Chapter 12
12
DOMINIC
T he snow falls in thick flakes around Ruby as she hurries across the street, cradling that pink pastry box like it's precious cargo. Her white coat makes her look like she's glowing against the gray day, that fur-trimmed hood framing her face just so. Those black boots of hers kick up little puffs of snow with each step.
Perfect. She's fucking perfect.
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel as I track her movement. Even from where I'm parked down the road, I can see her cheeks are flushed from the cold, see how she bites her lower lip in concentration as she navigates the slippery sidewalk. Every detail about Ruby is seared into my brain—the way she moves, the exact shade of her hair, how her scent lingers in the air even hours after she's gone.
And I haven't even met her yet.
The passenger door to my SUV flies open, letting in a blast of frigid air and snow. Garrett drops into the seat, shaking snowflakes from his hair and carrying takeout bags.
"Got your usual from Mike's. Though why we had to drive across town when there are perfectly decent sandwiches near the brewery?—"
"You know why." My eyes haven't left Ruby as she disappears into her bar.
"Yeah, I do." Garrett's voice holds equal parts amusement and concern. "Knox's first attempt didn't exactly go as planned yesterday when the storm hit, yet he's already obsessed with her."
"And you couldn't resist swooping in yesterday afternoon, could you?" I tear my gaze from the bar's entrance to give him a knowing look.
He grins, unrepentant. "Fuck, man, I can't stay away. She's an addiction."
The scent hits me then—her perfume, mixed with her natural Omega sweetness, still clinging to Garrett's jacket. My jaw clenches.
"I can smell her on you."
"I know." He sobers slightly. "Look, Knox has his date tonight?—"
"And I'll wait my turn." The words come out darker than I intended. "I've gotten good at waiting."
Garrett studies me for a long moment before nodding toward the brewery. "Come on. Let's get back before this gets cold."
The drive to Garrett's place takes us through the historic district, past snow-covered brownstones, until we reach the converted warehouse he's transformed into one of the city's most popular craft breweries. The main floor is all exposed brick and weathered wood, with gleaming copper tanks visible behind glass walls. The scent of hops and barley hangs rich in the air.
Cindy looks up from the host stand, her mousey blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail, her almond eyes absolutely stunning, as we stroll into the building. She's fantastic at playing normal, but I catch the way she scans the room before fully relaxing. Old habits.
"Your Saturday bookings are getting out of hand," she tells Garrett, falling into step beside us. "I had to add another seating area in the back room."
"You've got it handled." Garrett's trust in her is evident. "Everything else good?"
"Always is." She glances between us, professional but distant. "Need anything else?"
Garrett gives her a brief nod as she heads off to handle a delivery. I watch her go, concern etching lines around his mouth.
"Her brother called again," he says quietly as we climb the stairs to his office. "No sign of her mate, but..."
"You're doing the right thing, helping her." I flop down into one of his leather chairs. "If her fucker of a mate shows up?—"
"Then I'll do what I have to." Garrett's voice is steel. "Her brother will, too."
I lean forward, the weight of another problem pressing in. "Speaking of complications… what are we going to do about Marcus?"
Garrett's expression darkens as snow continues to fall outside his window, blanketing the world in white.
"Marcus is getting suspicious," Garrett says, taking his chair behind the massive, reclaimed wood desk. "He cornered me at The Crossings last night, asking why I've been hanging around Ruby's bar so much."
I let out a low laugh, but there's no humor in it. "What did you tell him?"
"That I like her bourbon selection." He runs a hand through his snow-damp hair. "But he knows about Knox's date tonight. Word travels fast in this fucking town."
The mention of Knox's date sends another surge of that dark possessiveness through me.
"Marcus needs to back the fuck off," I growl. "Ruby's bar isn't his territory, no matter what he thinks."
"You know it's more than that." Garrett pulls out a bottle of his latest experimental brew from his desk drawer, along with two glasses. "He's been trying to get his hooks into that property since before she took ownership of it so he can tear it down and build a towering apartment."
The beer Garrett pours is dark as coffee, with a head like cream. I take the offered glass but don't drink yet.
"You think he suspects?"
"That we know she's our Omega, and we're going to make her ours? Maybe. That we're planning something? Definitely."
Unease settles through me that he’s paid a bit too much attention to us.
A knock at the door interrupts us. Cindy stands in the doorway, tablet in hand, her posture slightly tense. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Anderson group called. They want to move their corporate tasting to next week."
"Whatever works best," Garrett says easily, but I notice how his eyes track her movements, assessing. "You okay? You seem..."
"Fine," she mutters, fiddling with her tablet. Her ocean-blue dress flows over her slender frame. At just twenty-two, she’s already endured more than most, thanks to her asshole parents marrying her off to a controlling Alpha at seventeen. "I thought I saw someone familiar outside earlier. But it was nothing."
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Garrett sets his glass down with careful precision.
"What kind of familiar?" I ask.
"Not him." Cindy shakes her head quickly. "Really, it was probably just someone who looked similar. I'm being paranoid."
"You see anything that makes you uneasy, you tell us immediately. No matter how small," Garrett states.
She nods, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Thanks. I'll let the Andersons know about next week."
After she leaves, Garrett lets out a long breath.
"Six months she's been here. Longest she's stayed anywhere since she ran. Hopefully, he won't track her down to Whispering Grove. For now, she's safe, and we'll fucking keep it that way. Anyway, speaking of situations… what did your contact find out about Ruby's lease?"
The change of subject pulls me back to our own complicated situation. I draw out my phone, scrolling through recent messages. "The building's mortgage is underwater. Marcus has been pressuring the bank to call in the loan, trying to force a sale. Ruby has to the end of the year to either buy it outright or find new investors."
"Fuck." Garrett drains his glass. "No wonder she's been looking stressed lately. I’ll lend her the money. Anything she needs."
"Goes without saying." I finally take a sip of the beer, letting the deep flavors roll over my tongue. "If she'll accept it. I get the impression she's not one to easily take help."
Garrett raises an eyebrow. "Then we have to make her see we're not the bad guys."
I set my glass down, remembering how she looked in the snow, all in white, like some kind of winter spirit. Pure. Untouched.
"I've never felt this way about anyone before I've met them, but the urgency to claim her grows inside me. A need to possess her, protect her, claim her... it's getting worse."
"Your turn's coming," Garrett reminds me. "We stick to the plan and not rush it to scare her."
Silence.
"I can hear you plotting murder from here," Garrett murmurs. "Want to share with the class? You're thinking about her again, aren't you?"
I give him a wolfish grin. "Just about problem-solving strategies."
"Right." I hear the sarcasm in his voice. "Not anything to do with waiting for your turn?"
I chuckle heavily. I already know I'm not nearly as in control as I pretend to be.