Page 6 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

"Second-rate brewers playing at success." Marcus adjusts his already-perfect collar. "Though I suppose beggars can't be choosers. Twenty days, Ruby. Tick tock."

He leaves, but his presence lingers like a bruise. My legs want to buckle. My hands won't stop shaking. At the booth next to me, I catch Sophie and her Alpha watching with naked pity in their gazes, and something in me crumples. I hate this—hate being the spectacle, the joke, the Omega who dared to think she could stand on her own.

"Ruby?" Garrett's voice is gentle. Too gentle. "Are you?—"

"I'm fine." The words come out brittle. "You should go. Marcus has ways of making problems for people who help me."

"Good thing I like problems." There's steel under his easy smile now, rage carefully banked. "Want to trade samples later? I've got a bourbon barrel-aged porter that needs an honest opinion."

Part of me wants to say yes. A larger part remembers the last Alpha who offered totrade samples—remembers waking up three days later in the hospital, the doctors saying I was lucky they caught the bonding hormones in time.

"I don't think that's a good idea." I focus on hanging lights, pretending my hands aren't trembling. "But thanks."

I feel his eyes on me throughout the morning, between pouring samples and explaining Eve's recipes to customers. He's not obvious about it, but I'm too used to being watched to miss the weight of his gaze. It should make me nervous. Instead, it feels like standing in a patch of sunlight—warm and dangerous in its comfort.

The health inspector arrives just before noon. I see Marcus smirking behind him, and my stomach drops. Not today, Satan. Please, not today. I need this festival revenue to make next month's loan payment.

They move across the busy street of people to Garrett's booth.

I freeze on the spot.

I don't hear their conversation, but my blood runs cold. This is my fault. Marcus is targeting him because he talked to me, because he dared to be kind to the wrong Omega. Words bubble up in my throat—defiance, anger, retribution—but fear closes my windpipe. One wrong move and Marcus could accelerate the loan deadline. Could make sure I never work in this industry again.

I watch helplessly as the inspector writes citations. Nearby, Sophie's pity has turned to resignation. She knows how this goes. We all do.

The festival continues, but something in me feels cracked. I pour samples on autopilot, smile mechanically, and pretend I don't notice how conversations stop when I walk by. Pretend I don't see Garrett watching me with something like understanding in those sea-glass eyes.

Twenty days until I lose everything. Twenty days until Marcus wins.

I should have known better than to hope for anything different. Though I think about Hannah's and Lily's offering of three dates and if there's a possibility there. I also contemplate the notion of maybe marrying an Alpha to ensure Marcus doesn't get the bar… but each time I do, my stomach knots as flashes of my father beating my mother flood my thoughts. And how she never stood up to him, never left him. Instead, she kicked me out of the house, saying it was for my own good.

I breathe heavily and push the past and the drowning thoughts aside.

As the afternoon light fades, I discover a coffee stout sample on my counter. A note underneath reads,Some disasters are worth untangling.

I pour it down the drain. I have to.

Hope is a luxury I can't afford right now.

3

GARRETT

Hours after the festival wound down and the sun descended, Ruby's scent lingers in my nose like honey and cardamom. The delicate scent that marks her as an unmated Omega should repel me. I've spent years avoiding unmated Omegas, keeping my distance and staying professional because I thought I never wanted to settle down. In truth, I have never been drawn to one so powerfully as I am to Ruby.

She's different. Everything about her is different.

From inside the bar, the winter festival's lights flicker outside through the windows as we clean up, casting dancing shadows across the worn wooden floor. Christmas lights strung across Main Street pulse gentle colors through the frosted glass, making Ruby's skin glow as she moves between tables. She keeps insisting she's fine handling the clean-up and carrying her merchandise from the booth outside into her bar alone.

I can't walk away. I've been watching her all day, keeping an eye on her, close to murdering that fucking ass harassing her. Then, thinking that by bringing an inspector to my booth, I'd be scared off. He has no idea who he's dealing with.

I contacted my two closest friends, Knox and Dominic, to update them on the incident with Marcus and the steps we need to take to handle him. They'll be meeting Ruby in the next week or two as potential mates. Ideally, we want an Omega to share, but in my mind, she's already mine. Whether she fits with them or not won't change how I feel—or my claim on her.

My priority is Ruby and her safety. Don't ask me what the fuck's gotten into my head so fast, but seeing she's the first Omega to ever affect me this way, I'm inclined to follow my instincts. Even if it means just ensuring she's safe.

So now, I'm helping her clean up in the closed bar.

She's changed from her festive red dress into black jeans and an oversized sweater that falls off one shoulder, revealing freckles I want to trace with my fingertips. Her boots make soft sounds against the floor as she works. She belongs here, among the gleaming bottles and brass fixtures, as much a part of the bar's soul as the ancient hardwood beneath our feet.

---