Page 32 of Pin My Alpha
He gives me a small, pleased smile.
“It’s a bribe,” Callum says, grabbing one for himself. “He’s trying to win you over.”
“Everyone’s already here,” Jude says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “This is a rescue mission. It’s our civic duty.”
A short, rough laugh escapes me.
Shay’s head turns. He hears it over all the noise, and his eyes find mine across the room. For a second, he’s not looking at the project manager or the problem to be solved. He’s just looking at me.
His scent warms the air—sandalwood and dark chocolate—and something deep in my chest goes quiet and vicious.
Mine.
I set the rest of the cookie down before I do something stupid.
He clears his throat, looking away first. “Right. Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to tell me where the extension cords are?”
“Back hall. Storage closet.”
He stares at me. “You have a storage closet?”
“Yeah.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this when I was making the master supply list?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“That’s not a system, Declan.”
He walks toward me, clipboard held like a shield against his chest, and stops too close. Close enough that I have to either stand my ground or take a step back.
I don’t back up.
I can smell the sandalwood and dark chocolate that is purely him, but underneath it, woven into the cotton of my Henley that he stole, is me. Cedar and whiskey. My scent on his skin, in his clothes. The combination hits me like a fist. Every instinct I have screams to close the last few inches of air between us, press my nose to the side of his neck, and make the scent stronger.
His gaze drops to my mouth, then snaps away.
“Storage closet,” he says, the words clipped.
“Back hall.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He looks back at me then, eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying this. Watching me run around your bar with a clipboard.”
“You’re not doing it by yourself,” I say, and it comes out too fast, too earnest.
Shay’s expression flickers. Just for a second, a tiny crease appears between his brows, and I know he’s about to put the wall back up.
“Right,” he says, his voice dry. “We’ve also got Knox and his emotional support staple gun.”
From across the room, Knox lifts the tool. “It’s just a staple gun.”
“Everything’s emotional support if you love it enough,” Jude says cheerfully.
A laugh breaks the tension in the room, but Shay’s still looking at me. The corner of his mouth softens for a half-second, so small I almost miss it. Then he shifts the clipboard under his arm and brushes past me toward the back hall.
