Baiting Him (How to Catch an Alpha #2)(27)

“Is Chrissie okay?”

“She’s sleeping. She’ll be okay, but I’m not leaving her tonight, so I need you to cover for me and do drawer counts at the club and bars after closing. I also left my bike at Tillie’s grocery store on Main and need someone to pick it up for me. Do you still have my spare key?”

“Yeah, I’ll send someone to drop Juan off. He knows how to ride a bike, so it’ll be all good.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem, but tomorrow you’ll need to come in and deal with this order bullshit. I’ve been on the phone all day with the supplier, and they’re adamant that we should’ve received a full shipment.”

“Fuck.” This afternoon, before everything went down with Chrissie, I got a call from Georgia informing me that over half the alcohol I ordered was missing, and most of it was top-shelf bottles of liquor. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair.

“All right, man. Let me know if you need anything else from me tonight.”

“Will do.” He hangs up before I do, and I pull my phone from my ear. I call the club and listen to the phone ring.

One of the waitresses answers loudly over the music playing in the background. “Twilight, Hanna speaking.”

“Hey, Hanna, it’s Gus. Is Georgia around?”

“Yeah, hold on, I’ll get her for you.” The phone goes silent as I’m put on hold.

Georgia’s voice comes on the line. “Gus. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to let you know Luke’s gonna be in to handle the drawer counts at the club and bars tonight.”

“Are you sick? I can leave and bring you something, or just come over to keep you company.” She sounds breathless and hopeful.

“I’m not sick.”

“Oh.” I hear her disappointment loud and clear.

“Call if there are any issues. I’ll have my cell on.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, later.” I hang up.

After I’m done making calls, I wait for LeFou to finish eating, then take him out. Our walk is much shorter than it normally is, and as soon as he takes care of his business, I lead him back inside the building, anxious to return to the woman currently asleep in my bed.

I’ve never cared about a woman the way I do about her. From the moment I saw her inside the men’s bathroom at my club and she gave me her cute little smile and told me thank you, my instinct told me she was different. And after I cornered her at the bar and got a dose of her sassy mouth, and then again at her shop, I knew she was something special. That realization has only grown after spending the last few days with her.

It’s not the sex—which is beyond better than anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s just her. She makes me feel like I won the lottery every time I make her laugh. And when I laugh at something she does or says and she gets that pleased look on her face, like I’m giving her a gift, I don’t think I have ever seen anything more beautiful. I’ve never known a woman like her before, and I know I should count myself lucky I stumbled upon her.

When LeFou and I get back up to my condo, I let him off his leash, and he makes a beeline for the bedroom door, nudging it with his nose until he gets in. I enter the room behind him, watching him jump up on the bed, spin around, and then curl up at Chrissie’s feet. I change into a pair of sweats before I get into bed and wrap myself around her from behind, and then I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in.

“Gus?” she calls sleepily, threading her fingers between mine against her chest, and I smile at hearing my nickname coming from her for the first time.

“I’m here,” I tell her quietly, kissing the back of her head.

“What time is it?” she questions, letting my hand go so she can roll to face me.

“A little after ten.”

“Ten,” she whispers, sounding horrified as her body grows tight.

I ignore the tightness in her frame and draw her more firmly against me. “How are you feeling?”

“I fell asleep in the car. I . . . you were supposed to go to work,” she states, ignoring my question before adding, “I should go home. I’m sure you need to leave.”

When she attempts to pull away, I roll her to her back and loom over her. “Work’s covered. Now tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Gaston.” She places her hands against my chest.

“How are you feeling?”

“Um. Hungry,” she answers, sounding unsure.

I smile, touching my lips to her forehead. “What do you want to eat?”

“Pizza.”

“All right.” I let her go with one hand, then reach behind me to grab my cell. I pull up the number for the pizza spot down the street, then ask, “What do you want on your pizza?”

“Cheese.”

“Just cheese?”

“Yeah.”

I press dial, and when someone answers, I place our order, then give them the address and number for my place. They tell me it will be about forty minutes; then I hang up. “We have forty minutes before dinner is here.”

“If you have to work, I can—”

“Stop.” I cut her off, placing my weight more firmly against her. “I’m here. I want to be here.”