes to plant a kiss on her cheek as I breeze past. “Thanks. You’re too good to me.”

“Ten minutes!” Nessa calls after me as I head for the storage room, pushing open the door on the other side that opens into the employee locker room. I pass the rows of lockers and the large bathroom, bound for the exit door in the back.

Cold air hits my face as I push it open, my eyes stinging for a second as they adjust to the bright light of the sun reflecting off the snow. I wrinkle my nose at the smell of garbage- and it’s definitely not a rogue this time, but the big blue dumpster that sits near the back door, black bags overflowing out of the top. Monday is also garbage day, and it’s clear that it hasn’t been picked up yet.

I shuffle beside the door, leaning back against the building and drawing a couple of deep breaths, my eyes sliding closed. Maybe I just need a good night’s rest. Nessa’s an angel to take me in, but sleeping on a flimsy futon mattress on the floor of her bedroom while she snores and her sister Elena yaps on the phone until the wee hours of the morning is less than ideal.

I don’t want to report possibly smelling the rogue to the squad warriors on patrol without knowing for sure, but maybe if Chase shows up today, I’ll mention it to him. He was there the last two times, so he’d get it.

Ugh. I’d never admit it out loud, but for the first time, I’m actually hoping he shows up.

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