Kathryn Moon

“Gin and tonic. Want me to leave it open?”

“Tequila on the rocks.”

The man at my side twisted as the bartender nodded back at him. Narrowed eyes latched onto me immediately, studying me with cursory interest.

He was good-looking, or at least good-looking enough to catch someone’s eye. He had a lean frame, blue eyes, mussed light-brown hair, weak chin,

and patchy stubble. A different week, and I might’ve smiled and encouraged him to chat me up a bit. Tonight I was in the mood for something else.

Philia was a little shelter against the weight of alphas and omegas on my mind. And if that wasn’t enough, the music was always good for dancing, the drinks were strong, and the men who showed up looking for women were either hot, well-dressed, or both.

As soon as my feet hit the floor a body collided against my back, sending me stumbling forward, tossing my drink up and walking directly into the splash. Two large, warm hands grasped my hips to keep me from falling on my own face, and they pulled me back against a broad chest. I jerked away from the touch, adrenaline spiking and making my heartbeat ricochet in my chest.

I spun and stumbled back to blow off whoever ran into me, only to find my words drying up on my tongue. Fuuuuuck, pretty, my brain declared. Which was correct and also kind of an understatement.

smiling as his eyes took equal interest in looking me over as mine did with him.

Short, inky black hair framed his masculine beauty. He had dense stubble growing over his tan jaw and thick eyebrows over dark eyes. His features were broad, and he had a mouth designed by God herself for kissing, with full but not plump lips. Latino or Hispanic I guessed, looking at eyelashes that women would’ve paid good money for from a beauty store.

Now we’re talking. This was what I was in the mood for. Even if I hadn’t known it a minute ago. It was like I’d been waiting for this absurdly handsome man to walk into me.

“It’s my fault for not looking,”