Chapter 3
Brielle
Working sucks. I’ve only had the job for a night, and I hate it.
I can see why omegas happily stay home and take care of everything if they don’t have to do this.
And I’m happily ready to be one of those omegas too.
I scowl at the thought because I don’t know if that’s actually true or if I’m just whining.
I’m not against finding a pack, but who knows if I’ll ever be able to trust alphas again.
A shudder runs through me as I remember how close I’d come to that life unwillingly.
When I joined Kinsey on a road trip to find her dad, I knew this was our landing destination. Brackenridge is a small town, with an appeal I’ve yet to experience, but it has my best friend, and that’s all I need at the moment.
I square my shoulders.
Be a bad bitch, Brielle. You got this. For Kinsey and yourself.
“Table three says you forgot to bring out the water they requested,” Marley mutters as she passes by.
I don’t miss the annoyance in her tone. My new co-worker is not the friendliest person, but it’s better it comes from her than my new boss, Tracy, who already doesn’t have the highest opinion of me.
Sweet Whiskey is a dive bar, with waitresses who dance on the bar top, but it gathers large crowds and so far, decent tips.
My nose scrunches. I hate feeling inadequate compared to the black-haired beauty with a nasty attitude.
Fuck table three and fuck you too is what I want to say. I promised Kinsey that I would try this new thing: a filter on my mouth.
“Sorry. Thanks for reminding me,” I tell her after unclenching my jaw. Then I grab a clean glass and fill it with water.
Marley nods, sliding over a mixed drink. “Bring this to table five.”
Of course there’s not a please in her order.
I bite my tongue and grab both glasses without another word.
With a fake smile pasted on, I drop the drinks, profusely apologizing with a gentle reminder it’s my first day.
Adding a small pout and flutter of my eyelashes, they are like putty in my hands.
Omega powers for the win, even if they can’t tell.
When I’m walking away, I can hear one of the male betas at another table muttering about a prissy omega, and I stiffen.
Only alphas should be able to know we’re omegas by scent.
Our designations are more perceptible to each other.
I know my scent isn’t leaking out; I learned a long time ago how to fake a calmness that masks it.
A trick learned out of necessity to appease parents who were never actually pleased.
A weapon in my arsenal against a certain type of person who used emotions as a weakness, a spot to exploit.
Kinsey joins my side at the bar top as I put in another order of drinks for a table. Her auburn hair is sticking out in places, some stuck to her sweaty forehead. I feel her pain, not even the AC in this dive bar can combat how much we’re running back and forth.
“You okay?”
She nods and laughs a little. “Just a little warm. Probably out of shape. This is a lot of walking.”
I snort. “I know. Makes me feel like the spoiled omegas they assume we are.”
My best friend rolls her eyes. “How’s your first night going?”
With a shrug, I glance over the rowdy crowd. “I’m glad we haven’t had to dance yet.”
Kinsey blows out a breath of relief. “Seriously. I said I would do it, but I’m still nervous.”
The thought of dancing while men watch us with their greedy eyes is not my ideal situation, and I just hope that when the time comes, I can manage to dance on the bar, instead of the tables.
I don’t want anyone to chance copping a feel.
Marley hands over our drinks, moving on to the next orders without a word to either of us.
Kinsey’s lips pinch, and I know her tender heart is trying not to take it personally.
I nudge her shoulder. “A couple more hours and we will have officially completed our first day at, like, a real grown-up job.”
She gives me an amused look. “I’ve had a job before.”
“Okay. Well, don’t show off now,” I tell her, waving my hand dismissively as my stomach clenches at the reminder.
Kinsey wasn’t raised anything like me. While I had both parents, who had more money than they ever needed, Kinsey’s mom was working multiple jobs just to afford the two of them.
I know when I begged my parents to cover Kinsey’s half of the academy tuition, they only did it to hold something over my head.
I didn’t care because I got to keep my best friend at my side.
Kinsey nudges my shoulder. “Don’t worry. With your attention to detail and determination, you’ll be the pro before me.”
I roll my eyes. “Now you’re just trying to butter me up. Sorry, sweetie, I don’t swing that way.”
She laughs, grabbing the order she was waiting on and leaving me there.
I glance around the bar, kind of seeing the charm the longer I’m in it.
Maybe it’s the various mismatched metal signs hanging on the wall, the neon jukebox in the corner, and the worn-down seats from regulars.
Or maybe it’s the friendly patrons. I’ve felt more welcome here than at any of the pretentious events I’ve attended with my family.
Grabbing my own order, I deliver it to the table and then walk around the rest of the ones in my section before returning to my claimed spot in the corner next to the bar.
“Not bad,” Tracy says, and I preen before she adds, “for a rookie.”
I deflate. “Well, it is my first day after all.”
I hate that I even want her approval. I don’t need anyone’s approval.
A singular eyebrow rises on Tracy’s face, her spiky black hair barely moves when she cocks her head to the side. “Right. Have Marley show you where to take out the trash.”
I bite my tongue at the immediate disgust at touching any trash bags, but Kinsey and I actually do need these jobs.
We spent our last few dollars getting to Brackenridge and paying for a room at the only inn in this small town.
The card loaded with money is burning a hole in my pocket, demanding I stop being stubborn and just use it.
But I’ll be damned if my parents can find us, not after everything I did to get away.
I follow down the back hallway, finding Marley wiping her hands where she’s been stacking newly cleaned glasses.
“Ready, Princess?”
My anger flares. “Don’t call me that. Don’t call me Princess, Blondie, Barbie, or anything. I have a fucking name,” I snap. They're just nicknames, but they’ve never been wielded kindly.
Marley tilts her head, studying me carefully before smiling. “Fair enough. I respect it.”
The tension in my shoulders immediately bleeds out, and I blow out a breath. “They’re like sturdy bags, right? Like, they’re not gonna rip open, and all the trash isn’t going to fall all over me, and then I’ll smell like trash all night?”
Her smile fades, and she rolls her eyes. “I think Tracy has owned the business long enough to know what kind of trash bags to buy.”
A retort is on my tongue, but I hold it in. Fair enough, as she would say. I guess it was kind of a dumb question, but I will scream if trash lands on me. A shudder courses through me at the thought. Marley grabs a key hanging from a coiled plastic wristband and holds it out for me.
“We had to start locking it up because Old Jerry digs through.”
I take the key reluctantly, and when Marley doesn’t explain further, I ask, “And who is Old Jerry?”
“Our town raccoon. Bakery feeds him plenty. Doesn’t need to be digging in our trash where we frequently have broken glass.” Marley shrugs as if I was supposed to understand any of that. Then she points to the back door. “Dumpster is out back. I dragged the bags down the hallway for you.”
Her eyes scan the length of me with a small smirk. “Good luck.”
I can’t hold back a scowl as she walks past. Just because I’m an omega and I went to an academy, doesn’t mean I’m incapable of throwing away the trash. No one knows the type of family I grew up in, so her assessment irritates me more than I can voice.
By the time I’ve dragged the bags the rest of the way and gotten the back door open, sweat is forming down my spine and hair is sticking to my forehead. I’m trying to keep my breathing under control because I’ll be damned if I’m panting over trash because I’ve never worked out a day in my life.
By the time I get the door open and drag the bag over, I’m ready to quit. This isn’t the life for me, but I don’t have a choice. I can do this. I believe in myself. If I can drum up the courage to leave everything I’ve ever known behind, I can pick up a damn trash bag.
I stretch my arms out a little and then grab the second bag, dragging it to the dumpster.
A manly grunt escapes me as I try to lift it and nearly topple over.
I let go of the bag to catch my footing and then blow out a breath.
Is this even legal? There’s no way we have to throw away this much stuff.
Haven’t they heard of recycling or something? I should report Tracy for labor abuse.
“Need help?”
I startle, turning to face the large man walking toward me. Stuffing my hand into my apron, I curl my fingers around the pen as I try to calm my racing heart and shake the chill that’s spiking in my chest.
My eyes flicker back to the shut door, and he pauses in his stride. When I glance back, his hands are up in a surrendering pose.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I scoff, unable to hold back my snarky comment. “You didn’t mean to scare the lone woman in a sketchy alley in the middle of the night?”
His lip rolls under his teeth, amused by my answer. It lowers some of my tension; most men have been put off by my sarcasm lately. I had grown used to saying what I think they want to hear at home, and look where that got me.
With some of my shield melting away, I take him in and nearly groan when I recognize how gorgeous he is.
Muscles ripple under the dark plaid button-up t-shirt, his dark hair peeks out under his cowboy hat, and the stubble along his jaw is a few days old.
I just know if he turned around, his ass would be perfectly molded in those jeans.
I don’t even want to acknowledge the big brown eyes that I want to melt in.
“I can turn around if I’m making you uncomfortable. I just saw you struggling.”
I look down at the large black trash bag slumped over against the dumpster and blush. He saw me try to lift it and nearly fall on my ass? That’s embarrassing. A reminder that I should work out so I don’t have noodles for arms, so I don’t look like a weakling in front of a big strong alpha.
“They’re a little heavy,” I admit.
“Yeah, I figured.” The assumption makes my temper flare. Does he think I couldn’t do it if he hadn’t come out?
“It doesn’t mean I’m not capable of doing it if I tried, just because I’m an omega.”
That twitch of his lips is back. “Never said otherwise.” His eyes drag down the length of me, and it does something to me.
A hum of excitement I can’t control settles like a warm blanket over me.
I shouldn’t be flirting with an alpha, but something about this one isn’t setting off alarm bells.
That scares me for an entirely different reason, but I ignore it for now.
“Then I accept your offer. Such a gentleman.” I wave my hand for him to help himself.
I move a few steps back, and when he comes closer, I get a hint of his scent.
Smoky campfire with a hint of marshmallow.
It makes my mouth water, and I swallow down my drool discreetly.
I do not need to be lusting after the first alpha who is kind to me.
He picks up the bags with ease, tossing them into the dumpster like they weigh nothing and shutting the heavy lid that took me a few minutes to open.
“Got the key?”
His question breaks my obvious stare, and I scramble to get it while letting go of the pen I hadn’t realized I was still holding.
“Here. Thank you.”
He locks the dumpster and hands back the key without a word. Then we’re staring at each other a little awkwardly as I work not to inhale his scent anymore. It’s starting to mess with my head and activate some omega impulses I want to keep buried.
He clears his throat. “I’m Maverick, by the way.”
“Brielle.”
Maverick gives me a small smile. “I don’t want to assume the obvious because I don’t come here often, but you new here?”
“I fear it is that obvious.”
He nods. “We don’t get many people who stick around. What brings you to Brackenridge?”
I shrug. “Just came for the adventure. This was my best friend’s destination.”
“Sweet Whiskey was?” His eyebrows furrow as if he can’t figure out why that’d be, and I almost laugh, but that’s not my story to tell.
“Can’t get far without some dough. It’s my first day, actually.
“Lucky me then.”
The flirty tone makes me bite down on my lips before I blow out a steadying breath. “Maybe, maybe not. Don’t ask me how many glasses I’ve dropped, or the amount of orders I’ve forgotten.”
His lips do that twitching thing again, sending another flutter straight to my chest.
“Okay, I won’t. Is it okay to ask about getting a shot of bourbon from ya?”
I scrunch my nose. “Woah, Cowboy. Ordering bourbon in a bar named Sweet Whiskey?”
His eyebrows raise, and his hands tuck into his pockets. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Sounds like you’re looking for trouble,” I tease.
Something flickers in his expression, and he nods. “Yeah, maybe I was a little. I’ll see you around, Brielle.”
He turns and walks away, leaving me confused and a little hurt.
Why should I care that flirting with a stranger ended that way?
Do I find it odd that he decided not to come into the bar?
Yeah, but we were just hanging around trash.
Not the most pleasant way to start your night.
I shake my head. I wasn’t looking to draw the interest of an alpha, but I can’t deny that I liked his attention on me.