“A rubber duckie nearly took out Club 21?” Riley asks, a male omega who moved here three years ago. Everyone here has their own reasons for being in our protective bubble.
I’m fiercely protective of people who live here, and I plan to talk to Jacob about keeping his dick to himself the next time he’s in. Fucking beta asshole.
“Oh yeah,” I say, getting him another drink. “Water was everywhere, I had to turn it off at the valve. It was such a mess. We clean up well, huh?”
Riley gives my tits an appreciative glance. That’s not what I meant, but the twenty dollar tip is worth it.
Soon, I hit the lights that make the chandelier lights flicker, a sign that it’s time to get the fuck out. The music tapers downslowly, and people come by to settle up their tabs and get going. I pay attention to each person to see who’s unable to drive, and ask for their keys to hand to a bouncer. They’ll make sure to get them to the taxis waiting outside.
It’s a good system, and before I know it, the club is empty outside of staff.
I help them to shut things down by cleaning the bar glasses, wiping down my bar surfaces, and then grabbing a broom to move trash to the center of the room for the cleaners. Lexi is already gone for the night, which isn’t unusual. It’s not her job to close the club, and while it’s not mine either, I jump in where I can.
“Go home, Silva.” Emmett groans at me.
“I’m headed out,” I promise, yawning. Reaching behind the bar for my purse and hooded zip up sweater, I wave in the direction of everyone else and say goodnight.
There’s a chorus of goodbyes as I pull on my sweater and pull my purse over my head. I use the back exit to head to my car, knowing that I’m going to drive straight to a pizza joint that’s open late. The town is really safe, but I always keep pepper spray in my back pocket, just in case. Old habits of always being ready for anything have stuck with me.
I’ve been so busy today, I haven’t had time to eat, and I weave slightly on my feet as I unlock my truck. Ugh. Nothing like low blood sugar to ruin my vibe.
“Are you sure you’re not drinking your own product?” a deep voice asks to my right.
“Why, Mr. Sheriff, are you asking me a question I’ll need to plead the fifth about?” I tease, turning to face Sheriff Syrus Lynch.
Syrus and I dance quite a bit verbally. He checks on me when I work late, which is often, while I make him insane with my usual brand of omega brattiness. It’s the only time I’m not “on”.I’m not protecting anyone when we verbally spar, and most of all, I’m not drowning in guilt either.
Syrus can more than take care of himself as the sheriff of our town, and I’m very aware of that. Leaning against the side of my vehicle, I watch him lazily as his blue gray eyes glare at me. Damn is he sexy as fuck.
His slicked back blonde hair makes me want to reach over and muss it up. Syrus has a penchant for being just as grumpy as I am, which just makes me want to push his buttons. His colorful tattoo sleeve stands out prominently as he wears a t-shirt that says sheriff on it with a pair of dark khakis.
He usually wears the full sheriff uniform, but will dress down when it’s later at night. I guess I’m the lucky girl that’s caught his attention.
“Syrus, I drink on very rare occasions,” I remind him. “I’ve been really busy today and haven’t eaten. What you’re seeing is low blood sugar, not drunkenness. Goodnight.”
On second thought, I’m too tired to deal with his bullshit tonight. I need pizza from The Cheese Knees immediately. Maybe I’ll take it to go so I won’t have to deal with drunk people flirting with me.
“Hold on there,” he complains, worry filling his gaze now. “What the fuck does that mean? It’s tomorrow already. How do you just forget to eat for over twenty-four hours?”
“Syrus, you are either accusing me of being a drunk or an irresponsible adult. Which is it?” I ask tiredly.
“Neither,” he mutters. Syrus is a beta that joined our town nine years ago. He doesn’t know our stories, just that we’re starting over as a safe place for others.
No alphas are allowed into our town unless they’re vouched for by someone. Syrus simply escorts them to the edge of town and suggests they keep moving. So while I can’t kick out anyone else, he can and does often.
“Cool, cool,” I say, yanking my door open. “You make me fucking crazy.”
Tossing my purse into the truck, I begin to climb in.
“Wait,” Syrus says, walking over until his body is pressed against my backside. His large hands move over my hips, and I swear I hear his breath hitch. “Silva, we do this thing where we argue, I let you win, and you stomp away. It’s been consistently like this for years. I need to change that.”
“I think it’s been working pretty well,” I snark, my hands covering his as I glance over my shoulder.
My hair is thrown back up in its requisite messy bun since I didn’t want it in the way earlier, so I can easily see Syrus. His eyes burn with a mix of passion and anger, and he smells faintly of rain. I happen to know that when he’s actually mad, his scent changes to be more ozone than anything else. It’s a subtle change, but it tells me he’s not actually pissed off at me.
“I don’t think it does,” he grumbles, lifting me down from the truck’s stair.
It’s a fairly high level for me to get into, but I prefer it when I’m driving. I’m a short queen, but I make up for it in my personality. Syrus turns my body, leaning his right arm over my head on the door frame as he gazes down at me.
