Page 47 of Rut Bar

“I am,” Brendan says.

“You should come by as a customer,” Anthony says. “You might find the show you’re looking for.”

Brendan tilts his head and frowns. “I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re asking. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. Just… not really my thing.”

“What are you doing?” I hiss at Anthony under my breath.

Anthony ignores me. He pulls me against his side and sets a proprietary hand on my hip. His thumb draws circles that make my pussy tingle even though it’s sore. “Notreallyyour thing ornotyour thing? Those are two different statements,” he says.

Brendan fidgets and frowns. “Umm…”

“Got it,” Anthony says. “You might have fooled around in college once or twice, but you’ve never dated a man. Probably didn’t get much further than fumbling hands or a sloppy blowjob. A mouth’s a mouth, right?”

I slap a hand over my face and groan because I can’t bear to see this trainwreck. There doesn’t seem to be any stopping it unless I gag my mouthy beta who doesn’t know when to quit.

What did I do to deserve this?

“Nobody’s gonna make you do anything you don’t thoroughly enjoy,” Anthony says. “Come by tonight if you’re curious.”

Brendan doesn’t answer as he turns and leaves, the door banging into the metal keg behind him as it tries to bounce closed. I rub at the growing ache in my head. My feet hurt. I need to wash up, and we need to put the filter on high to get rid of the scent of our sex before the rest of the staff arrive.

Anthony and I need to have words.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask him as I step away from them both so Jamie can rise from his place on the floor. Jamie adjusts the bulge in his pants, and I realize that we’ve forgotten about him once more.

“He wants you,” Jamie says. “I can smell it.”

“That’s not true. Not every guy who comes to Rut wants to fuck me. And he’s not even here because he wants to be. He’s doing a job. A job we need him to do well. I shouldn’t have to explain that sexually harassing him is bad for business. Do you feel good about risking everything I’ve built here over the last five years for an orgasm? Was it worth it?”

Jamie has the decency to appear chastised, but Anthony’s face is a mask of perfect neutrality. “You want him too,” is all Anthony says in his defense.

“W-what? That’s…” Impossible. A bad idea. I try to deny it, but the words get stuck.

Anthony does up his pants and finger combs his hair into place. “I’m working on getting him for you. Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Even if that means bringing a relative stranger into this when things are tenuous at best. You don’t make it easy to court you, Vee.”

That’s his idea of courtship?I blink in stunned silence.Of course it is.He’s only a couple years younger than me, either twenty-seven or twenty-eight, but in some ways he’s a lot younger. It doesn’t excuse his behavior, but it makes sense. I grew up hard and fast because I had to. There was no other option but to survive or fail. Still, that doesn’t mean I can let this stand.

“If you endanger Rut, you won’t like me,” I warn him. “You won’t enjoy the response you’ll get.”

“You’re right. And I’m sorry. I pushed it too far.” He hangs his head and nervously drags his hand through his already straightened hair. He’s silent as we all adjust to this abrupt shift in mood.

“But I’m also not wrong,” he says. “You work with a lot of alphas and nobody’s made you perfume as hard as you have in the last few days,” Anthony says. “Don’t blame it on your heat either. Everyone can smell your interest.”

Fuck.I don’t know what to do with that.Everyone can smell me?I thought I was doing an okay job hiding it.

“It’s okay,” Anthony says when I’m too stunned to finish my sentence. “Jamie likes the way he smells too. And I enjoy ruffling his uptight attitude. He might be pack material. I still need to figure out a few things, but he has the potential to be promising.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I wheeze. He’s our IRS agent. We can’t fuck our fucking IRS agent who is fuckingauditingthe bar. And Anthony’s not the person in charge of putting my pack together. I am. If I even want one.

“Is it ridiculous?” Anthony asks. “So your pussy’s not getting wet right now at the thought of having him under you? His scent rubbed all over your naked body? Him and Jamie teasing each other while you watch their show? I could stick my hand up your skirt and check if your panties are wet.”

Anthony reaches for me, but I dance away from him and scowl. “That’s enough.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting the comfort and security of a pack. But you’re not ready yet. I didn’t mean to push it this soon. How about this? If he doesn’t come tonight, I won’t bring it up again. Promise.”

He holds a pinky out to me, and I stare at it before I realize what he wants. A pinky promise. It’s so silly and juvenile and the gesture throws me mentally off balance. My irritation fizzles out.

Arguing with Anthony is like trying to push a boulder up a hill. The boulder always rolls back down into the gutter no matter how high you get it toward the peak.

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