Page 7 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

I grin, knowing that feeling. It's how I am in my bar.

"You really don't have to help," Ruby says for the third time, dropping another crate by the recycling bin. Her reddish-blonde hair has mostly escaped its messy bun, forming a wild halo around her face. There's a smudge of dirt on her cheek that my fingers itch to brush away. "I'm sure you have better things to do than clean up someone else's mess."

"Your cousin was out of line," I say abruptly, making her pause. "Bringing the health inspector to the festival, then to visit me? That wasn't about me. That was about getting to you." My hands clench around the rag I'm holding, remembering Marcus's smug smile. "He's a fucking coward, using bureaucracy to fight his battles."

Ruby's laugh is sharp and bitter. "Welcome to the Marcus Winters' playbook. He's been trying to get this place condemned since Aunt Eve died twelve months ago." She starts aggressively sorting bottles, the glass clinking like angry wind chimes. "Says a bar's no place for an Omega, but it was okay for my aunt, who was a Beta. Says I'm disgracing the family name." A bottle slips from her fingers, but I'm right at her side and catch it before it can shatter. The movement brings us close enough that I can see the tiny scar near her left eyebrow and smell the lingering festival spices in her hair.

"Careful," I murmur, setting the bottle safely aside. My hand brushes her arm, and electricity crackles between us. "These are getting heavy."

"I've been doing this alone for two years," she says, but there's less bite in her tone now. More exhaustion. "Ever since my aunt Eve..." She trails off, rubbing her temples. "Sometimes, I think Marcus is right. Not about Omegas running bars—that's bullshit—but about me not being strong enough to keep this place going."

My grip tightens on the rag until my knuckles go white. The thought of Marcus's smug face makes violence curl in my gut. I've seen his type before—wealthy Alphas who think their status gives them the right to control others.

"I should pay him a visit," I say quietly, watching her reaction. "Explain the concept of professional courtesy." Images flash through my mind—Marcus's shocked face as I corner him in his precious country club, my hands around his throat, teaching him what happens when you threaten someone else...

Ruby whirls to face me, eyes flashing. "Don't. Please. He's not worth risking your business over."

"He's already risking my business." I move closer, drawn by the way her pulse jumps at her throat. A strand of hair has fallen across her face, and before I can stop myself, I brush it back. Her skin is warm beneath my fingers. "More importantly, he's threatening yours."

"Why do you care?" She backs away, but there's nowhere to go—the bar's behind her, bottles gleaming. "You barely know me."

The question hits harder than it should. Why do I care? Why does watching her fight that bastard make my chest ache? Why do I want to destroy anyone who puts that haunted look in her amber eyes?

"I travel a lot," I say instead of answering directly. I lean against the bar beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her body but not quite touching. "Built my brewery's reputation across three continents. Told myself relationships were too complicated. Saw too many Alpha friends lose everything in messy bondmarks and broken claims. So, I accepted that it wasn't for me, but I watched my two younger sisters and how they struggled with fitting in, with how many treated them for being Omegas. I helped them as much as I could… well, in truth, it's as much as they allowed me." I chuckle, remembering their stubbornness, half reminding me of Ruby.

She watches me from the corner of her eye, fingers playing with the label on an empty bottle as she stands by the bar. "Smart policy."

"That's what I thought." I stare into those fiery eyes, trapping her between my arms as I grip the bar on either side of her. Not touching, but close enough to share breath. Every inch of me is attentive to how close she is, how quickly her chest rises and falls. "Then you almost fall off a chair this morning, and suddenly, I can't think about anything else. Can't stop wondering what you look like when you smile. What makes you laugh. Whether you sing along to the radio when you're alone in the bar."

Color floods her cheeks. "Don't say that stuff. That's the pheromones talking. It happens sometimes–"

"It's more than that." I cut her off, needing her to understand. "I've met plenty of compatible Omegas. None of them made me want to commit assault over a health inspection. None of them made my skin feel too tight just by existing in the same space."

That startles a laugh out of her—a real one this time, soft and surprised. Fuck me, but my balls are tight, pulling up at the beautiful sound. What is she doing to me?

"My knight in shining brewery gear." She eyes my Henley top, with my logo embroidered on my sleeve, my deep cargo pants, and down to my waterproof boots.

"I'm serious, Ruby." I catch her wrist when she tries to move past me, my thumb finding her racing pulse. Her skin is silk and fire against mine, and I have to fight the urge to pull her closer. "What Marcus did today? That's just the beginning. He's going to keep coming after you, keep trying to wear you down."

"I know." Her voice cracks on the words. "Trust me, I know. But I can handle it."

"You shouldn't have to." The words come out rougher than intended. My hand slides from her wrist to her waist, and she shivers. "Let me help."

"Why?" She looks up at me, defiance warring with something darker in her eyes. In this light, they're more gold than amber, flecked with shadows that make me want to chase away every bad memory she's carrying. "Because I'm some damsel in distress? Some Omega who needs an Alpha's protection?"

"Because you're extraordinary." The truth of it burns in my chest. My other hand rises to cup her face, thumb brushing across that smudge of dirt I've been wanting to erase all night. "Because watching you work today, seeing how your customers light up when you talk to them, hearing you explain the brewing process to that kid who wanted to start a home brewery... you're not just surviving, Ruby. You're thriving.

"Marcus wants to take that away because he can't stand an Omega being more successful than him. And because I know how damn hard it is to start against all odds. I started with fucking nothing, borrowed money, and was in debt to my eyeballs, but I worked damn hard to get my business off the ground. So, to see that shithead try to squish your dream, it hits something personal in me."

Her breath catches. We're too close now, the heat of her body calling to mine. She smells like honey and vanilla and determination, like everything I never knew I was missing. My head fogs, thoughts floating away.

"I can't..." She swallows hard. "The bar, Marcus, everything... I can't afford distractions right now."

"Is that what I am? A distraction?" I have no idea how I'm already feeling so obsessed with her. Yet I know the answer… Sure, it's pheromones, but it's so fucking much more, and I have no intention of walking away.

"You're a forest fire." Her laugh is shaky. "And I'm already burning."

I can't stop my free hand from sliding into her hair, cradling the back of her head, tilting her head back. Her eyes flutter closed at the touch, and something primal in me roars to life.

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