Alpha's Revenge (Shifter Ops 3)

The look Rafe is giving me is hot enough to set me on fire.

I clear my throat and focus on my now full plate. “How’s the steak? Is it too rare?”

“No such thing,” Rafe says.

“Good. Save room for dessert,” I chide.

“There's dessert?” Channing looks so adorably eager. I let myself laugh at his expression, even though I know it annoys Rafe. I like annoying Rafe. It’s like foreplay—not that we’re going to go any further.

“Yes,” I say. “A red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. I decorated it to look like a Jersey cow.” I wrinkle my nose at Rafe. “You can pretend you’re eating ribeye the entire time.”

He holds my gaze as he takes his next bite.

My cheeks warm and everyone at the table watches us. Channing and Deke are stuffing their faces with steak, but Sadie has a satisfied look on her face. Hmmm.

Boss and employee. Employee and boss. That’s all Rafe and I are to each other.

“Nice weather we’re having,” I say to fill the silence.

Deke cranes his neck. “If you like snow,” he says.

“Guess I’m staying the night,” Sadie murmurs. She and Deke share a look that shouts Let’s fuck like bunnies! so loud I blush harder and look away to give them privacy.

“That reminds me, Adele,” Rafe's low voice carries over the entire table. Everyone falls silent as if they're waiting for him to make an important pronouncement. Maybe that’s why Rafe acts like he's in charge all the time. Everyone treats him like he’s the boss. “I don't want you driving home by yourself.”

The bottom half of my jaw falls to the floor. “Excuse me?”

He keeps eating like what he said is perfectly reasonable. “The weather isn't good. You need new tires.”

Oh no, he didn't just call attention to my old truck. Is this some sort of dig on how broke I am right now? “My tires will be fine for tonight,” I say calmly.

He shakes his head. “I'll drive you home and pick you up around lunch tomorrow. We’ll keep your truck here and put on the new tires.”

“I don't think that's in our contract,” I say.

He shrugs and pats his mouth with his napkin. “Consider it an addendum.”

“Maybe we should discuss this in your office,” I say. Everyone's eyes ping back and forth between Rafe and me like we're playing a tennis match. Which we are. Not tennis, but a verbal fight. To the death.

“No need to discuss it. I’m driving you home. That’s final.”

I blink at my plate. If I look at Rafe, steam is going to boil out of my head.

Sadie’s eyes are wide. “So, about dessert…”

“Yeah, dessert sounds good,” Deke mutters. His plate is already empty. So is Channing’s. Rafe wasn’t kidding when he said they could pack it away.

“I’ll get it,” I leap up. “Y’all keep eating.” I practically sprint into the kitchen. I need a break from Rafe.

But the big bastard follows me. “I mean it, princess,” he says in a low voice.

“Princess?” I raise a brow, ignoring the little thrill at the nickname. I am not flattered that Rafe gave me a nickname. I refuse to be.

He catches my elbow as I pass and growls in my ear. “You’re not driving in this.”

Visions of turduckens dance in my head. Rafe’s lucky I don't have a deboning knife handy.

“Your food is getting cold,” I reply.

“I mean it,” he murmurs, still holding me.

“Do you grab all your employees like this?” I ask.

He lets me go. I swipe the cake off the marble-topped island and march back to the dining table. “Dessert,” I announce. I look right at Rafe as I hold up the giant carving knife and plunge it into the cake.

His face holds no expression as I carve dessert up and serve it. The red velvet interior looks shocking, just like I planned.

“You know, Sarge is right,” Channing says. “I think we have tires that will work on your truck—we order good ones for our vehicles, and it’s cheaper to buy in bulk. It’d be no trouble to fix you up.”

“Well, thank you then.” I force a little smile to my lips. The act of charity still rankles, but Channing understands how to talk to a person. Rafe and I need to take lessons from him.

You catch more flies with honey. But if I give Rafe a taste of my honey, he’d enjoy it too much. He’d lick it all up...

Crap, now I'm thinking of Rafe licking things. Things that belong to me.

Everyone has their head down, eating. Everyone but Rafe. He’s still staring at me with his hard gaze. We’re back in our tennis match, and the score is love-love.

“You’re not eating your cake,” I say.

“That’s because it looks like someone murdered it.”

“That was the intent.” And because that’s not homicidal enough, I swipe a finger up the knife and lick frosting off my finger. “You know, Channing, maybe you can drive me home. I’m sure Rafe is terribly busy.” Busy being an asshole.