Page 110 of Citius

His collarless blue chambray shirt may as well have been painted on, perfectly outlining the powerful musculature underneath. As handsome as ever, but his expression was pinched, and his mannerisms unusually reserved—even for Wyatt.

Were the scent blockers Cal prescribed giving him side effects? At least they seemed to be working. The lack of reaction from the partygoers was proof enough.

Joaquin sidled up, wearing an olive shirt, sleeves rolled back to reveal the lean muscles of his tattooed forearms and a leather cuff on his left wrist. He’d gotten a haircut in the few days since I’d last seen himandtidied up his beard, giving his unique features a charming sleekness.

Thankfully, he hadn’t ditched his nose ring and wallet chain for the evening. Turned out I liked Joaquin better with a bit of an edge.

“They’re a bunch of pussycats once you get to know them. But keep an eye out for Ethel.” He pointed his beer toward the wiry redhead at the back of Tabitha’s pack, who was giving a visibly perplexed Wyatta detailed cocktail order. “She cheats at poker.”

“Robbed you blind?” Piper teased.

“Every time. I could probably pay off my student loans with the amount she’s swindled out of me.”

Piper pulled a face. “Then stop playing with her, you idiot.”

“It makes her happy.” Joaquin shrugged, taking a swig of beer. “And helps keep the peace during holidays.”

He and I exchanged a knowing glance. Tabitha had insisted on being a stabilizing force in her nephews’ childhoods, regularly flying out to Arizona to join them for birthdays and holidays. The fact that the tradition had continued and expanded to include Owen’s packmates made me appreciate her efforts even more.

“Your loss then,” Piper said with a wave as she flounced off.

She joined the small group gathered around the bookshelves, admiring Alijah’s framed photographs. They called him over to explain how he’d captured a particular shot at the ballet, and he responded with a beaming smile.

I tried not to be envious. Besides a polite nod when I arrived, he hadn’t talked to me once all evening. Was he still upset about the neighbor thing?

“Are we good?” I couldn’t help but ask Joaquin in a low voice.

Resting his elbow on the mantlepiece, Joaquin tilted his head toward me and leaned closer, though his focus never left his mate.

“Yes and no. I get it. But Alijah… He has hang-ups. Insecurities. Big ones. And a lot of them have to do with money.”

The insight into Alijah’s behavior was both helpful and aggravating.

“He thinks less of himself?”

Joaquin nodded, taking another sip of beer. “Mhm.”

“But that’s not… It’s mostly my settlement money.”

“I know, Morgan.” Joaquin turned toward me, inching a bit closer. “Did some research on your company—and I’ve read up on you. I know that you’ve had to struggle to get here.” His fingers flexed, entering my personal space, then retreated to grip his beer with both hands. “But Alijah still doubts ifhe’sgood enough forme, and you’re leagues ahead of—”

“No,” I interrupted with a sting of certainty. “It’s the other way around. He’s the one that’s too good.”

A slow, roguish smile worked its way across Joaquin’s face, deepening the dimple on his left cheek until it reached maximum impact. His eyes resembled warm pools of chocolate velvet.

“Can I get you a drink, doc?” he asked, clinking the neck of his beer against the rim of my plate.

“Um, okay,” I stuttered, unsure what had just passed between us. Unable to remember what non-alcoholic options were available, I glanced toward the kitchen—only to find Wyatt leading his aunt in our direction.

“Tabitha,” Joaquin all but purred. “Now that you and your ladies are here, the party can finally start.”

“You smooth talker.” She gave his cheek a fond pat. “You’re looking rather sharp. Knew your mate would clean you up in no time.”

Wyatt moved closer. His elbows were tucked against his sides, and his unsettled blue stare hovered above my left shoulder.

“Morgan, this is Aunt Tabby. And this is…” He faltered, uncertain how to define me. Next-door neighbor, work colleague, or his biggest mistake. I’d opt for the living, breathing embodiment of regret.

“Morgan Van Daal,” Joaquin interjected smoothly, winking at Tabitha before steering Wyatt toward the kitchen. “But you already knew that.”

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