Page 59 of Rut Bar

“Nah,” he says. “I’ve had worse. A little ice and ibuprofen and I’ll be fine.” He looks at me and gives me a halfhearted version of his signature panty melter smile. “You should see the other guy.”

I would laugh, but my heart hurts too much to find any of this situation funny. Anthony is right, though. Aside from some shadowing on his shoulder that’s going to turn into a nasty bruise and his bloodied knuckles, he’s okay.

I’m drained, but it’s going to be hours before this mess is sorted. We have to take photos and save the security footage for the insurance company, then board up the broken window and sweep up the glass. I’ll be lucky if we get home before dawn.

Sighing, I nod and watch the EMT slap a disposable ice pack into his hand. She looks between us and shrugs. “I can’t make you go, but if it’s still hurting after a few days, you’ll want to go get that looked at.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ve got stuff to do that doesn’t involve sitting in a hospital for hours for them to tell me I’m fine and to put ice on it and take some ibuprofen. I can do that at home.”

It’s my heat that he doesn’t want to risk missing. He’s too stubborn to risk a doctor telling him he’s got a hairline fracture that needs surgery if it means he’ll miss my heat. It’s so asinine that I want to slap him upside the back of his head for being so stupid, but my insides feel too soft and fuzzy to stay mad at him for long.

The truth is, he stepped up. Protected the bar and the other staff. Minimized damage and took down the threat swiftly. I can’t help but be impressed.

He did it for me. Got hurt for me, risked his life for me. He was outnumbered by bigger alphas, yet he didn’t hesitate. He got into the fray and fixed it.

And he said he wasn’t my white knight.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” I ask.

“I have seven siblings and thirty-two cousins.” He shrugs. “Eventually you learn how to stop getting your ass kicked.”

“I’ll trade you,” the EMT says, handing him a fresh square of gauze for his bleeding knuckles. She takes the old ones with her blue gloves and discards them in a bag of trash.

Rationally I know that he needs to go get looked at and missing one heat won’t matter in the long run, but the omega instincts I work so hard to squash make me tremble with anticipation at taking this strong, stubborn, battered beta into my nest. He’s a good defender. He’ll be a great nest guardian one day. And right now, it doesn’t matter that I have zero plans to have a baby anytime soon. That insidious omega instinct is always there. It simmers under the surface, ready to rise at any moment. My ovaries are holding up a flashing neon sign that sayspick this one!

And I’m getting really fucking tired of saying no to this man when all I really want is to say yes.

I open my mouth to tell him to stop being stupid and go get looked at, but he hooks an arm around my waist so he can tug me against him. He buries his face in my neck and the faint scent of cherries makes me lose all sense of reason.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles against my collarbone. “But if you wanna kiss it and make it better…”

Despite my heart ache, anger, and fear, he makes me laugh. I card my fingers through his hair and neaten the unruly waves.

I was so angry at first when he manhandled me and kept me from defending my bar, but seeing the damage those alphas wrought and the state they’re going to the hospital in soothes the sting. He fucked them up good. Between their injuries and the charges we’re pressing, I hope this is the last we’ll see of that alphahole and his stupid friends.

“Let’s go home,” he says. He sits upright, and the EMT comes back with a form for him to sign.

After he’s signed them, he hops out of the back of the ambulance and ditches his ice pack in their rig. He puts his uninjured hand between my shoulders and steers me toward the parking lot.

“Wait,” I say, “I need to call the insurance company and take photos and then we have to board up the window, and?—”

“And that’s what your staff is for. It’s not like they’re gonna be dancing or bartending for the rest of the night anyway. They can handle boarding up the window and taking photos and then everyone can pitch in and clean. You can call the insurance company from home. Come on. Hey, Jamie! We’re going home. Get your van.”

“But—”

Anthony shuts me up with a kiss, and my hormones are running so high that it almost works. It nearly makes me forget the mountain of paperwork I have to do. “It’s actually decent timing if you think about it. Now you can take a break from work for your heat without feeling guilty about missing anything because there is absolutelynothingyou need to do over the next few days while Rut is shut down for repairs. I’ll check in with Dan every single day, I promise. Leave your car, Vee. We’ll figure it out later.”

It’s reasonable, and deep down I know that the only reason I want to say no is because it wasn’t my idea. But he’s right. There’s no reason the others can’t sweep up broken glass and mop up spilled alcohol. If I hurry, I can get the insurance report filed and get a new front window ordered before my first bout of heat delirium makes me knot-drunk and useless. I blow out a breath that leaves me feeling weary. “Fine.”

Jamie and Brendan both meet us in the parking lot, and Jamie unlocks his vintage van with his key. Brendan’s shoved his hands in his pockets, and he stands there awkwardly next to the van while we all climb in. “Veronica, I’m sorry about the state of the club. I’ll let the office know you’ll be closed temporarily for repairs.”

My stomach sinks with the intuition that he’s not coming with us. And then I’m irritated, because why should I care? He’s basically a stranger. I’ve only known him for a week. I only care because I’m in preheat and I like the way he smells.

It’s stupid omega instincts, that’s all. I’ve lived my entire life without them and I don’t need them now. So I do what I’m good at. I shove those useless yearning feelings down and ignore them while I pretend that his subtle rejection doesn’t hurt one bit. “Thank you, Agent Hall.”

Brendan winces at the not-so-subtle reminder of his place and Jamie finally picks up on what’s happening. Jamie leans out the driver’s side window. “Are you gonna follow in your car?”

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