Chapter 14 #2
The new voice cuts through the tension like a blade. Deep, steady, with an undercurrent of authority that makes Aaron’s head snap up.
One of the alphas from the bar stands a few feet away. Up close, he’s even more imposing: broad shoulders filling out a flannel shirt, work boots planted like he’s grown from the concrete, blue eyes that hold Aaron’s without blinking.
“No problem.” Aaron’s smile turns ugly. “Just having a friendly conversation.”
“Looks like the conversation’s over.” It’s not a suggestion.
Aaron’s jaw tightens. For a moment, I think he might actually try something—might throw a punch or pull a knife or whatever it is that men like him do when their dominance is challenged. But something in the newcomer’s stance makes him reconsider.
“Sure thing.” Aaron pushes off the wall, shooting me a look that promises this isn’t finished. “I’ll see you around, Phoenix.”
The way he says my name makes my skin crawl. Like he’s tasting it. Claiming it.
“Not if I see you first,” I mutter as he stalks away.
The newcomer watches him go, tracking his movements until Aaron disappears around the corner. Only then does he turn to me, those ocean-blue eyes softer now but still intense enough to make my pulse jump.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” I take another drag of my cigarette, trying to look more composed than I feel. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
“I’m sure you have.” He doesn’t move closer, respecting the bubble of space Aaron violated. “But that isn’t the kind of guy you want to give a second chance.”
“I’m getting that.” I study him openly now that we’re alone. He’s handsome in that rugged, weathered way that speaks to a life lived outdoors. Not polished like Atticus or refined like Mason, but solid. Real. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”
He shoves both hands in his pockets, lips quirking in the smallest of smiles. “I’m Judah Daniels. Pretty sure everyone in town has already figured out who you are.”
His acknowledgment of my notoriety doesn’t feel threatening like it did with Aaron. If anything, he says it like we’re in on the same joke.
“Thanks for the rescue, Judah Daniels.” I gesture with my cigarette toward the space Aaron vacated. “Though I could have handled it.”
“I don’t doubt that.” His mouth quirks in what might be the beginning of a smile. “But I didn’t come out here to rescue you.”
“No?” I raise an eyebrow. “What, you followed me for an autograph?”
“Pretty much.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You got a little sister, or something?”
“Mabie—my little sister—would kill me if I let an opportunity like this go by. She’s been a fan of yours for years.” He has the grace to look slightly abashed, as if his love for his sister is barely enough to overcome the cringe of approaching me cold for an autograph. “You’re smart.”
“Smarter than I look?” I can’t keep the edge from my voice. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
His almost-smile widens into something genuine. “That’s not what I meant.”
“No?”
“No.” He leans against the wall, keeping a respectful distance. “I’ve never found much correlation between how smart and how pretty a girl is.”
The comment catches me off guard. He doesn’t say it like a line. It’s not a come-on. Just a statement of fact delivered with the casual confidence of someone who isn’t trying to butter me up.
I am very much not used to appreciation without expectation.
I take a long drag of my cigarette to hide my sudden inexplicable consternation, letting the smoke curl between us like a shield.
“Those things will kill you,” he says.
“Yes, I know. That’s why I quit.”
“This one must just be for practice, then.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “You sound like my assistant. He’d eat this before he let me smoke it.”
Judah studies me for a moment, then pulls out his own pack of cigarettes—Marlboro Reds, because of course—and lights one with practiced ease. The flame briefly illuminates the sharp angles of his face, the shadow of stubble along his jaw.
“Sounds like an interesting guy. Tell me about him.” He says it casually, leaning back against the brick wall.
“About Mason?”
“Mm.”
“Mason is…” I search for words that can possibly encompass what Mason means to me. “He’s the most competent person I’ve ever met. Organized. Efficient. The kind of guy who has backup plans for his backup plans.”
Judah nods, smoke curling from his lips. “Sounds like the perfect personality for an assistant.”
“He’s also so kind,” I continue, surprising myself with the need to make sure Judah understands this.
“Not in the showy way that people are when they want credit for it. In the quiet way. The way that matters. Like he is always thinking about me and what I need. He takes care of me. Better than I deserve, probably.”
“Not sure that last part is true.” Judah watches me closely over the glowing tip of his cigarette. “Sounds like he’s more than just an assistant.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The defensive edge creeps back into my voice.
“Just an observation.” He shrugs, the movement rolling through those broad shoulders. “Most people don’t talk about their employees the way you talk about him.”
I laugh, but it comes out hollow. “Yeah, well. Codependency is one of my kinks. My accountant would kill me if he knew how much money I’d offer Mason to never leave.”
“Someone that devoted is sticking around for more than the money.” Judah’s voice drops lower, those blue eyes steady on mine. “I can see why.”
Heat floods my face, and for once it has nothing to do with embarrassment or anger.
This man—this stranger with ocean eyes and work-roughened hands—is flirting with me.
And not in the calculated way of industry alphas who see me as a stepping stone or a trophy, but in the straightforward way of someone who simply sees something he likes.
I go to take another drag of my cigarette only to realize it’s gone out. I stare at it stupidly, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands.
“Here.” Judah steps closer, just close enough to reach his lit cigarette toward mine.
The movement brings his arm into the light from the bar’s window, and that’s when I see it—a claiming bite on the inside of his forearm. Faded with time but unmistakable, the scar tissue raised and silver in the dim light.
Something cold and heavy settles in my stomach. Disappointment. Which is ridiculous because I’ve known this man for all of five minutes and have no right to feel anything about his relationship status.
But I do feel it. Sharp and immediate.
I lean in, letting him relight my cigarette, trying to hide the way my hands aren’t quite steady.
“Your omega is lucky,” I say, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near strained. “Most of the alphas I meet aren’t this considerate.”
Judah hesitates, drawing back. His throat works as he swallows, and for a moment he looks almost stricken.
“I’m not sure he would put it quite that way,” he says finally, clearing his throat.
He.
The shape of the word registers distantly, like I’m hearing it from underwater. He. Male omega. The image forms unbidden in my mind: some beautiful, delicate man wrapped in Judah’s strong arms, claimed and protected and cherished.
The current of desire that runs through me is shocking in its intensity.
I’ve never particularly cared about gender when it comes to attraction—alpha, beta, omega, male, female, neither, both—but something about the specific combination of this alpha and a male omega makes my heart race in a way I’m not prepared to examine.
“I should go.” I stub out my cigarette against the brick wall, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but here. “Thanks again for the rescue. And the light.”
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
“Phoenix.”
I look back over my shoulder.
“My family has a place on the edge of town. Near the water.” He says it casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Old manor house. Too big for the few of us left, but it’s been in the family for generations. Plenty of space.”
I stare at him, not understanding.
“If you and your…entourage need more room than the inn can provide, you’re welcome to come stay.” He pulls a business card from his pocket—who even carries business cards anymore?—and holds it out. “No strings attached, of course.”
I take the card automatically. It’s simple, understated. Judah Daniels. Daniels Fishing Co. A phone number. Nothing else.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, though I would be crazy to even consider it.
Though let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my enduring sanity.
He nods once, like that’s all he expected. “Stay safe out here.”
I slip the card into my pocket and hurry away, feeling his eyes on my back until I turn the corner.
The night air does nothing to cool the heat in my cheeks or calm the storm in my chest. I need to get back to the inn, back to the safety of that too-small room with its too-large bed and the two men who are rapidly becoming more complicated than I ever wanted them to be.
But first, I need to figure out what the hell just happened. And why, despite everything, part of me wants to turn around and go back to the alpha with the ocean eyes and the claiming bite that means he belongs to someone else.