We courted an Omega; she found her scent matches, and she dropped us like we were nothing. We haven’t been open to dating anyone for two years now.
I thought Lain might just be feeling the itch to bond riding him when he brought up the Omegas he saved on the side of the road, but now that she’s sitting at my bar, I can’t deny I feel something too.
It’s unprecedented. It’s not like plenty of beautiful women, tourists or not, don’t find themselves at my bar. But when she touched my arm? It was like my skin was electrified, and I’m not sure I’ve felt that with a woman ever.
“Can you just go give her the food, at the very least?” I say back to Callum.
He rolls his eyes, but grabs the plate and takes it out to the bar.
I watch through the windowpane as he walks behind the bar and hands her the plate. She gives him a smile, that he doesn’t return. In fact, he doesn’t say a word, and walks right back into the kitchen.
“You didn’t need to be a prick,” I chastise him, and he just shrugs his large shoulders.
“You told me to drop off the burger. I did what you asked.”
“And?”
“And she’s pished off her fucking arse.”
Okay, I can’t deny that she’s indeed intoxicated, but that’s why I cut her off and ordered her food.
“She’s having a bad day,” I tell him. Not that she’s told me directly. I’ve just overheard some of her conversation with Alan.
Why, of all people, she’s chosen the oldest Scotsman in this damn town to confide in, I don’t know.
“She’ll be up and gone before the lettuce goes bad in the fridge. You and Lain need to stay away from that Baobhan Sith,” he says, calling her a mythical creature of the Highlands. A beautiful vampiric fairy that lures men to their demise.
“Yeah? Is she going to lure me in and drink my blood?”
“Probably something worse. She’s temporary, Greer. If you want to go fuck her and get it out of your system, be my guest, but don’t get attached.”
I frown at him. I’m not a casual guy and he knows this. He turns his broad back to me. His sous chefs give me looks that say I’ve poked the bear too much and if we want to get through tonight, the best thing I can do is let him be.
When I come back to the bar, Maisie has eaten her entire burger, but she’s resting her forehead on the bar top.
Alan is rubbing her back and points down at her.
“Sorcha, can you take over the bar?” I ask, as my cousin nods and takes over.
I round the bar, grabbing Maisie’s jacket and handbag before lifting her into my arms.
“Alright, damsel, it’s time to get you home,” I tell her and she rests her face against my collarbone.
“Have a goodnight, Maisie!” Alan shouts after her.
Rory is between sets and opens the door for me as we step out into the colder night air. The autumn breeze sends a chill through Maisie and I place her jacket on top of her.
“I can walk,” she says, but doesn’t open her eyes or do anything to move herself out of my arms.
“I don’t doubt you have the ability, but probably not at this very second.”
“Ugh. I never drink like this,” she says, groaning.
“Not the smartest thing to do on your own, let alone in a place you’re not familiar with,” I scold her gently—I can’t help it.
I try to get a whiff of her scent. Nothing. Whatever deodorizers or scent blockers she’s using must be high-grade. There isn’t a single hint of what her scent could be.
She takes a deep breath as I walk down the street toward Heather Beag. Hopefully, in her drunken stupor she doesn’t find it odd that I know where she’s staying—Lain told me.
