Page 26 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)
It seemed odd for a coach to appear near the scene of a pheromone spike by himself while the rest of the defensive line was still on the field practicing.
Could he have prompted Landon and Tyler to fight—was that part of the strategy?
Undermine the players’ emotional stability to the point of injury?
Keeping my head down, I discreetly opened the voice memo function on my phone and hit the record button—just in case. We needed all the evidence we could get.
But that didn’t mean I needed to play nice.
“Look,” Garvey said, taking a step closer. “I think you misunderstood something, and I wanted to take the chance to—”
“Are you injured?” I asked in a disinterested tone, eyes fixed on my tablet.
“No, I’m just—”
“Is a player injured?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Is there a medical emergency in the immediate vicinity that I’m unaware of?” I asked. Garvey could only splutter. “I’ll take that as a no.”
I spared him a single withering glance.
“Then why are you talking to me?”
“Because we got off on the wrong foot. If you got to know me better, alpha to omega, then maybe we could—”
Oh, hell no. This asshole was not going to hit on me in the middle of work. I held up my phone.
“Say another word, and this recording goes to the Omega Affairs office.” A hint of frustration surfaced in my tone. Had he learned nothing? “I told you to leave me alone. Yet here you are, once again interfering with my ability to do my job.”
“Come on, sweetie, you know how much I like you.”
A terse laugh preceded a spear of overwhelming dominance, which hit Garvey square in the chest. His eyes went wide, breaking into a cold sweat as he struggled to breathe, but he couldn’t escape.
Owen wouldn’t let him.
He appeared at my side, wearing his usual black business wear, and a sinister sneer that suited his sharp features a little too well—the precursor to the kiss of death.
“Omega Affairs it is.”
The threat—no, the promise—of Owen helping to carry out swift retribution on my behalf delighted me so much that I almost couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from lifting upwards.
But I didn’t need him to fight my battles.
“Unless Coach Garvey finally learned his lesson.” I raised a brow at Garvey, who tried desperately to nod but could only tilt his sweaty head forward half an inch.
“Hm.” Owen contemplated Garvey’s fate until a ring of sweat appeared around the neck of his sweatshirt and under his armpits. “Very well.”
His dominance receded, and Garvey collapsed against the nearest taping table, gasping for air.
“May I walk you out?” Owen asked.
His tone was so polite it was almost perfunctory—as if he hadn’t just caused Garvey’s entire life to flash before his eyes.
“Sure. Let me grab my things.” I started toward the exam room assigned to me, asking as I walked, “Why are you here?”
“Wyatt should have texted you.”
Owen watched as I packed my tablet, laptop, and other paraphernalia.
After slinging my bag over my shoulder, I scrolled back through my messages. Sure enough, there was a message from Wyatt an hour ago that had gotten buried by Jacobi’s barrage of texts.
Practice running late. Owen’s done terrorizing university prez. He’s got you.
“I hope I’m an acceptable substitute,” Owen said, holding the door to the hallway for me.
“Of course.”
I led the way toward the front entrance, waiting to continue our conversation until we were almost out of the building.
We’d both learned from our earlier mistake.
“Make any headway with university administration?”
“Somewhat.” Owen held the door for me again. We stepped into the frigid wind whipping off the river. “At the very least, they’re taking Tabitha seriously. But I don’t think they’ll let us do anything until after the holidays.”
“Classes resume the second week of January.” Something I knew for sure, having just consulted the calendar multiple times while selecting my interview slot. “Which is after most of the playoff games will be done. How convenient.”
“Does Northport have a chance at the title?”
“That’s a Cal question. All I know is that they’re lucky. Conference champions automatically go to the quarterfinals, which gives Northport a few weeks to rest and recover. Maybe the defensive line won’t be made of Swiss cheese by the end of the month.”
“What about Garvey?” Owen asked, reaching in front of me, long fingers resting on the passenger door handle. His gray eyes were even colder than the encroaching winter.
Running my teeth over my bottom lip, I thought it over.
As much as I hated the idea of causing problems, Garvey was a menace. If he was willing to bother me in a secure area after being suspended and demoted, what might he do to an omega player like Landon or one of the other lower-ranked staff members?
“That was strike two.” I held Owen’s probing gaze. “If he crosses me again… I’m going to pursue legal options.”
Owen nodded and opened the door for me. “And the recording?”
“I’ll send a copy to Cal and Dr. McEwen, just in case.”
“Good.” He shut the door firmly, and we were soon underway—only to wind up sitting in traffic on the bridge.
Owen leaned against the window, staring at the emergency responders clearing a collision by the exit ramp as if they were subject to his mental compulsions.
“I never expected you to apologize,” I said, keeping my tone light, running my thumb along the seatbelt. “And I certainly never expected you to grovel via scientific research. However…”
I paused, unnerved by the sharp turn of his head. Owen’s direct attention burned my cheek.
“I must admit,” I continued, “it’s a very effective method. So much so, I might refuse to accept apologies that don’t include reference sections in the future.”
Owen’s crisp laugh, delightful as the first crunch of fresh snow underfoot, sent a pleased tingle through me.
We were okay. Which meant my heat was going to be okay.
For the first time in my life, my heat was going to be an experience I enjoyed—maybe not to the point of ecstasy, but there would be ample pleasure—in the company of men I liked.
And, in one or two special cases, even loved.