The Flavor of Us (Beta Accepted)

22. TATI

Chapter twenty-two

TATI

Walking hand in hand with Carleen feels like breathing after holding my breath for too long. Her palm is warm against mine, like she’s holding me and anchoring me at the same time.

It’s been hours since we left the apartment—hours of weaving through farmer's markets and boutique grocery stores, filling our baskets with fresh vegetables, cheeses, spices, and things I can’t even pronounce but Ryder insists are essential .

The banter flows easily between the four of us. Ashton, with his ridiculous charm and ever-present grin, keeps calling me little doe. Every time he does it, my face heats up, and Carleen gives him the look —that sharp, narrow-eyed warning that should send lesser men running. But Ashton just laughs, flashing those dimples like they’re weapons of mass destruction.

“Careful, little doe,” he purrs, leaning down close enough that his breath tickles my ear. “Keep looking at me like that and Carleen’s going to have to drag me out of here by the scruff of my neck.”

I squeak, swatting at him as he saunters off to grab another bundle of something green and leafy.

Meanwhile, Ryder has appointed himself pillow scout. At every stall, every shop, he finds a pillow, holds it up, and tilts his head slightly. “This one, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice all low gravel and honey.

Every single time, I’m blushing and stammering like a mess, and every single time, he smiles like he’s proud of himself.

Carleen, though… she’s right here. Her hand stays wrapped around mine, her thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles into the back of my hand. She doesn’t stray far, and if Ashton or Ryder get a little too bold with their flirting, she tugs me close to her side with a look that says, mine.

And yeah, it makes me feel all soft and gooey inside.

It’s easy. It’s so easy.

I’ve always dreamed about this—walking through aisles with a pack, laughing and arguing about ingredients, holding hands with someone who looks at me like I’m their whole world. But even as I bask in the warmth of this little daydream turned reality, I know we’re not done yet. Because the real mission of today—the best part—is still coming.

I wait until our bags are full, until Carleen’s shoulders have finally started to drop, and Ashton and Ryder look ready to follow me anywhere. Then I drop the bombshell.

“We’re going to Francine’s for lunch,” I announce, planting my hands on my hips.

Carleen freezes mid-step, her brows pulling together in confusion. “Francine’s? The burger place? Tati, that’s—”

“One of the sloppiest, greasiest, messiest places in the city,” I finish for her, grinning ear to ear. “Exactly. That’s the point. ”

Ashton’s grin spreads wide across his face, and he claps his hands together. “Oh, I love this plan.”

Ryder hums in approval, his lips twitching into a rare smile. “Can’t say no to a good burger.”

Carleen lets out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s deeply, deeply regretting every decision that led her to this moment. “Please tell me they at least have napkins,” she mutters.

I reach up and pat her cheek lightly, grinning. “They’ve got napkins, Leenie. They bathe in napkins.”

Carleen gives me a flat look at using the childhood name only reserved for Ellie, but there’s a flicker of amusement in her brown eyes. “Fine. But if Ashton gets ketchup on my shirt, I’m taking it out on his hide.”

Ashton gasps, clutching his chest in mock horror. “Carleen, you wound me.”

Ryder smirks, already walking ahead of us, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Carleen looks down at me, her lips twitching as if she’s trying not to smile.

“This better be worth it, Tati,” she says, her voice low and warm.

I squeeze her hand tightly, tilting my head up to meet her gaze. “It will be. I promise.”

Francine’s is chaos. The greasy scent of sizzling burgers, melted cheese, and frying oil clings to the air like a second skin. There’s chatter everywhere, the kind that bounces off the walls and makes everything feel a little too loud but perfectly alive.

And then there’s us.

Crammed into a tiny booth in the far corner, looking so painfully out of place that it’s almost comical. Carleen is horrified. I can see it in the tight line of her jaw, the way her hands grip the edge of the table like she’s preparing for battle. Ryder, calm and steady as always, slides in beside her, one of his broad arms resting casually on the back of the booth. Ashton pulls me into his side, draping one arm across my shoulders like I’m something precious, and yeah… my heart does a little somersault at the feeling.

Carleen’s eyes flick between all three of us, and I swear I can see her mentally calculating the odds of survival in this grease-and-chaos-filled arena.

“This is…” she starts, her voice tight as she stares down at the laminated menu, “…not what I was expecting.”

Ashton snorts beside me, his grin wicked. “Come on, darling, live a little. No tiny portions. No tweezers. Just good old-fashioned messy food.”

Ryder hums in agreement, his lips twitching as he leans slightly closer to Carleen. “It’ll be good for you, Carleen. Promise.”

I bite my lip to keep from giggling at the look she shoots Ryder, like he’s personally offended her chef sensibilities. But then—then she leans into his touch, just slightly, just enough for me to notice. And my heart does another somersault because it’s fucking perfect .

I grin up at Ryder, my eyes sparkling with mischief. “Don’t worry, Ryder. I’ve got her covered.”

Carleen raises a brow at me. “What do you mean by that, Tati?”

I snatch up a menu and flip it open dramatically, scanning the greasy, delicious options. “It means I’m ordering for you. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

Ashton presses a loud, exaggerated kiss to my cheek and I burst into giggles as Carleen rolls her eyes with a long-suffering sigh. “Why are you like this?” Carleen asks, her voice flat but her lips twitching slightly like she’s fighting a smile.

“Because you love us,” Ashton says, grinning like he’s won the lottery.

Carleen pinches the bridge of her nose, muttering something about disasters, but she doesn’t argue. The server comes by—a bored-looking teenager with a visor that looks two sizes too big—and I order with confidence. “Two double-stacked bacon cheeseburgers, chili fries, onion rings, and a strawberry milkshake for her.” I point to Carleen proudly.

The server blinks, scribbles something down, and moves on like it’s totally normal for a Beta to order for her intimidating Alpha girlfriend in front of two towering, unfairly attractive Alphas. When the server walks away, Carleen stares at me, her brows raised so high I’m genuinely worried they might get stuck like that. “A strawberry milkshake?” she asks flatly.

“Trust the process, Alpha,” I say sweetly, fluttering my lashes at her.

Ashton leans into me, his face buried against my neck as he lets out a muffled snort. Carleen narrows her eyes at us both, and Ryder—ever the composed one—just shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “You two are torturing me on purpose,” Carleen mutters.

“Oh, absolutely,” Ashton says without hesitation.

The food arrives about fifteen minutes later, and the smell alone is enough to make my mouth water. Plates are practically piled onto the table—burgers stacked high, fries dripping in chili and cheese, golden onion rings glistening under the fluorescent lights.

And then there’s Carleen.

She’s staring at her burger like it personally offended her. In one hand, she holds a fork. In the other, a knife.

A fork and knife. At Francine’s.

“Ashton,” I whisper, nudging him slightly.

Before either of us can intervene, Ryder swoops in like the silent menace he is. With one smooth motion, he reaches over and plucks the fork and knife straight out of Carleen’s hands, setting them carefully to the side.

“Try it the way you used to when you were a kid,” he says softly, his deep voice practically dripping with amusement.

Carleen’s mouth opens—then closes—then opens again. For a moment, she looks like she might argue, but then… she exhales sharply. Her hands move slowly as she picks up the burger, her fingers sinking slightly into the bun, sauce already threatening to drip onto her fingers. She hesitates.

“Come on, darling,” Ashton says, his voice low, coaxing. “Just one bite.”

I watch her carefully, holding my breath as she finally leans down and takes a bite.

The sauce drips onto her fingers, cheese stretches from her lips to the burger, and for a second, Carleen looks so scandalized that I can’t stop myself from giggling. But then she closes her eyes, lets out a soft hum of approval, and her shoulders drop. “This is ridiculous,” she mutters after swallowing.

I beam at her, practically glowing with pride. “But is it good ridiculous?”

Carleen narrows her eyes at me, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yes, Tati. It’s good ridiculous.”

Ashton claps his hands once. “Mission accomplished!”

A few more bites in and Carleen is smiling.

Not her usual tight-lipped, composed, everything-is-under-control smile. No, this one is soft and real , stretched wide across her face as she takes another messy bite of her burger. There’s sauce smeared across the corner of her mouth, and cheese is threatening to slide down her chin, but she doesn’t care.

She’s laughing softly at something Ryder said, her shoulders finally loose, her brown eyes sparkling in a way I’ve never seen before. I feel like I’m witnessing something sacred. Like I’m peeking behind the curtain and seeing the Carleen who exists when no one’s watching—the Carleen who doesn’t have to be Alpha all the time.

It’s messy. It’s chaotic.

And it’s perfect.

She reaches for a napkin, her fingers already smudged with sauce, but Ryder stops her with one big hand wrapping gently around her wrist.

“May I?” he asks softly, his deep voice smooth, like he’s asking for something far more intimate than wiping ketchup off her lips.

Carleen hesitates, her brown eyes flicking up to his face before she nods and Ryder leans in. He cups her jaw with one hand, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek as he tilts her face up. Then he leans down and kisses her—soft, slow, deliberate. I can feel the way Carleen melts into it, the way her shoulders drop just a little more, the way her hand comes up to lightly grip Ryder’s wrist.

It’s not just a kiss—it’s trust. It’s surrender. It’s her letting him in, letting him see her when she’s vulnerable. I hum softly, the sound escaping before I can stop it. My body feels warm all over, my chest tight with something I can’t quite name. Ashton, who’s been quietly watching the scene unfold beside me, presses a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering there for a moment before he speaks.

“They look pretty together, don’t they, little doe?” he murmurs against my skin.

I nod, my voice catching in my throat. “Yeah, they really do.”

Ashton tilts his head slightly, his brown eyes locking onto mine, filled with something soft and knowing. “Almost as pretty as you,” he says softly before leaning in and capturing my lips in a kiss of his own.

When we pull back, Ryder and Carleen are both watching us. Carleen’s face is flushed, her lips still slightly parted from her kiss with Ryder. Ryder’s gaze flicks between Ashton and me, a slow smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

There’s a beat of silence—a pause in the chaos of the diner, like the four of us are wrapped in a bubble, a space carved out just for us.

But then—my stomach growls.

Loudly.

Ashton throws his head back and laughs, this deep, full-bodied sound that makes my cheeks heat up instantly. Carleen raises a brow at me, her lips twitching in amusement.

“Alright, alright,” I mutter, grabbing my sandwich. “I’m eating, okay?”

I take a big, messy bite, sauce dripping onto my fingers as I hum in satisfaction. Ashton nudges me with his elbow, his grin still wide as he picks up a fry and pops it into his mouth. “Good girl,” he teases, his voice dropping slightly on the last word.

I glare at him, cheeks full of burger, but it’s pointless because my face is already flushed, and Ashton knows what he’s doing.

Ryder snorts softly, shaking his head as he picks at the onion rings in front of him, Carleen continuing what’s left of her burger. She even approves of her strawberry shake, although she tries to hide how much she truly loves it. I already know she’s planning a way to remake it at home.

Ashton teases me relentlessly, sneaking fries off my plate whenever I’m not looking and calling me little doe with that stupid, playful grin on his face. This isn’t some grand romantic moment. It’s not candlelit dinners or whispered confessions under moonlight.

It’s greasy burgers and sticky fingers. It’s loud chatter and stolen glances. It’s us.

And somehow, it feels more perfect than anything else ever could.