Poker Night #2
"He's definitely playing with fire." Mack lets out that low, rumbling laugh of his. "I've been telling him for weeks. The boy's gonna burn the library down with his ass still inside it," he says with the exaggerated Southern drawl he gets every time he says something ridiculous.
"Let's give Owen a little credit here," Adrian says. "It's a crush. He's not going to throw away his whole life over a few flirtatious conversations."
"Any man would throw away his whole life for the right pair of tits, Adrian." Mack stretches his arms behind his head. "Don't lie to yourself."
Adrian rolls his eyes so hard I'm worried they're going to stay back there.
Renata lifts her head. "He's flirting with a Van Houten. In the Van Houten Library. Named after her fucking family. While her daddy is on the news telling the world that men like you," she points right at me, "should be in jail. You need to get your beta back in line."
I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek, biting back the response that wants to come out. Renata is my big sister, and I respect her opinion, but she’s not my packmate. And she does not get to weigh in on what my mates do.
"Mack flirts with that omega at the coffee place by the worksite every single morning." Adrian’s blue-gray eyes stay focused on my face, gauging how annoyed I am right now. He hates it when people fight. "He brings her cinnamon rolls. He calls her sweetheart. It’s honestly not a big deal."
"That's different," Renata says, closing her sketchbook.
"How?" Adrian asks.
"Because nobody at the coffee place is going to ruin Mack's career or run him out of town."
"Look, nobody's actually gonna fuck the billionaire bookworm." Mack rests his elbows on the table, leaning toward Renata. "Owen's not built like that. The boy holds the door open for raccoons. He’s being nice."
Renata snorts.
"Now me? Different story." Mack grins like a fool. "I could absolutely bend that busty barista over the counter on a slow Tuesday afternoon." He looks up at Adrian and winks. "Pete's been watching me build up to it for six months."
Adrian struggles to suppress a smile, shaking his head.
I shoot Mack a look across the table, but the alpha just grins wider.
"What?" he says, pretending to be innocent. "I'm being honest."
"Stop it." Adrian smacks Mack's arm. "You are not having sex with her in the coffee shop."
"I never said in the coffee shop," he says. "She's got a stockroom."
Adrian’s eyes narrow, not amused.
Mack immediately laughs and then shifts in his chair, facing the alpha.
He hooks two fingers through one of Adrian's belt loops, tugging him close until Adrian is standing between his knees.
"I'm kidding, baby. You know I'm kidding.
" He squeezes Adrian’s hips. "That barista makes your cortado exactly the way you like it, and I would never, ever do anything to mess that up. Cross my heart."
Adrian tries to look annoyed and fails spectacularly. Mack tilts his head up, and Adrian leans down and kisses him softly, like their sister-in-law isn’t sitting four feet away.
"Okay." Renata stands up with the dramatic energy of a woman who has been pushed to her limit. "I'm out. I cannot stomach one more second of this."
"You love it," Mack says against Adrian's mouth.
"I do not love it. I tolerate it. There is a difference."
She grabs her bag off the back of her chair, then slings it over her shoulder.
"Before I leave this den of horny lunatics, let me just say that I hope you’re right about Owen and this girl.
" She looks right at me. "I love you guys, but I don’t have the space for all of you assholes when you get run out of town. "
"You don’t have to worry," I say. "Owen would never put us in danger. He likes smiling at a pretty girl."
"It’s your pack," Renata says with a shrug, "All I’m saying is that you four are the sluttiest pack I have ever met in my entire life and one of these days it's going to catch up with you."
"We are not slutty."
"Brother." She picks up her almost empty beer bottle. "You are," she says firmly. "You are a deeply slutty pack."
Mack quickly grabs his own drink and clinks it against hers. "Fuck yeah we are."
Renata laughs, that loud sudden bark of hers that always sounds like it caught her by surprise. Then she tips the bottle back to drain the last sip. She sets the bottle down on the table with a small, satisfied tap.
"All right. I'm out." She hooks her thumb under the strap of her bag. "I've got a 7:00 a.m. consult with some guy who wants his ex-wife's name covered up with a tiger, and then I'm booked straight through till nine at night. No lunch. No break. I haven't had a full day off in three weeks."
"So take one," Mack says.
"I can't take one." She yanks her sketchbook off the table.
"If I'm not in that chair, I'm not making money, and if I'm not making money, I don't eat.
That's how it works when you don’t have a pack to fall back on.
" She gives him a pointed look. "It's all me, all the time, forever, until I die at my own station with a needle in my hand. "