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Wait, what?
Frowning, I turn to follow him with my gaze and it takes a long moment for the realization to sink in. It’s not me he was walking toward. Smiling at.
It’s someone else.
Dammit. It’s both a relief and an aggravation. Who is he heading toward? I follow him with my eyes, tuning out Gigi who is saying something about more shots and her favorite cocktail.
It’s another alpha, I realize, standing at the back, hands in his pockets. An alpha just as built, dressed in a suit that makes him look even more powerful and dangerous.
Dangerous in a good way.
Is there a good way?
In a sexy way. The kind that will push you against a wall or into a mattress and ravish you. Make you come so hard you see stars. Make you scream.
I jerk a little when the suit-alpha grabs my alpha—what? Jesus, Sawyer—and drags him in for a brief but hard kiss.
Good lord. That was so fucking hot, I need a cold shower. Damn!
And since when do I get turned on by perving on strangers—alphas, at that, all muscles and hairy legs and attitude—who are kissing?
Wait, am I a perv?
As I watch, another handsome man joins them, coming out from behind the bar, and I think I recognize him as one of the bartenders. What is he…?
He slides an arm around the annoying alpha and the other around the power-suit alpha, and… goddammit, they are a pack.
I’m looking at a pack.
Not sure why disappointment swamps me. After all, if the first alpha was annoying as all hell, the other two probably are, too. Like calls to like, right? They probably don’t even know what a book is. Wouldn’t know a good story if it bit them in the ass. Wouldn’t care about escaping into other worlds.
Wouldn’t even glance at someone like me.
So there you go. Phew. How lucky am I that I found out they are a pack before I…
Before you, what, Sawyer? The man pissed you off. He’s an entitled jerk with whom you had absolutely no fucking connection. Don’t let a handsome face fool you. Or keep you staring.
Look away now, before they catch you looking.
“Anyone up for another round of shots?” Ronin says.
I raise a hand. “Make mine a double.”
“They are shots.”
“Then give me two.” I grab Gigi and Casey, wrap my arms around them—and if that reminds me of how the bartender wrapped his arms around the two alphas, who cares? “Let’s dance!”
6
ARCHER
We’re having trouble with our temp employees. Especially the dancers tend to be flaky. Luna Desantos has missed a shift too many, and I don’t know if I can keep her on the payroll anymore.
Yet the big boss and bar owner wants me to keep hiring part-time, temporary employees because it’s cheaper for him.
I don’t want to tell Luna never to come back. She’s been having a rough time, from what I have gathered, and I’ve slipped her a card of the Omega Sunshine Shelter, but she hasn’t mentioned it, and I’ve never noticed her at the shelter.
It’s possible she doesn’t need help. Or doesn’t want any from me. It’s possible she isn’t interested in working here anymore. It happens.
