Chapter 4 #2
Right behind him is Julian Park, which is unexpected.
Julian’s more of a wine-at-home type, but he’s got a leather folder under his arm, which means he’s doing someone’s books.
His dark hair is neatly styled as always, wire-frame glasses tucked in his shirt pocket, and he moves with that quiet precision that makes you forget he’s there until he says something devastatingly accurate.
“Gentlemen.” I grab two glasses. “Rough day?”
“Rough week.” Ben drops onto a stool—the same one Tessa was sitting in a few hours ago—and immediately his posture goes weird. He shifts, sniffs, shifts again. “What the hell?”
“Problem?”
“This seat smells like—” He stops. Sniffs again. His expression does something complicated. “Never mind.”
I keep my face neutral and pour his whiskey. “Julian? The usual?”
“Beer, thanks.” Julian settles onto the next stool, already pulling out paperwork. “And whatever receipts you’ve been hoarding. I want to get home before Lila sends Callum to collect me.”
“The receipts are in the back. Give me ten minutes.” I slide their drinks across the bar. “How’s Lila?”
“Nesting.” Julian’s whole face goes soft. “She’s got Dean and Callum installing new cabinets this week. Apparently the old ones weren’t right for the baby’s bottles.” He shakes his head, but there’s so much warmth in it. “She’s due in three months and already reorganizing every room in the house.”
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He’s smiling now, properly smiling, and I remember why I like Julian. Under all that quiet precision, the man’s completely gone for his pack.
Ben takes a long pull of his whiskey and doesn’t say anything. He keeps shifting on the stool, though. Leaning in, then pulling back. Nostrils flaring like he can’t stop himself.
“You okay there?” I ask. “You look like you’re having a medical event.”
“I’m fine.” He sniffs again, frowns. “This is fine.”
“Very convincing.”
“Shut up.”
I give him another minute. He lasts about forty seconds.
“Okay, I’m losing my mind.” Ben sets his glass down. “I swear I smell Tessa everywhere. Like she’s taken up permanent residence in my brain and refuses to pay rent.”
Julian looks up from his paperwork, one eyebrow raised.
“I smell her in my shop,” Ben continues, ticking off on his fingers. “In my house. When I wake up in the morning. And now apparently in this bar, which means either she’s been here recently or I need professional help.”
“Option A.” I top off his whiskey. “She was sitting in that exact seat about five hours ago.”
Ben goes rigid. “She was what?”
“Tessa. She came in this afternoon to work. Sat right there.” I tap the bar where his glass is resting. “Ate some fries. Blushed a lot. You know, her usual.”
“She was sitting—” He looks down at the stool like it’s betrayed him. “In this exact seat.”
“Which you are now sitting in.”
“Which I am now sitting in.”
“So you’re basically absorbing her scent through osmosis.”
Ben stares at me. Then at the stool. Then back at me. “I’ve been going insane because of a barstool.”
“And because she’s been driving your truck for two days.” I lean against the back bar. “Which means she’s had your scent all over her, and you’ve had her scent all over your truck, and now you’re sitting in her chair, so really you’re both just marinating in each other at this point.”
“Marinating.” Ben’s voice is flat. “We’re marinating.”
“Like a nice steak.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.” I grin. “But seriously, you two have basically been scent-marking each other without realizing it. It’s adorable. Very middle school. Next you’ll be passing notes.”
Julian coughs into his beer. “Do I want to know why Tessa has Ben’s truck?”
“Her car broke down,” Ben says. “I’m fixing it. I lent her the truck because I’m a good person who provides excellent customer service.”
“He panicked and threw his keys at her to avoid talking about the bachelor auction,” I correct.
“Bea has a big mouth.” Ben glares at me. “And that is a gross oversimplification.”
“Is it?”
“I had a lot going on. Mrs. Henderson’s Buick was in critical condition.” He takes a drink. “Besides, shouldn’t you be polishing glasses or something? Isn’t that what bartenders do when they’re not gossiping like old ladies?”
“I’m an excellent multitasker.”
Julian sets down his beer. “You blasted your radio at her, Ben. River told me.”
“River needs to mind his own business. You all do.”
“Ben.” I lean forward. “You pretended you couldn’t hear her to avoid a yes or no question from a woman you’re clearly obsessed with. That’s not customer service. That’s a cry for help.”
“I’m not obsessed.”
“You just said she’s living rent-free in your brain.”
“That was a figure of speech.”
“Was it?”
Ben opens his mouth, closes it, and takes a long drink of whiskey instead. Julian and I exchange looks.
“Bea made a PowerPoint,” Ben finally admits. “About how I’m an idiot.”
“Your sister made a PowerPoint?”
“Fourteen slides. She presented it over dinner. With a laser pointer.”
I nearly choke on my water. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Slide seven was just a picture of Tessa’s clipboard with the caption ‘This is not your enemy.’“ Ben shakes his head. “Slide twelve had a flow chart.”
“A flow chart?”
“Mapping out all the times I’ve avoided Tessa in the past six months. It was color-coded.”
Julian loses it completely, beer going down the wrong pipe. I have to hand him a napkin while Ben watches with wounded dignity.
“She’s very thorough,” Ben says defensively. “She got it from our dads.”
“I need a copy of this presentation,” I manage. “Immediately.”
“Over my dead body.”
“I’ll pay.”
“Not enough money in the world.” But his mouth is twitching now, fighting a smile.
Julian gathers his paperwork and stands. “Much as I’m enjoying this—and I really am enjoying this—I need to get home. Lila made me promise I’d be back by nine, and if I’m late, Dean will make that face.”
“The disappointed golden retriever face?” Ben asks.
“That’s the one.” Julian claps him on the shoulder. “Good luck with the Tessa situation.”
“There is no Tessa situation.”
“Sure there isn’t.” Julian turns to me. “I’ll be back Saturday for those receipts. Have them organized.”
“Yes sir.”
The door closes behind him, letting in a gust of cold January air. Ben stares at his empty glass.
“She really sat in this seat.”
“For about two hours.” I refill his whiskey without being asked. “Working on the fundraiser. Looking stressed. Eating fries she didn’t order because I brought them anyway.”
“You brought her fries.”
“She forgot to eat. Someone had to feed her.” I shrug. “She’s been running herself into the ground over this Valentine’s thing. I’m helping her wrangle four guys for the auction, but she’s still got one spot to fill.”
Ben’s hand tightens on his glass. “She mention who?”
“She’s hoping you’ll stop hiding long enough to say yes.” I watch his reaction. “Come on, man. It’s for the community center roof. One evening of your time. Tessa would owe you a favor.”
“I’m not doing the auction.”
“Why not? You’re not seeing anyone. You clean up decent when you try. Mrs. Henderson would probably bid on you just for the free oil change.”
“Still no.”
“Ben—”
“I said no.” There’s an edge to his voice now. “Drop it.”
Interesting. I try a different angle.
“Fine. But you should know—I’m planning to make her bid on me.” I keep my voice casual. “Figure if I win, I can take her somewhere nice. Get her to actually relax for once.”
Ben goes very still. “You’re into her.”
“Have been for a while.” I meet his eyes. “She’s smart, she’s driven, she’s beautiful. What’s not to like?”
His jaw tightens.
“She doesn’t date,” he says flatly. “She’s married to her job.”
“Maybe she just hasn’t met the right person yet.”
“Or maybe she knows what she wants and it’s not—” He stops himself. Takes a long drink of whiskey. “Whatever. Good luck with that.”
“Thanks.” I study him. “You sure you’re not interested? Because if you are—”
“I’m not.” He says it too fast. “She’s a client. That’s it.”
“A client whose scent you can’t stop smelling. Who you gave your truck to. Who you’ve apparently been avoiding for six months according to your sister’s color-coded flow chart.”
“Bea exaggerates.”
“Does she?”
Ben finishes his whiskey and stands, pulling out his wallet. “What do I owe you?”
“On the house. Consider it compensation for the entertainment.”
“Watching me complain about barstools is entertainment?”
“Best show in town.” I grin. “Now go home. Get some sleep. And Ben? If you change your mind about the auction, let Tessa know. She could use the help.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“If you say so.”
He flips me off, but there’s no heat in it. I watch him head for the door, bracing himself against the cold before pushing out into the night.
Ben Wilson is a terrible liar. Always has been.
He’s into her. I’d bet my bar on it. The way he reacted when I mentioned taking her out, the way he couldn’t stop shifting in that seat, the way he shut down the second I pushed too hard. That’s not a man who sees her as just a client.
But he’s not ready to admit it. Not to me, maybe not even to himself.
Which means I’ve got competition I can’t even call out properly.
I start wiping down the bar, thinking.
Tessa Lang has at least two alphas interested in her, whether she knows it or not. Maybe three, if you count Elijah—and I do count Elijah. I’ve seen the way he watches her when she’s not paying attention. Quiet doesn’t mean uninterested.
The question is what she’s going to do about it.
The answer, knowing Tessa, is probably nothing. She’ll ignore it, suppress it, schedule it for some future date that never comes.
But that’s the thing about omegas. They can only suppress so much for so long.
And when her walls finally come down?
I plan to be there.
Ben can keep pretending he doesn’t care. Elijah can keep watching from the shadows. I’ll keep bringing fries and showing up and making my interest impossible to ignore.
We’ll see who she reaches for first.