Page 16 of Breaking the Alpha (Serpent’s Tongue Ink #2)

Angelina wanted to meet up for coffee to discuss their arrangement, and he couldn’t help thinking things might finally be looking up for him.

Renting the basement suite of a woman he was trying his best not to fall for more and more every day might not be the best way to keep his focus on his future in LA, but it was an opportunity he couldn’t pass over.

He’d slept like the dead last night, surrounded by the floral and spice scent that permeated every part of Angelina’s home.

He woke feeling rejuvenated. Feeling ready to take on the day.

“We can lock up once I finish tallying the deposit,” Birch announced, squinting at his computer screen for a moment before shutting the system down. “Did you send any of those pictures to your agent yet? Jocelyn wants to add a few to the Serpent website, so forward a few to me while you’re at it.”

“I haven’t even looked them over,” he admitted, pulling his phone out and opening his camera app. He angled it so Birch could see the shots, his thumb swiping and deleting until they were down to five to choose from. “Thoughts?”

His brother scanned the finalists, flipping through them slowly. “You are one ugly bastard.” He didn’t bat an eye when River booted his leg. “If we crop this one, we have an action shot without the full needle experience. And this one, right before you go in.”

Nodding, he texted them to Birch’s number. “Which ones should I upload online?”

“The cropped action shot and the last one.”

Scrolling to the final shot of the night, he frowned at the image of him sitting on a stool looking up at the camera with a piercing pamphlet in his hand. “Why this one? No one wants to see me sitting in the back of your shop reading a care sheet.”

“Maybe not,” his brother said with a shrug, “but it’s the only one where you look happy. And isn’t that what your agent asked for?”

*

River knew he was clenching his teeth hard enough to crack a molar, but in the moment, he didn’t give a rat’s ass if dental work was in his future. “Can I ask what it was that changed your mind?”

Angelina licked her lips and swallowed. “Reasons.”

He glared at the full coffee mug he was grasping tight enough to risk breaking.

“Fair enough.” With a long exhale, he nodded slowly, pulled his wallet out, set a twenty on the table to cover their tab, and did his best to give her a smile he hoped hid his disappointment.

“I should head out. It’s getting late and I have to hit the gym in the morning before work. ”

She grabbed his hand as he stood and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I really am. I just—can’t.”

That stung. It brought back memories of his childhood when he’d invite friends over and they’d give him the same apologetic look and utter the same words.

He heard that exact phrase over and over again from every girl he liked in junior high, girls whose families would never allow a Baker to be seen holding hands with their precious daughters.

But it was when he heard it from the older women who dragged him into their beds but couldn’t bring him into their lives that he realized it would probably always be that way.

His science teacher had no problem fucking him in the back of her minivan when he was seventeen, but she wouldn’t look at him twice when he pumped her gas at the old fuel station up the road.

Ora Lasser loved to get on her knees for him in the hardware store’s staff bathroom, but it would be a cold day in hell before she’d give an eighteen-year-old guy her number.

And then there were the women in LA who covered their wedding ring lines with self-tanners and loved everything about him…

right up until he wanted to see them outside of the hotel room where they would hole up for a night or two.

It was in those early morning hours when he’d watched them shimmy back into their skirts that he would hear those words.

And then, like clockwork, he’d see their photos online at some premiere or banquet, always on the arms of their husbands, smiling and posing for the camera.

It stung. Every. Fucking. Time.

But this felt worse, coming from Angelina. He was so certain she was different, that she saw more in him than the others did. Or wanted to.

“River?”

She was following him down the street and he hated how attuned he was to the sound of her beaded bracelets clinking softly as she broke into a jog.

“River. Please. I don’t owe you my reasons—”

“And I didn’t ask for them,” he interrupted. “It’s fine. No worries, okay?”

Her lips pursed and he caught a slight tremble in the full bottom one. “I know you didn’t ask, but I want you to know because I don’t want you to walk away thinking it’s you. Because it’s not you. Not you you. It’s everything you bring. Or might bring. Everything and everyone.”

He crossed his arms to keep them from reaching for her.

As confused and frustrated as he was by her cryptic explanation, he hated seeing his pretty little hippie standing in the wind with her thin, knitted shawl wrapped around her bare shoulders.

“We’re not talking about this here. How about you join me at Serpent’s Tongue? Birch should be long gone by now.”

She nodded and they walked silently side by side along the empty walkway outside the strip mall until they reached the tattoo shop. He glanced around, unlocked the door, and held it open for her. “Have you ever been in here?”

“Once,” she replied as she took a few tentative steps inside and looked around. “Your brother helped me move a few heavy display shelves, so I brought him lunch.”

That little prick of jealousy rose with the thought of her feeding Birch, but even in his current mood, he could recognize the ridiculousness of it. He motioned for her to sit and he swung one of the desk chairs around, straddled it, and cocked a brow. “So?”

“So,” she echoed while she fiddled with her bracelets. “The idea of you renting the suite doesn’t bother me or worry me. It’s, well, everyone else.”

“And who is everyone else? Who do you think I’m bringing along?”

She huffed and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Friends? Your ex-wife? Crazed fans? Flings? Anyone could break through the door separating the suite from the rest of the house. I just…the thought of someone being able to come into my room at night…”

His stomach rolled. “Angel—”

“No, you need to understand…I’m not scared of you.

” Her eyes hardened. “But I can’t live like that again, barricading my bedroom door or sleeping on the floor of the bathroom with a kitchen knife.

And I will if I let you rent the suite. Rational or not, I’ll spend every night waiting for someone to come for me and I can’t do it, River. ”

He took one deep breath.

Then two.

Three.

Four.

Once he figured he had enough control over his voice to mask the rage he felt toward the nameless, faceless men who still had their claws in Angelina’s memories, he ran his hand through his hair. “And last night?”

“What about last night?”

“Did you barricade your door? Sleep with a knife?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. Like I said, it isn’t you.”

“Right,” he agreed. “It’s the hordes of fans and flings I’ll have parading through.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And friends. Parties. Bonfires. Raves. I don’t know what you’ll get up to once you aren’t sleeping on this sofa.”

He bit his lip and tried not to grin. “I take it orgies are included in your suppositions?”

The flash of anger he’d seen earlier evaporated and she nodded. “And hoedowns.”

“Of course.” All levity disappeared and he sighed.

“Angel, I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m not itching to pay off a hacker to find the names and addresses of every shitty home you were subjected to.

I’m not going to hide the fact that I’m all kinds of happy you feel safe enough to not have to barricade yourself in your room when I’m around.

And I’m not going to ask you to rent your basement out to me if it’ll give you even one sleepless night.

But would you consider it if I give you my word that no one but me will step foot in that suite? ”

Her fidgeting increased as her fingers squeezed and turned the beads on her bracelets one by one. “Would you really be okay with that?”

“Yeah, Angel. I’d really be okay with that.”

He sounded so sincere. But when didn’t he? Maybe it would be good for her to become accustomed to having another person in her space again. And who better than River? She already felt safe around him, already trusted him in her home.

If she was being honest with herself, the biggest hurdle she foresaw was simply having him in such close proximity.

Their friendly, flirty relationship was perfect as it was right now, with him and his eventual return to LA keeping him off-limits for anything serious and her being a little too damaged, a little too guarded, and a little too old for something more than friendship with him anyway.

Two flights of stairs would be the only physical barrier between them and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Was he contemplating his own self-control or was he completely confident in his ability to remain platonic?

“Angel?”

She blinked, snapping back into the moment. “Right. Yes. Sorry.” She extended her hand and smiled. “Welcome to Casa Watson, roomie. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

His brows lifted and his lip quirked up as he looked down at her hand before shaking it. “I’m sure I will, roomie.”