Page 118 of Pin My Alpha
“Need to check the ice machine,” I say.
Tessa, who’s definitely heard every word from the outdoor bar, doesn’t look up. “Ice machine’s fine.”
“Wow,” I say. “Nobody asked you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Declan’s mouth twitches.
I stand, smoothing my hands down the front of my shorts like I’m not one breath from climbing him in front of my entire found family.
Jude points at us. “If you come back smelling like sex, I’m stealing dessert.”
“You’re stealing dessert anyway,” I tell him.
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s literally the point.”
Declan takes my hand.
No one says anything. Not really. It’s just his hand around mine, warm and familiar, his fingers lacing through mine as he leads me toward the door.
But I notice.
I notice every single time.
The bar is cool after the patio, dim and empty except for the soft amber glow behind the bottles. The doors are locked, the stools are tucked under the counter, and the whole room smells like polished wood, lemon cleaner, old beer, and us.
It’s ours.
The thought hits harder than it should.
Declan lets the door swing shut behind us, then turns to look at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
He steps closer. “You’ve been staring at the sign all night.”
“It was expensive.”
“You approved the quote.”
“I can still have concerns.”
“You like it.”
I fold my arms. “I tolerate it.”
His hands settle at my waist. Big. Steady. The same hands that can haul kegs, fix a broken table leg, or hold me down in the nest until I stop spinning out. The same hands that signed a contract giving me half of the one thing he spent years building alone. I trace the thick tendons on the backs of them, the veins standing out under the skin, and my mouth goes dry remembering how those hands feel spread across my ribs when he’s keeping me exactly where he wants me.
“You love it,” he says.
“I love the return on investment.”
