37. Sarah
Teddy’s quiet chuckle behind me draws me away from Moose more than anything else, and I turn to see Sam nuzzling against his hair.
Teddy’s eyes are closed, and it’s unclear if he was laughing at my situation or if he’s just a bit ticklish.
He never seemed that way before, but even though he’s my bestie, we didn’t touch often.
His eyes pop open—almost like he can feel me staring at him—but he just looks happy to be wrapped up by his alpha.
He has a small smile and he looks content.
It makes me so happy that he found this, but also sad, because I don’t know if I ever will.
My gaze wanders back to the tableau in front of me: Moose, still covering his face like he wants to disappear.
Paul speaking quietly to him, rubbing his hand over the bigger man’s raised arm.
And the smallest of the three…the one I haven’t really met yet, glaring at me like he just stepped in dog shit.
Oh, he’s the fun one then.
Not.
What a jackass.
Now I just have to annoy him.
It’s like an unwritten rule.
Trying to act like I don’t see the other two, I hold my hand out to the smallest alpha I’ve ever met.
Handshakes are a pretty universal gesture, but the way he looks at my palm, you’d think I was trying to hand the guy a dead rat.
Still, I press on. “Hey, sorry about that. Like I said before, I’m Sarah and this is Greg.
I apologize, I’m not great with people. You’re Moose’s—”
His voice is harsh as he cuts me off. “Fucking hell, woman! I am not an omega!” His outburst is a bit shocking and super off-putting. Nobody likes a random stranger screaming at them—even if I was purposely trying to irritate him.
It takes all of my considerable willpower not to rear back and knock the shit out of this guy.
“I was going to say ‘packmate.’ You don’t smell like an omega, you smell like roasted pecans.
” The look in his eyes is speculative. “It reminds me of my grandparents’ orchard.
Why the fuck would anybody think you were an omega?
” He huffs out a loud breath, but I refuse to admit that it’s exactly what I was thinking a few minutes earlier.
“Well, isn’t that convenient? Your grandparents grow pecans, huh?
So, you just happen to know what they smell like?
Yeah, right. There are pecan orchards in the state, but that sounds a bit convenient.
” Moose is glaring at the smaller alpha, and my mind is starting to connect the dots.
People usually think that this guy is Spencer’s omega?
I’m not surprised, since I did at first. But he doesn’t seem to have a sweet bone in his body right now, let alone the scent that gives us away so quickly.
On that note, why did the thought of him having an omega make my stomach twist?
He isn’t my alpha. I have an alpha; he’s waiting for me back in Los Angeles.
At least, I think he is. I hope he is. These guys seem nice, sort of, but I shouldn’t let the fluttery feelings get in the way of the scent match I know I have.
He’s supposed to be mine, and while Moose, at least, is fucking cute as hell, I’m not gonna cheat on my alpha.
But are we even really together? He hasn’t really claimed me, and he’s only visited me a couple of times since we met.
Now my stomach is churning with a different feeling, and I don’t like it.
The three alphas are all staring at me now, and I’m sure my strawberry shortcake scent has gone sour and unpleasant with my thoughts.
I don’t know these guys from Adam…strike that, I know an Adam, and he’s a sweetheart.
I don’t know these guys for shit. My chuckle slips free at the internal joke, and now I look like I’m talking to myself.
I mean, I am, but fuck anybody who judges that.
Right, act normal. I.e., not like you’re having an emotional crisis over an alpha who should be your everything in front of three guys you just met.
I plaster a fake smile on as Greg kisses the top of my head, offering support just by being here.
My voice is mostly steady when I address the group.
“Mi tio…er, my uncle Miguel, my mom’s brother, runs it now.
But I think that since my grandparents retired, it belongs to all my aunts and uncles.
Several of them work there with him, though not Mom since she’s in L.A.
with my dads. But we visit them for Christmas every year.
It was right around harvest season, so we brought back big bags of pecans.
My abuela makes the best pecan pie ever, but mis abuelos would…
sorry, my grandpas would also roast or candy them to put in our stockings.
It was one of my favorite treats growing up.
I’m not normally a huge fan of sweet stuff, but those…
Dammit, now I want a fucking praline. Teddy, please tell me there’s a fucking Ben and Jerry’s or something in this godforsaken town. ”
They’re all staring at me now when I turn to my best friend, except for Greg, who’s trying to hide his laughter.
He’s been around long enough; he knows I can go on long-winded rants without stopping for breath.
Moose looks kind of gobsmacked and dopey—so at least he’s not sad anymore.
The little one looks thoughtful, and the older blond is shaking his head, hand over his mouth.
Shit, what did I do?
For fuck’s sake, think!
My voice is shaky with embarrassment. “So, yeah, obviously not an omega, my dude. So, what is your preferred name? Because I’m pretty sure you aren’t gonna be happy if I slip and call you ‘the short alpha’ while speaking…
like that…I didn’t mean to say that. Can you just…
fuck my life. Let’s try it this way. Fill in the blank here, Big Moose’s packmates are Paul and…
” I wave my hand in a go-on gesture and Paul is actively trying not to laugh at this point.
So at least I managed to get everyone else to forget about the purring earlier.
The surly little shit extends his own hand, finally, and grasps my fingers.
His face looks like he’s touching something slimy.
His voice is quiet and cultured, and my brain spins, trying to figure out how he ended up in a pack with the big, boisterous Moose and his quieter, but still seemingly pleasant, almost brother.
“Alistair...to everyone but Spencer here…the gentleman you keep calling Moose. Or Professor Miller to my students.” He drops my hand like it’s scalded him, and his fingers twitch as if he wants to wipe them off on his pants.
This asshole.
Ugh…did they tell me Moose’s name was really Spencer? Spence?
No, I think it was said around me, but never actually introduced.
Eh, doesn’t matter. He looks like Moose, and he didn’t correct me, so I’m going with it.
“So, Moose.” I stare pointedly at Alistair for emphasis.
“What’cha pillow shopping for? Surely three alphas don’t need a nest unless…
wait? No kink-shaming, but is this a roleplay thing?
Which one of you pretends to be the omega?
OH MY GOD! Please tell me it’s Moose! Not that there’s anything wrong with taking it up the ass, I mean…
” I wave vaguely to Teddy for emphasis, and he snorts back a laugh in return.
“But seriously, if size is, um, indicative…well, I don’t think either one of you is going to be on the receiving end of that.
” I nod towards the giant alpha, who snatches a pillow off the shelf near his shoulder and starts breathing heavily into it.
I’m not sure if that was a scream of frustration or what, but maybe I should stop before I embarrass them.
Most omegas are pretty open about our sexuality, but maybe it doesn’t come as easily for alphas.
Or it could be a Southern thing. Oh, Moose said that Short Stack there used to be his professor, so maybe they have to keep it on the downlow if it’s a forbidden relationship sort of situation.
I like that idea…though he did use the past tense, so it would be fine now.
My mind whirls with possibilities, and I won’t lie to myself that the idea of these three all tangled up, sweaty and passionate, isn’t appealing.
I bet Alistair is the dominant type in bed and likes giving instructions to the bigger two.
Oh yeah. I’d like to see that.
Is Moose more of a bottom?
He’s so big, but I love the mental images I’m getting right now.
Greg shakes my shoulder, drawing me out of my fantasy, and I raise my hand to pat his in reply.
If I surreptitiously make an effort to wipe off any stray drool, no one says anything—well, that’s the point of being surreptitious.
My beta’s voice is a low rumble against my back.
“Well, if Sarah can shake herself out of whatever fantasy she’s wandered into. ”
Asshole.
“It’s time we went and found her some new pillows and blankets. We’re looking for some stuff for her nest back home. We just have to make sure they can ship everything or we can mail it back from Sam’s when we leave. It all kind of depends on what’s in stock, and how far away they’ll deliver.”
Paul’s voice pipes up. “Oh, where are y’all from anyway? Are you out here from the omega center in Los Angeles where Teddy came from?” He eyes us with a new hint of interest that is slightly puzzling.
I nod along while Greg gives an affirmative, “Yup,” behind me, and now Moose is looking at me intently. His eyes go wide, and you can practically see the lightbulb pop into existence over his head.
“Holy shit! Er…shoot?” His head goes up, and he looks around like a meerkat for a moment.
“You’re Teddy’s friend.” Yes, thank you, we’ve established that.
“I mean, I mean the one from Los Angeles.” Once again, yes, we just confirmed that fact, but he continues.
“The one who yelled at Steve last year and threatened to cut off his—” Paul’s hand slaps down over Moose’s mouth with a loud clapping noise.
It doesn’t seem to hurt the bigger man. He keeps mumbling over the muffle for a few beats before casting an irritated side eye over at his packmate.
Then it dawns on me: I’ve talked to this guy before, or at least heard his voice. Last year, when I snatched Teddy’s phone and started yelling at Steve.
Oh shit.
Turning slowly, I look for Teddy behind me, worried he’s going to be mad at me again.
Thankfully, he and Sam are mostly giving me mildly annoyed looks.
I did apologize, and while I don’t want either of them upset with me, I stand by what I said.
I will start lopping pieces off that little shit of an alpha if he hurts Teddy again.
They must have worked out their differences.
Maybe something happened that I don’t know about, but what Steve and Garret did was un-fucking-forgivable, so that little bitch better have learned to grovel in the ten years they were apart.
My breath comes out in a huff as I drop eye contact with my best friend and turn back to the pack in front of me.
“Yeah. Um, yeah, that was me. I might remember hearing your voice. Honestly, the whole thing was kind of a blur of running and screaming and trying to sabotage myself. You know how it is.” Passing it off as flippant doesn’t seem to have the desired effect, and all three alphas are staring at me now like I’ve grown a second head, and it’s singing show tunes.
Not that I don’t enjoy a good show tune…
I might be getting tired. My head suddenly feels a little fuzzy.
It could be delayed jetlag, but that wouldn’t explain why I’m suddenly so hot.
Ah…shit.
My body curls in on itself as I get a sudden strong whiff of my own perfume, and Greg’s arms tighten around me.
His hands rub up and down my arms. “Hey, Sarah, you want me to call the hotel? Get checked in for the heat suite?” There’s a slight tremor moving through his palms as they slide over my skin.
Is he nervous about my heat? It shouldn’t be starting yet, this is probably just a little spike. Or I’m just tired.
Spinning to bury my face in his neck, I start huffing in his comforting scent, but also get hints of the three guys behind me—a warm whiskey oak from Paul, that smokey roasted pecan from Alistair, and leather and grass from Moose.
I bet he played football in high school and college.
His scent reminds me of playing football with my brothers when we were kids.
Not that they would play for real with me and Scarlet; we were both a lot smaller.
We usually got stuck being refs, but when you have that many alpha brothers and cousins…
well, let’s just say there were enough of us to form at least one professional team.
Of course, that was before my designation came in, and Mamá said that omegas were too fragile to play contact sports.
I burrow deeper against Greg, needing the calm and comfort I get from him.
I’m so tired. One big hand slides down my back, pressing me against his chest. “Come on, Spitfire, we’re gonna get you outside into some fresh air to start.
Then you can tell me how you’re feelin’.
Sam can drop us at the hotel if we need to head over there.
Don’t you worry, we’ll figure this out.” My head spins, and everything shifts sideways as he picks me up then turns and starts walking out of the store.
Looking over his shoulder, I see Moose and his packmates staring after me.
The big guy looks sad, like he doesn’t want me to go.
It feels weird to think of him as Spencer instead of Moose.
Alistair—oh, sorry, Professor Miller—is staring intently after me before turning his attention back to Spence.
The other blond, Paul, is watching me speculatively.
His hand raises, then drops down onto Spencer’s shoulder, rubbing firm, calming circles there, before finally turning and saying something.
We’re far enough away that I can’t hear it, but Spencer’s breath hitches in a heavy sigh.