Page 12 of Knot That Serious

Such a gentleman.

Jack wanted to suck his dick about it.

Clearing his throat, Jack placed his helmet in the spare seat and took his own, watching Beckett round the table.

“It’s cheaper on gas, and it cuts down on traffic—you know, if you don’t get caught.”

“And have you ever been caught?” Beckett asked, leaning across the table on his elbows, interest snagged.

Jack slipped his jacket off, let it fall across the back of his chair. He did not miss how Beckett’s eyes dropped to his chest, the strip of skin bared down to his sternum.

“Not by anyone I didn’t want to be.”

A lie. Jack had been caught once, pulled over and given a ticket, but that wasn’t a sexy stor—

“I don’t believe you one bit,” Beckett said, leaning away and grabbing the drink menu, a smile twitching his full lips.

Jack’s mouth dropped open, the corner of his mouth threatening to curl up, and gazed at the alpha across the table.

Beckett’s gaze slid to him, slipping down to stare at his parted lips before he fixed his attention to the menu. “What do you like to drink?”

“Something strong,” he murmured, refusing to give up the game yet. He waited until Beckett glanced up from the menu. “Wanna feel it in my throat.”

Alphas were deceptively easy, in Jack’s experience. Usually, a line like that would have the other guy throwing down his menu, giving up on dinner, and skipping straight to the hooking up.

But while Beckett’s eyes definitely darkened at the suggestive words, he only smirked before placing the menu down.

Which was the perfect moment for the waiter to arrive to give them the welcome spiel and take their drink orders.

“We’ll have two Italian cream sodas, please,” Beckett requested.

“Flavor?”

“Raspberry,” Beckett answered smoothly.

“And you?”

It took Jack a second too long to realize the waiter was waiting for his answer; he’d been too busy staring at Beckett.

Beckett, who tapped Jack’s ankle with the toe of his shoe, jolting him back into the moment.

“Uh, same for me,” Jack answered, tugging his attention to the waiter. He didn’t even remember what flavor Beckett had requested.

“Got it. I’ll be back with the bread and your drinks,” he informed them before kindly leaving.

Beckett was not falling for Jack’s usual moves.

So Jack had to accept the fact that he was excited about the silly drinks, and tried to work through the tangle of emotions. He should probably be hurt, or at least offended that he was clearly striking out here. Instead he was… relieved that Beckett seemed to see right through him.

Jack fucking loved the Italian cream sodas. On the rare occasion he and Eli made it out here, that was their go-to.

“Are you back in the good graces of your coworker?” Beckett asked.

Returning to the moment, Jack finally leaned back in his chair, relaxing at the safe, comfortable topic. Had Beckett done that on purpose?

“Yeah, she forgave me. I made dinner and cleaned the apartment. I haven’t been late again.”

Beckett’s lip twitched. “Glad to hear it.”

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