Page 34 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

"I feel like it's been too long since I've seen you," a deep voice makes me nearly choke on my breath.

I shove my phone away, looking up to find Garrett standing at the bar, wearing that smile that makes my insides flutter. His button-up shirt stretches across broad shoulders, the brewery logo crisp above his heart. Everything about him radiates sex god—from his rolled-up sleeves showing muscled forearms to the way he carries himself with quiet confidence.

"I came by yesterday, but they said you weren't in."

My gaze drops to his mouth before I can stop it, remembering our kiss, his head between my thighs in the cellar, and the flowers he'd sent after. I'm swooning over one Alpha right after agreeing to date another. But something feels different today. Like I'm finally pushing back against the cage I built around myself. Like I deserve this.

Ash smirks knowingly as he pours a draft, giving me the side sneaky stare… The bastard is dying to tease me.

"Everything okay?" Garrett reaches across the bar, his thumb gentle as he wipes away a stray tear I missed. The touch sends electricity racing down my spine. "Tell me who made you cry, and I'll make them wish they were never born." His words are dark, and I believe he means every word.

"That's dark," I say, but find myself grinning. "And sort of sexy."

"I live to serve." His smirk is hypnotic, but there's steel underneath the warmth. "Though we only ever seem to catch up in this bar. What do you say about seeing what the outside world looks like? Promise I don't transform into anything in the sun."

I laugh despite myself, eyes trailing over how his shirt pulls across his chest when he leans forward. He's stunning in that rugged way that makes my hands itch to touch; deep green eyes seem to see right through me.

"That sounds excellent," Ash chimes in, nudging me in the side with his elbow. "Bar's dead. I've got this."

"Maybe something to eat for a late lunch?" Garrett suggests, and his voice has dropped lower, more intimate. "I know a place."

I'm suddenly feeling hot, my stomach giddy.

I hesitate, guilt twisting in my gut about Knox, but I nod. "Sure." Am I really doing this? Dating two men while my world crumbles around me? Mom would be horrified. But maybe that's exactly why I should.

"Give me ten minutes to dash upstairs and change clothes, and I'm in."

His grin has me needing to please him further. I dart upstairs, ready to dive into the shower for the world's fastest wash.

Clean and dressed, I find Garrett waiting for me by the bar door, and once we're outside, I swear I spot Marcus's Mercedes idling down the street.

I freeze, but Garrett steps smoothly into my line of sight, his body angling protectively, facing me.

"Hey, I have a better idea. You know the fair's in town down by the park?"

When I peek around him, the car's gone. Still, Garrett read something in my expression because he adds, "Lots of people, good food, Christmas lights."

A warning flares in my mind—Mom's voice, telling me how they draw you in with sweetness before showing their teeth—but for once, I shove it aside. I can't let the past control me forever. I won't.

Buttoning up my coat, I answer his smile with one of my own and a nod.

Minutes later, we're parked near the park, where the winter fair sprawls toward us. A massive Christmas tree marks the entrance, twinkling lights reflecting off the frozen waterfall behind it. Carnival music plays, and the air is thick with delicious smells—popcorn, fried dough, grilling meat.

"I haven't been to the fair in years," I admit as we walk, our arms brushing.

"No? Then we're definitely doing this right." Garrett steers me toward a red-and-white striped food truck with a sign reading,Klaus's Krazy Krauts - Award-Winning Artisanal Wursts.The elderly man behind the counter greets Garrett by name.

"You haven't had one?" he asks me incredulously, and I shake my head. His hand settles on my lower back, warm and steady, then lifts his head to the food truck. "Klaus, we need to fix this tragedy immediately."

In no time, I'm holding a massive Polish sausage hot dog loaded with sauerkraut, mustard, and fried onions. The first bite makes me moan; the skin snaps, juices flooding my mouth with smoky perfection.

Garrett watches me with heat in his eyes that reminds me of that night in the cellar, his mouth on my skin, his hands...

"Good?"

"This is heaven!" I manage.

He laughs, taking a bite of his own, then grabs the bottle of water he ordered. A drop of mustard catches at the corner of his mouth, and I have to physically stop myself from reaching up to wipe it away or from tasting it off his lips.

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