Page 32 of Knot Happening

“Asshole,” I snarl, snapping my head in his direction, finally looking at him.

“Yep. Your asshole, Starlight. Always have been, always will be.”

I’m panting now. Two parts of my soul at war as I look into those blue eyes. Always have been, always will be…

I want him so badly that it’s taking over every other thought. The ones that tell me he’s no good for me.

Could just one kiss really be so bad?

Yes! Gah, what the fuck! I shake my head and turn to face the window. He’s not going to drag me back into his orbit so damn easily.

No matter how badly my heart wishes that I would just give in.

Now I just need to convince him to stop fucking trying.

Chapter Fifteen

Tatum

I’m tired today. Sometimes, it feels like I just stay tired. Like there’s no in between for me. I’m either tired or asleep. No amount of sleep makes me feel rested enough.

A little voice in the back of my head is whispering that the change of my suppressants might have something to do with it, but I ignore that voice. One thing I won’t be doing is coming off my meds.

Currently, I’m working another midday shift at the diner, trying not to give into the temptation to go nap in Bernie’s office. I’d need to clock out for that, and I can’t afford to.

So instead, I make another cup of coffee and struggle to keep myself up and moving for the rest of my shift. Three more hours to go. I’ve only been here for two. Most of my shifts at the diner are five hours these days. I only work a couple of times a week, too. Sometimes three or four, depending on how busy we are.

I’ll go home and nap before my shift at Haze tonight. I can probably get a few hours in before I need to get ready. I’ve almost made it to my four weeks, and I’m loving it. Last night, Imight have taken a cuff link from a customer, but in my defense, he’d smacked my ass without permission.

Something that doesn’t happen very often, since the club has a no groping rule unless you’ve paid to do so. I get the feeling that's not a super common rule in most clubs like Haze, since most of the time we have to remind the handsier clients.

Just last night, I watched Bubblegum tie an Alpha’s hands behind his back for copping a feel of her ass after being warned to quit touching passing Omegas. It backfired, though, because the Alpha seemed super into being tied up. On the plus side, Bubblegum made a hefty tip.

It’s not long before another customer is seated in my section, so I head over there to take his order. I’m trying really hard to muster the energy to look like I’m more than happy to be here today.

Normally, I would stand beside the customer’s table for this, but when I see who it is, I plop into the booth across from him. When I’m tired, I care a lot less about rules or expectations.

“I haven’t seen you in here before.” I’m tilting my head as I observe the Alpha across from me. “What brings you into Mom’s?” I’m reminded of a time when Declan visited me here, before he became my boss just a few weeks ago. This almost feels like history repeating itself.

“I’m curious about the pie selection offered here at Mom’s.” The man smiles, leaning forward until he’s resting his arms on the table. The smile he sends my way is bright and almost sweet in a way I’m not used to from Alphas. His hair is that sexy sort of messy that looks like someone just had their hands buried in it while they fucked him. And in the bright lights of the diner, his tattoos are even more interesting.

“Everett?” I confirm, and he nods, but there’s a look of annoyance that crosses his face when I say his name. His scent is the same as I remember it from around a week ago when he wasin Haze on my day off. Artificial brownies. The fat free kind that promises one thing but gives you another. Chocolate that has a weird chemical aftertaste. Not quite right. He hasn’t been back since then. At least not while I was working.

“And you’re Tatum. Tell me, Tatum, what’s your favorite thing to eat here at Mom’s?”

I lean back against the booth and nibble my lip for a moment as I think. “I don’t know. I like nearly everything Chef cooks. I’m not super picky, either.” I shrug, “What are some things you enjoy normally, besides pie?”

“I like most food as well, actually, but I’m craving something sweeter today.”

“I’ll go see what we’ve got. Do you want a drink?”

“Just water, thank you.” I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away and can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about. His scent doesn’t give any of his emotions away, so I’m left guessing. Maybe he uses some kind of suppressant mixed with a cover-up.

When I return with a cup of ice water and a slice of apple pie, Everett grins, rubbing the palms of his hands together. “Oh, yeah, this looks perfect.” Even his hands are tattooed, I realize. That's sexy in a way I don’t fully understand.

“It’s one of the bestsellers. I hope you enjoy it!” I place his plate down, and I’m about to go check on my other tables when he stops me.

“When do you get off? Can I take you for dinner?”

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