Page 70 of Pack’s Pledge

“Sure, bartender,” I said, easing myself off the stool, shooting one last grin her way before I ambled, hands full, over to the table where Conall and Beau sat side by side. Beau was leaning into Conall’s side unselfconsciously, and my heart fluttered. I’d never noticed, before Britt, how alone he’d felt.

“One Old Fashioned for you, my love,” I said, quiet, and he smiled up at me with athanks.“Britt’ll bring you your drink when she joins us, Conall.”

“Ten minutes,” Beau said, checking his watch. It was new—a gift from the rest of us. We’d surprised him with it for his birthday. “A retirement gift,” I’d said, and when he’d wrinkled his brow, saying, “I’m not retiring—” Britt had clarified, “from Ardor.” It had been Conall’s idea, when the letter arrived in the mail requesting we renew our request for membership. He’d gone to the jewelry store that day, looking for a watch as expensive as our yearly Ardor fee.

It was areally fucking nicewatch.

He deserved it. He deserved the world—of course he did. He was mine.

“I don’t know why she still insists on bartending,” Conall moped, “she knows we could get her a job with better hours—”

“—Or she could just mooch off Conall,” Beau said, looking pointedly at me.

“Excuse me, I’m inearly retirement,” I corrected, for atleastthe millionth time. “I had a job when we met, didn’t I? I made my money,” I said, leaning back. I couldn’t keep the smile from my lips as I continued, “and then I quit to be a full-time, stay-at-home—”

“Donotsay what I think you’re going to say,” warned Beau.

I said it anyway: “Daddy.”

“Well, he got the full-time, stay-at-home part right at least,” Conall said, and Beau laughed.

“Hey,” I protested, “I think I’mdaddymaterial, thank you very much—”

And that was when Britt chose to arrive at the table, carrying a two more beers and a small pour of whiskey, neat, in a lowball glass.

“Umm,” she said, blushing. “I, um…”

Beau smirked. “I told you not to.”

“Sit, Britt,” I said, sliding down the booth to make room for her. “Your alpha here was just curious why you were so dead set on bartending when you could be living the life of a kept omega.” I tipped my head at Beau. “No offense.”

“None taken. It’s a good gig. I’ve thought of trying it out myself.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, babe,” I said. He’d never quit his job. He loved being important. I turned to Britt again. “Now, obviously the answer is because you love your job. You’re damn good at it. And because you’re waiting for a handsome beta billionaire to come to your bar, flirt with you over the bar top, and rescue you from your life of depravity—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Conall said, “I won’t mention it again, I swear,” he said, pulling one of the beers toward him, taking a deep swallow. I watched his Adam’s apple bob. “I’m sorry, Britt. I didn’t mean to pressure you, or anything like that. I want you to be happy.”

“I know,” she said, smiling softly at him. “And I want you to be happy, too. That’s why I brought you the forty-year single malt.” She pointed at the lowball. “Now, if you’dratherdrink the lager in your hand, you’re welcome to, and I’ll behappyto drink the whiskey in your stead—”

“No, no, no,” Conall said, replacing the beer on the table, picking up the whiskey instead, swirling it around in the glass, inhaling deeply.

“Vanilla?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“I’d call it morecaramelthan vanilla.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Conall said, taking a sip. “You’re right.”

“Iamgood at my job,” she said, raising an eyebrow over her own beer. “And I do love it,” she said, and something in her tone made me stop to look at her. She glanced over at me, her eyes unusually soft. “But I know I won’t want to do it forever,” she said, “once I—we—once there are children, right?”

My eyes widened.

“Adrian, I…” she said, turning to me in the booth, taking my hand. “Idothink you are daddy material.”

My eyes narrowed.

“Are you making fun of me, baby?”

“Of course I am.” She grinned, but then her smile turned soft. “But…”

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