Page 31 of Alpha Rising (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

“Did I see you come in with Reese?” Abby craned her neck, presumably looking for him.

“Uh…yeah. He’s here. Did you want to talk to him?”

Her eyes sliced back to me and widened. “Oh,hellsno. He scares the shit out of me.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Lauren…” Abby tapped one of the other housekeepers on the shoulder.

Lauren turned away from the group she was talking to, and her long silky black hair swung with the movement. “What’s up?”

“What are your thoughts on Reese Fitzpatrick?”

Lauren’s dark eyes widened just as Abby’s had done. “Girl, I change direction if he’s heading my way.”

“Why?” I asked. That seemed a little extreme.

“Because he’s scary as shit,” Lauren said.

“See?” Abby said.

I shrugged, not knowing what to say. It was true Reese had often struck me as grumpy, and he definitely made me nervous. But scary?

I glanced across the room and caught sight of him. His shoulders were broad and rounded with muscle. His torso angled down to slim hips that I knew from experience were beyond powerful and…

Reese suddenly turned, and his eyes locked with mine. For all I knew, he could hear every word of this conversation. Or worse, he scented my growing arousal.

Okay, maybe he was alittlescary.

“Alert the fire department.” Abby drew in closer. “The way he’s looking at you…”

“I guess hecanbe intense,” I agreed.

“Intense?” she and Lauren asked simultaneously, then they laughed.

“Sarah!” Angel called, giving me another summoning wave from behind the bar.

Abby and Lauren glanced in his direction, then back to me.

“Seriously,” Abby said. “How did you get so close to these guys so fast? This is mine and Lauren’s third summer and I doubt if Angel Fitzpatrick has any clue about our names.”

Lauren made a dramatic sigh. “He’s so fucking hot. He’s like a surfer-cowboy love child.”

“Seriously,” Abby agreed.

“How about we go see what he wants?” I suggested, happy to be off the topic of Reese.

“Sign me up,” Lauren said, checking her breasts to confirm her cleavage was at maximum impact.

When we arrived at the bar, Angel gave me a scathing look and yelled over the music. “You couldn’t just have me pouring tap beers, now could you? Had to make it tricky.”

“It’s anappreciationparty,” I said. “The drinks had to be fancy.”

Abby picked up one of the laminated cocktail menus I’d created. There was a whiskey drink called an “Evergreen,” a wildberry mojito I dubbed “The Trail Blazer,” and a strawberry vodka spritzer now known as “Lake Days.”

Angel handed me a Trail Blazer that he’d already prepared; based on my earlier samplings, he knew it was my favorite of the three.

“I’ll try an Evergreen,” Abby said.

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