The small table is packed into a tight, wood-paneled corner, away from the lumberjack crowd who are drinking from massive beer steins and have just turned the jukebox up to full volume. The bar is filling fast now. Apparently, Forestville locals start partying early.
“Here.” Ezra takes me by surprise by pulling out the chair for me to sit down. Chivalrous, yet he doesn’t want an omega. An interesting contradiction.
The smell of bourbon, aged leather from the seats, and the zing of freshly cut limes fill the air.
“Thanks,” I murmur, taking a seat.
We both reach for the fries at the same time. The moment our hands touch, my palms tingle, and a rush of warmth ripples up my arm. The back of his hand is silky smooth, but as he jerks back, I feel the tips of his fingers, which are rough, making me wonder what he does for work and how those long fingers would feel when… Nope, I stop my mind from wandering, hoping that he didn’t notice my sharp inhale. That should be my signal that it’s time for me to leave, yet I find myself glued to my chair.
After the day I’ve had, would pretending to be someone else, forgetting about the weight of carrying the Sinclair dynasty on my shoulders and having a little fun, be such a bad thing? I imagine what my friends would say. Sabs would cheer me on and suggest some kind of pleasure-enhancing lube to try. Faye would remind me to be careful around a stranger, and Delilah would tell me to follow my heart. I don’t know how to follow my heart, so I follow the facts.
It’s been a while since an alpha has properly met my needs. Apart from a few one-night stands to relieve the pressurethat comes from taking suppressants and hiring a heat buddy last year, I haven’t been thoroughly satisfied or even remotely attracted to a guy in a long time.
“So…” Ezra begins, leaning in to be heard over the blaring country music. When our knees brush under the table, neither of us move, leaving us in a strange under-the-table standoff. “How long have you lived in Forestville?”
I sniff the air. Has his scent intensified somehow? It completely surrounds me.
“A few years.” I pick at the curly fries, but I’m too distracted by his smell to eat. “You can finish them.” I push the bowl in his direction. “What brings you to town?”
“A job,” he groans. “I start in a few days, but I don’t want to talk about that. I want to enjoy the next few days before I start. What do you do for work?”
How can I focus on a conversation when my entire body can only concentrate on our legs pressed together? “I write for the local paper.” It’s not exactly a lie; I’m just omitting that it’s a college paper. “But I’d rather not talk about it.”
“I was right, then.” His plump lips curve up. “A bad day at work is what has you drowning your sorrows alone and ripping up paper like it’s an enemy’s head?”
I cringe. “Don’t remind me.”
A hot guy bearing witness to my mini mental breakdown is the cherry on the top of an ice cream sundae of a shitty day.
“No judgment here.” He puts his hand to his heart. “Trust me, I’ve been there. Do you want to talk about it? I’ve been told that I’m a great listener.”
“No.” I tear a curly fry in two. I barely know this man. I’m not about to pour my heart out to him. “I’m good.”
“A woman of mystery.” He scratches his lightly stubbled chin. “So what’s the latest news in Forestville? Working for the paper, I’m sure you know everything that’s going on.”
Talking is the last thing on my mind as his knee presses into mine, making it hard to stop myself from climbing across the table and mounting him in front of everyone. Maybe the last cocktail wasn’t my best idea.
My sensible side knows I should spend the evening curled up with Larry—my adorable, chunky ginger cat—while plotting how I’m going to make my fake courtship with the Blandon Pack look convincing.
“It’s a quiet town, really.” I improvise on the fly. “Not a lot goes on here, but I have been working on a story about a famous SVU health botany professor who was recently dismissed.”
That’s something worthy of the town’s news, right?
He sips his drink thoughtfully. “Is that so?”
“My sources say that he was dismissed for omega discrimination.” My grip tightens on my glass. “SVU is supposed to be one of the safest colleges in the country for omegas. An internal investigation is already underway, which I hope means that they’re reviewing their hiring processes. Piece of shit professors like him can set omega rights back years. All it takes is one person to think it’s okay, and then we’re transported back to the dark ages, being traded by alphas like pieces of meat.” I shake my head, catching myself before I launch into a longer rant. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” His gaze softens. “And you’re right, of course. Students need a safe environment to learn.”
“Hopefully, Dean Rivers has learned a lesson from this.” I drag a finger around the rim of my glass. “And he better have thoroughly checked the new hire he brought in.”
The bartender approaching with a drink cuts our conversation short.
“This is for you.” She places an espresso martini in front of me.
I frown, looking at Ezra, who appears to be equally perplexed. “But I didn’t order anything.”
“It was a gift.” She nudges her head toward an alpha drinking alone at the bar. He raises his beer in my direction with a smile. He’s not bad looking, but the way he stares at me makes my skin crawl.
