Page 162 of Rut Bar

“I love carbs! And wine!” Steven shouts in the background, breaking the tension. “And I can’t wait to meet your mates. Just wait till you see the mating gift we got you.” He cackles.

Chuckling, I tuck loose strands of hair behind my ear. “I’ll see you then. And Uncle Brian… Thank you.”

“I’ll text you dates, short stack,” he says. “Love you, bye.”

“Bye.” The call ends and I palm my phone, staring out the window. The new MC comes out on stage and the crowd’s energy ratchets up as the first dancer comes through the curtain. I watch the routine, but I’m not really paying attention.

My phone chirps with a text, and at first I think that was a quick response from my uncles until I see it’s from Nate. The fire department is at his club and they’re being shut down. I sit at my desk and kick my heels off my aching feet.

As if my words spoke it into existence, a fight actually broke out between two alphas arguing over an omega who’d been seeing both of them and didn’t expect to run into her boyfriend while she was out with her sidepiece. There’s some broken glass from a thrown tray of drinks, but nobody is seriously hurt and, even more important, the club didn’t take any damage.

I cackle and tear out of my office chair. It rolls back and hits the window. Brendan looks up from his phone. I’m not sure when he came in and sat down, that’s how distracted I’ve been.

“They’re being shut down,” I tell him as I join him on the sofa. I throw my legs over his good knee and he palms them. “Just for the night. Oh, this is good.” Everyone who’s there tonight is going to be talking about it tomorrow. They’re going to pick up their phones and text their friends and bitch to their girlfriends that they got kicked out of the hot, new alpha strip club by hot firefighters.

“Try to sound less happy about it,” Brendan jokes, grinning. He might not understand why this is such a good thing, but he sees my enthusiasm.

I tap my phone against my cheek as I think. The publicity is good, but more is better. But we can’t pull stunts like this too often or we’ll lose the liquor license. We need to keep the cops happy for the most part, without being too boring. What we may need is protection.

Guess it’s a good thing that one of my mates is very well connected. If things go south with the police and they make trouble, it shouldn’t be too hard to call in some favors, although I don’t want to take that leap too early, especially without talking to Anthony about it first. He’s conflicted when it comes to his family, and I get it.

Plus the mob would expect a cut of the door and the margins will be too slim in the beginning to handle that. It’s better to leave that ace up our sleeve and broach the subject with Anthony only if there’s no other way.

Brendan is tapping away at his phone and, curious, I lean over to see his screen. “Who are you texting?” I ask.

“I went to college with a woman who works at a small news station in New York.” After a few minutes, his phone dings with her reply and he grins. “She works in a different department, but she’s going to text her friend who’s a broadcaster. They’ll send a van and it’ll be on the news in an hour.”

My mouth falls open in surprise, then curls into a smile. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Only four times today.” He puts his phone down and looks at me with an expression of utter fondness.

“Oh, only four? How lax of me.” His thumb digs into the ball of my foot, a knot releasing. I sigh and melt into a puddle in his lap, returning his fond look with one of my own.

“I thought so, but I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“It’s been a busy day for you. Building an empire, plotting world domination, lying to the police, instigating a raid. You’ve had your hands full.”

“Mmm. I could get my hands full of something else,” I say as I pull my foot from his delicious grasp and climb onto his lap.

My skirt rides up my thighs as I straddle him. His hands go to my ass to keep me steady. Or to grab a handful of ass. He’s good at multitasking like that. His tie is silky soft against my hand as I loosen it, reaching for his shirt buttons.

Even after all this time, he still dresses like the auditor he was when he walked into Rut all those months ago. I wouldn’t have it any other way. If there’s one thing I love more than my buttoned up auditor, it’s ruffling him up and seeing him messy, then peeling him out of his suit.

“Bad time for dinner?” Anthony says from the doorway. He stands there with two white plastic bags bulging with takeout in his hands, and my stomach clenches. It’s Italian. I can smell the sauce and the garlic from here. He must have gone to his uncle Tony’s again. Because he knows it’s my favorite and Anthony’s sweet like that. He pays attention to the little things.

Jamie comes up behind him, either on break or between sets. “That smells good. I’m starving.”

Anthony unpacks the takeout on Brendan’s desk, and I gawk at the portions. Did he order the entire restaurant? I slide off Brendan’s lap, and we join them.

“I hope you’re hungry enough to eat a horse,” I joke as Anthony passes out plastic wrapped cutlery.

“I could never,” Jamie says, his smile slipping into a look of devastation. He glances at the takeout with longing. “Horses are too cute.”

Everyone freezes for a beat, and then Anthony shakes his head. “No horses were hurt for our dinner, babe. It’s a saying, that’s all. I got you chicken marsala with an extra side of broiled broccoli.”

“Oh, okay. I like chicken.” Jamie takes his takeout container and I lean on him for support as I go up on my tiptoes to kiss my sweet himbo on his cheek.

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