The Alpha’s Fated Choice (Alpha's Fated Encounter Trilogy #1)

A smile blooms on his face, and instead of answering my question, he says, “Excellent. I’ll pick you up around one.”

“Pick me up for what?”

He doesn’t respond, just puts the little box down on the bar. It has four tiny, beautiful tarts in it.

“Here. I got these for you.”

As he leaves, I follow him with my gaze, confused. What is this obsession with constantly feeding me?

“The Alpha Successor is courting you.” The drunkard who was engrossed in his phone is now watching me.

“Courting me? What are you talking about?”

The inebriated shifter leans back in his chair and burps. “He’s feeding you, isn’t he? And rumor around town is that he’s been looking out for you. He’s courting you, trying to show your wolf that he’s a good candidate to be your mate. Not that it matters. You don’t even have a wolf! Why would anybody want you, much less the Alpha Successor? And yet he does. Foolish boy.”

I’m very accustomed to harsh words like these, and they slide right off my back. However, the rest of what he said has me tensing up.

Noah is courting me? Is that why he’s trying to spend so much time with me? And constantly giving me all these gifts of food?

Our conversation from this afternoon comes roaring back to me. He asked me to show him around town. I thought maybe he was curious about somewhere in particular. I didn’t realize he was asking me out on a date. But I could be wrong.

“I doubt it, Mr. Shelby,” I reply to the man, finding the entire idea ludicrous. “Why would Noah be interested in me? He has much better options.”

The man gestures vaguely with his arms as he gets to his feet. “I agree. Anyway, I’ll be going now.”

“Take Donald with you.” I nod toward the unconscious man sprawled in his seat.

Good-naturedly, Mr. Shelby says loudly, “Come on, Donald. We know when we’re not wanted.”

He grabs the drunk man by the back of his shirt and tosses him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Lifting his free hand to wave goodbye, he stumbles outside. The door closes behind them, but I’m no longer watching. My attention is on the small box of tarts.

I don’t know how to feel about this.

“This is so unreal,” I murmur to myself, shaken.

“What is?”

I nearly jump out of my skin. When I look in the direction of Alex’s voice, I see him standing by the door.

“We’re closed.”

He points to the bar’s hours of operation, which are painted on the glass door. “This says you’re open.”

I give him a hard look. “The kitchen is closed, and so is the bar. Therefore, unless you’re here to mop the floor with me, we are closed.”

He tucks his hands in his pockets and approaches me. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” I cover the box of tarts with my hands and slide it toward me. “A gift.”

I don’t miss the flicker of anger in his eyes. “A gift? Is it from the Alpha Successor who’s panting after you?”

I’m about to deny it when something stops me. “Why do you care?”

Alex stares at me. “Excuse me?”

“Why do you care if he’s panting after me?” I demand. “Do you think just because you don’t want me, nobody else should, either?”

I put the box of tarts under the bar and walk around it, using the go-between, so I can wipe down the remaining two tables.