She hip checks me. “Deal.”
“If it becomes too much, you leave.”
Her eyes soften. “I know,” she says. “I will. You know I can take care of myself though, right? I always have.”
“I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust. Every man that walks in here tonight will want to taste you.”
And I’m going to lose my job by killing them.
Blair ismine.
“And there’s only one person in this room that gets to taste me,” she says quietly, making my mouth water. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to recount this register.Someonedidn’t close it properly last night.”
This teasing has to stop before I do something insane like put her over my knee in front of our coworkers.
“You’re a fucking brat,” I growl, staring daggers at her neck, hating that I can’t sink my teeth into her mating gland.
She shrugs. “Like I said. I have to count this register. If you don’t mind, Trav, you’re distracting me.”
I’m so hard from her attitude that I need to step away to adjust myself in the bathroom. I’m close to knotting through my fucking boxers atwork.
My scent match is a cocktease.
She’s impossible and stubborn as hell.
She’s perfect.
With a snarl, I fish my phone out of my pocket and scroll to the photo album. “Here. Look at the damn cat pictures I took for you,” I snap, handing her the device. “I’ll be back.”
She bursts out laughing as I head to the bathroom, furious and turned on.
No one diesduring our shift, but a few patrons get close.
Yet Blair, like always, knows how to handle things. She sidesteps a customer that looks like he might get handsy, and when another one stops to talk to her when she comes from behind the bar for her break, she keeps a bright smile on her face, but her eyes are slightly guarded.
I know that look all too well.
Her eyes, breathtaking with their swirls of hazel, are enough to make a grown Alpha fall to his knees.
A Beta man inquires about her rescue. When he opens his phone to show Blair pictures of his cats, I let out a snarl loud enough that both of them hear. The man quietly slinks away, his eyes fearful.
By the end of the night, her scent overpowers the bar.
It’s sweet, delicious, and I can barely concentrate on making drinks or cleaning up when all I want to do is drag her away from this place.
But when the lights turn on and it’s last call, Rylee goes up to the bar to chat with Blair like she doesn’t notice how much Blair is perfuming.
Rylee keeps side-eyeing me as I wipe the counters, though. “Keep clenching your jaw that hard and you’re going to crack a few teeth, Travis,” she chuckles.
“You can go home, Rylee,” Blair says gently. “Travis and I’ve got this.”
“Really? You want to prep lemons and wash mint leaves by yourself? I’ve got time tonight.”
“Go home, Rylee,” I say quietly, my voice low and deadly.
For once, Rylee listens. She has the decency to look uneasy, and she gives an awkward smile and waves goodbye to us before scurrying to the backroom.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Blair chastises, but her wicked grin gives her away.
