Page 23 of Tempting Fate

Patch spins to face me, features carefully still. His eyes are hazel, I notice, with green flecks, but that might be the light catching them. He’s unfairly handsome. Ridiculously so. My stomach twists again.

“Um. What can I get you?”

I will my voice to remain steady. I can handle this. Him. Whatever. I came here to find a werewolf, didn’t I? One man is nothing in comparison to that.

So I channel as much public-school attitude as I can muster—I don’t want to be rude, just want to make it clear that he’s being rude—and ask for our drinks. “When Dax and Cecile order their next ones, I’ll pay for those, too.”

Patch stares at me for a moment too long. I raise an eyebrow.

His shoulders rise, colour sweeping up the back of his neck as he turns to grab a glass. Ah. He knows, then. He knows but keeps doing it anyway.

I feign disinterest as he pulls the pints, turning my gaze on the rest of the pub. It’s filled up some since we arrived, and this place is clearly the local for a lot of these people—they all know each other, even between the small groups they’re in.

Another man steps up to the bar beside me. He’s maybe ten years older than I am but has a wicked smile and seems to know Patch well. “Fill her up when you’re done with those, huh?” he asks Patch as he sets his empty glass on the top of the bar.

“Sure, got it.”

The stranger looks at me. Really looks at me, but still not with quite the same intensity as Patch did earlier. The grin widens, becoming something wolfish. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“To this pub? Sure.”

“I’m Leo.” He sticks out his hand.

“Em.” I shake it and for a beat or two, Leo doesn’t let go.

Patch sets the next pint down a little harder and snatches up Leo’s glass. Leo doesn’t even look his way.

“How are you finding the place? I know the barman could be friendlier…”

Patch makes a sound under his breath. Almost like a growl. I shake my head. “It’s all great. I’m here with some friends.”

I jerk my chin in the direction of Nick and the others, and Leo’s eyes go a little wide. Patch puts his pint down in front of him so hard that some of the beer sloshes over the rim.

“There you go.”

The words are hardly more than a growl, but Leo doesn’t seem to take that to heart. He gives me another grin and takes his pint, making his way over to a group of similarly aged men and women sitting in one corner.

Patch glares after him. I scowl. Whatever is going on here—and I’m not a fool, not really—I don’t like it.

“Patch,” I say, and when he doesn’t look at me, more firmly, “Patch.”

Startled, his gaze leaps to mine. “You…?”

“I don’t appreciate the way you acted just now. The way you’ve been acting all night.”

“I haven’t—”

“Enough,” I say and hear that steel thread of command in my voice that has become increasingly rare of late.

Patch instantly falls silent. His eyes go wide, and he swallows hard.

“You’ve been rude. I don’t want you staring at me all the time. And that was uncalled for, how you just acted.”

“He was—” Patch begins, then snaps his mouth shut. We’re both silent for a beat. Then, “Sorry.” He tips his head to the side, tendons tight in his throat.

It’s my turn to swallow hard. I force my voice steady. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes! Yes, I—” He pushes a hand through his hair, and I’m surprised to see it’s trembling. “I am sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but that feels like a lie. Patch pours the remaining drinks and when I look back at the group, Jamie and the other man have come back inside, though Jamie is watching me worriedly.

I pay and then pause, looking at Patch for a moment.

“Is anyone else working with you today?”

“I finish at eight.”

“All right.” I summon that command from before, the one he responded to without thinking. “Join us after that. I want to get to know you.”

He wants to argue. I can see it. But he shivers a little, eyes wide again.

“Yeah, okay.”