But Dakota doesn’t reach for the liquor cabinet. Instead, he swings the fridge door open, rummages around, and emerges triumphantly with a plastic jug of apple juice. He holds it aloft like a prize.
I lose it. The laugh that tears out of me is pure and helpless, bubbling up until I’m covering my mouth with my hands, trying to contain it.
And Alex—he just watches me, that proud, satisfied grin on his face likethiswas exactly what he came here for.
Dakota unscrews the cap with a dramatic twist and pours the apple juice into a bright green plastic cup—the kind with faded cartoon dinosaurs on the side from God knows when. He lifts it like it’s a crystal glass, wrist angled all fancy, and turns toward me.
But before he can present it, Tadeo clears his throat. “Hold it.”
Dakota freezes mid-step, eyebrows shooting up.
“You forgot the garnish,” Tadeo speaks so flat and serious, that Dakota blinks, confused.
The young alpha turns and opens the nearest drawer, digging around, before coming up victorious. In his hand is a neon pink straw, spiraled and bouncy like a spring, bright. He drops it into the cup with surgical precision. Then he looks Dakota dead in the eye, completely stone-faced. “You may now serve the lady.”
Dakota’s back snaps ramrod straight, his hand slapping against his forehead in a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
He pivots on his heel and approaches me like he’s delivering the crown jewels. The cup lands in front of me with all the pomp of a five-star restaurant.
I straighten in my chair like I’m at some high-end gala instead of a wobbly kitchen table with mismatched chairs. I’m still smiling like an idiot, but my posture’s perfect as I fold my hands primly in my lap, then I nod at Dakota.
“Thank you, sir,” I say in the most formal voice I can manage.
Dakota beams, stepping back with a little bow.
I lift the bright green cup, straw bobbing, and take a sip. Sweetness floods my tongue. Nothing like whiskey, nothing sharp or biting—just cold and sugary. But Alex isn’t watching the cup. His eyes are on my mouth, dark and heavy, lingering on my lips like every slow pull of juice through the straw is a sin he’s desperate to commit.
My skin heats under that gaze, and I have to swallow twice before I can breathe again.
“How is it?” Alex whispers, voice pitched low and rough like we’re the only two people in the world.
The room tilts warm and my tongue suddenly feels a little too big in my mouth, but I manage to say, “It’s the best whiskey I’ve ever had.”
Dakota slaps the counter with his palm. “Damn right it is. Only the best from our finest barrel.” Then he pauses, frowning as his head tips toward Tadeo. “That’s right, isn’t it? Whiskey comes from barrels?”
Tadeo glances up from the stove, a soft, amused smile tugging at his mouth. He nods once, but he looks like he’d agree with Dakota no matter what nonsense came out of the beta’s mouth.
“Fuck, it smells good in here.” Knox breezes into the room, crossing the kitchen in long strides as he slides right behind Tadeo. His big hand settles low on Tadeo’s hip, possessive but casual, and he hums, deep in his chest. “I’m starving.”
Tadeo tilts his chin back toward him. “It’scarne con tomate.” He speaks with a rich Spanish accent that rolls over the name of the dish like honey. It’s the kind of sound that makes my thighs press together.
Alex, still lounging beside me, finally turns to Knox. “You talk to Marc? Is he good with me quitting now, or does he need me until he can get a replacement?”
“It’s fine.” Knox gives a little wave of his hand as he moves to Dakota, kissing the beta before pulling him in for a warm hug. “There’s a job I might need you for next week, but Tony said he’d take over all your other shifts until we find someone permanent.”
“You quit your job?” I ask Alex, and he nods like he couldn’t be happier.
“Yup. From now on, you’re stuck with me and Dakota all day.” His smile widens, bright and easy.
I want to be happy for him, but a part of me worries he’ll get bored. Alphas love to work. They’re nothing without their careers—or at least, that’s what Brayden used to say.
“What did you do for work?” I ask.
“I’m a transport specialist,” Alex says, and Knox snorts loudly.
“What’s that?” I ask, leaning in.
“Knox and I work for a moving company,” he says. “We haul heavy boxes and furniture all over town, unload them, and repeat.”
