Page 12 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

"Oh," Ash whispers behind me. "That's festival guy? Damn, boss."

"Shut up," I hiss, but my whole body's already humming with awareness. My Omega instincts purr at his presence, remembering how his lips felt against mine, how his masculine scent whirls around me like protection and promise and?—

"You're drooling." Ash nudges me as Garrett chooses a quiet spot at the side of the bar, glancing my way.

I pretend I don't see him. Is it suddenly really hot here?

"Go get him, tiger, but play it cool. Alphas love the chase."

"I hate you," I whisper.

"Love you too, boss." He grins. "Now goserveyour man before I do."

I take a deep breath, trying to ignore how my skin prickles with electricity as I approach, a grin dying to spread across my lips. Up close, his eyes are even greener than I remember, his lips turning upward at the corners when he sees me.

"Couldn't stay away?" I manage to sound casual despite my racing heart. "Here to check out the competition?"

His laugh does things to my insides that should be illegal. "Maybe I just missed your cardamom ale."

"Sure it wasn't my sparkling personality?"

"That, too." He leans forward slightly, and his masculine scent makes me want to bare my neck. "How've you been, Ruby?"

The way he says my name melts me. "Oh, you know. Just running my bar, avoiding Christmas spirit, the usual."

"And how's that working out?" He gestures to the subtle holiday decorations I finally put up.

"Temporary insanity. What can I get you?"

"Surprise me."

The way he says it, deep and trusting, sends shivers down my spine. I turn to hide my reaction, pulling out my special reserve glass. The porter pours dark as night with a perfect cream head, and I catch myself making it extra perfect, taking more time than usual. Since when do I try to impress Alphas?

"You always take such care with every pour?" His voice carries genuine interest, not mockery.

"Only for customers who appreciate the art." I slide the glass over, hyper-focused on how his fingers brush mine. "Though some just want whatever's cheapest and fastest."

"Their loss." He takes a slow sip, and the way his throat moves should not be this fascinating. "Perfect temperature. You know most places serve craft beer too cold?"

"Kills the flavor profile." I lean against the bar, falling into the comfortable rhythm of beer talk. "Eve used to say if you're going to do something?—"

"Do it right or not at all," he finishes. Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us.

"You really did know her well."

"Yep. She'd let me study her recipes after hours, taught me about proper temperature control, fermentation times..." His hands move as he talks, and I notice a small scar across his right knuckle. "Eve knew everything." His smile turns softer. "Including how to spot someone who needed a chance."

The weight of memory settles in my chest, reminding me of how badly her loss still sits inside me. Time might help me accept the loss of a loved one, but I find time also deepens the ache. Noticing a new customer, I excuse myself and get busy making another customer's whiskey sour, too aware of Garrett's gaze following my movements.

"You're different here," he says when I return. "More... yourself."

"This is my territory." I gesture to the bar, the warm wooden walls, the Christmas lights I finally let Ash put up.

"It suits you." The intensity of his gaze makes my skin tingle. He inhales deeply, eyes darkening as if inhaling my scent, admiring it.

Heat floods my cheeks. An Alpha making such a move should feel invasive to me.

He takes another drink, throat working, and I definitely don't imagine how it would feel to run my tongue along his pulse point.

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