Page 52 of Labor of Love

But Bracken remembered.

Oh, how he remembered.

Tanner started ticking off on his fingers. “One: You weren’t impaired that night. And two: See, I would have called, but you slipped out in the wee hours of the morning and didn’t leave your number.”

Ah, yes. That.

Bracken cleared his throat. Delicately, of course. He wasn’t some oafish bar thug, not like the rest of the rabble that patronized this shoddy establishment.

“I’m surprised you’re still here, actually,” he said lightly. “Transient types, bartenders.”

Bracken had been, in truth,horrifiedby the possibility that Tanner might have disappeared in the intervening months since their last encounter. But that was his own business.

Tanner had the audacity to look amused. “I own the place.”

Damn it. Bracken should have known. He refused to let his surprise show—that would give Tanner too much satisfaction. Bracken clucked his tongue instead. “Oh, that’s really too bad. I’ve heard a large percentage of restaurants fail in the first year.”

Tanner started grinning again. “Good thing we don’t serve food. And that we’ve already been open for five.”

Bracken gave him a falsely sympathetic look. “And you still have to tend the place yourself? Can you even afford to give yourself a salary?”

Tanner laughed, deep and rich and not at all enticing. “I make do.”

Sweet cherry blossoms. Had Bracken really slept with this—thismortal?

He’d been so very stupid that night, lured in by the promise of big hands and strong arms and a thick cock to match.

And yes, of course Tanner wastechnicallyhandsome. Very handsome, in fact, if one liked their men large and rugged and bearded, with abundant dark hair and an inviting grin.

Which Bracken, of course, did not.

But Bracken had been strangely fascinated by the bartender. (Or barowner, as it were.) Tanner was…confident. And while the fae version of confidence was a self-aware kind of haughtiness, Tanner’s confidence was this odd, indifferent version. He wasn’t overly proud of himself; he didn’t border on arrogant. He was just…certain. Like he knew for a fact that he could make a person feel good and had a way of making sure that person knew it too.

And he had. Oh gods, had he ever? He’d coaxed Bracken’s body into absurdly pliant submission. He’d bent and twisted him and driven into him like he’d had a right to. He’d whispered soft, sweet things that Bracken should have by all rights detested, and then he’d made Bracken come more times than he’d thought himself capable.

But no, Bracken couldn’t think about it now, not even a little. It was making him too horny.

Stupid, terrible, wretched hormones.Bracken wished he had the kind that made him abhor touch. Then he could have been as bitchy as he wanted with no consequence. But instead he had the kind that made him want to strip Tanner’s pants off and ride the human’s cock until it fell right off.

Which would be a shame because it was a very nice one. If one liked thick, veiny human cocks.

Which Bracken, of course, didnot.

It was time to get down to business. They couldn’t continue facing off at this counter for endless hours. Mostly because Tanner’s rich human scent was wafting over, and it was doing annoying things to Bracken’s inner bits. Most fae smelled like delicate things—flowers or tender fruits—but Tanner smelled warm and manly and…good.

No, not good. Terrible.

Bracken took the smallest sip of his dewdrops that he could manage, needing something to wet his dry mouth. “What do you know about fae omegas?”

The question finally had Tanner dropping his incessant grin. His dark brow furrowed in thought. “Not much at all, I guess. Humans don’t have those designations, and not many fae come through here.”

Uneducated, unknowledgeable brute.

Bracken scowled, lowering his voice despite the fact that no one was near enough to hear them. “You didn’t notice the self-lubrication?” he hissed.

Tanner shrugged his stupidly broad shoulders. “You’re a different species. There’s always bound to be…unique attributes.”

Gods, and now the human’s face was doing that thing again. Bracken slapped a hand on the bar. “Stop lookingsmug.”

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