Chapter 21 Pets, Packages, And Fashion Disasters
Pets, Packages, And Fashion Disasters
~HAZEL~
My apartment has become Grand Central Station for chaos, and apparently, everyone got the memo except me.
"Camera here covers the front entry," the lead guy—Tank, because of course that's his name—explains to Rowan, who's supervising like this is a military operation. "Motion-activated, night vision, sends alerts directly to all registered phones."
"Good. What about the back entrance?"
"Two cameras, overlapping fields. Nothing gets past without being seen from multiple angles."
Nothing gets past. Like I'm Fort Knox instead of a bakery run by an emotionally unstable Omega who cried over burnt cookies yesterday.
I'm stress-cleaning my already clean kitchen when I hear carriers being hauled up the stairs. Not just packages—pet carriers, from the distinctive yowling coming from within.
Levi and Luca appear in my doorway, each holding a carrier and looking far too pleased with themselves.
"Surprise!" Levi announces, setting his carrier down gently. "Since we're staying here and the ranch is down to essential staff only, we figured the cats should meet!"
"Cats?" I stare at the carriers. "Plural?"
"This is Biscuit," Levi says proudly, opening his carrier to reveal an orange tabby who immediately bounds out like he's been shot from a cannon. "He has my enthusiasm for life."
The cat proves this by immediately launching himself onto my counter, knocking over a jar of flour that explodes in a white cloud.
"And this," Luca says, releasing a sleek black cat who emerges with careful dignity, "is Whiskey. He's more... observant."
Whiskey surveys my apartment like he's cataloguing exits and calculating the value of everything for resale. His yellow eyes find Muffin, who's been watching from her perch with the kind of disdain usually reserved for tax auditors.
"You brought your cats to meet my cat without warning?"
"Surprise pet playdate!" Levi says, like this explains everything.
Before I can respond, Rowan arrives with—
"Is that Ember?"
The golden retriever bounds in, tail wagging with enough force to be classified as a weapon. She spots the cats and freezes, entire body quivering with the desire to either play or eat them—with dogs, it's hard to tell.
"Figured if we're doing pet introductions..." Rowan shrugs, but he's watching Muffin carefully.
What follows is fifteen minutes of complete animal chaos.
Biscuit, living up to Levi's legacy, immediately tries to make friends with everyone by aggressively rubbing against them.
Whiskey finds the highest point in the room—my kitchen cabinets—and surveys his new kingdom with imperial disdain.
Muffin hisses at everyone on principle. And Ember runs circles around them all, barking with joy because FRIENDS! NEW FRIENDS! CAT FRIENDS!
"This is a disaster," I mutter, flour still settling in my hair from Biscuit's counter adventure.
"This is bonding," Levi corrects, filming the chaos on his phone. "Look, Whiskey's already claimed territory. That's trust!"
"That's my spice rack he's sitting on."
"Trustfully sitting on your spice rack."
A knock interrupts whatever argument we're about to have.
"IT'S ME! OPEN UP BEFORE I DROP EVERYTHING!"
Reverie's voice carries through the door, and when I open it, she's standing there with enough shopping bags to stock a small boutique.
She takes in the scene—security team drilling, cats in various states of territorial dispute, Ember now trying to play with Muffin, who's having none of it—and whistles.
"Should've brought my husky. Really complete the chaos. Though she's pure madness, she would've turned this into a full zoo."
"Why do you have—" I gesture at the bags.
"brAND DEAL!" She spins, bags flying dangerously. "Starting November, I'm doing a holiday vlog series! 'Total Holidays in the Small Town' featuring yours truly as a badass Omega navigating seasonal romance!"
"That's amazing—"
"There's a catch." She sets the bags down, finally. "The contract mentions needing a pack for some segments. You know, with the new laws about Omega protection in the media. But whatever! My Knotty Christmas Wish is to find some Alphas and force them to do Vlogmas with me!"
She spins again, nearly taking out a security camera with her enthusiasm.
"Which is why I got all these clothes! Samples, gifts, more than any human needs. And hoarding makes me a hot mess, so you're trying them on!"
"Reverie, I can't—"
"You can and will!" She spins toward the door. "Let me grab the second batch—"
The crash is spectacular.
Reverie, mid-spin, collides with what can only be described as a wall of Alpha. He's massive—taller even than Rowan, covered in tattoos that peek from under his leather jacket, with the kind of dangerous beauty that usually requires a warning label.
They freeze, her looking up at him with wide eyes, him looking down with an expression caught between amusement and interest.
"You look," Reverie says slowly, "like a bad boy who jumped out of a steamy omegaverse novel trying to win the good girl."
His smirk is pure sin. "I'll take that as a compliment. Though I'm actually here to deliver furniture. Covering for my older brother—caught a seasonal cold."
"You're a delivery driver?"
"Part-time. Full-time, I restore motorcycles."
"Motorcycles?!" Reverie looks personally offended. "It's almost winter! You can't be driving those!"
"That's what snowmobiles are for, princess."
"Snowmobiles. Of course. You're like a page of sins with a vehicle collection."
I laugh, but it dies when I notice my three Alphas have gone still, watching this interaction with the kind of focus usually reserved for threats. The air gets thick with territorial pheromones—cedar and honey and gingerbread creating a wall of ours.
"Nash," the new Alpha says, extending a hand to me while very carefully not looking at Reverie again. "Just need someone to sign for the delivery."
"What delivery?" I start forward, but Rowan steps in front of me, practically vibrating with jealousy.
"I'll sign."
"Actually," Nash says, checking his tablet, "it's the premium bedroom set and the... Cloud Couch 3000?"
"That was fast," Levi says innocently.
"Surprisingly fast," Luca agrees.
"Almost like someone paid for express delivery," Rowan adds.
They all look at me with expressions of pure innocence that fool exactly no one.
"You bought me furniture?"
"You needed a comfortable couch," Levi says.
"And a bed that fits..." Luca trails off, suddenly very interested in the ceiling.
"When our Omega needs comfort, we provide," Rowan states, like this is pack law.
Nash looks between all of us with barely concealed amusement. "The express fee was impressive. You guys must really want your... Omega... comfortable."
The way he says Omega makes all three of them bristle.
"Right then!" Reverie grabs her bags, clearly sensing the testosterone levels reaching critical mass. "I'll get out of your way so you can get frisky!"
"That's not—we're not—" My face burns.
"Try on the outfits! Send photos! Make sure they fit!" She's already backing toward the door. "Some are fancy, some casual, all gorgeous like you!"
She pauses by Nash. "Stay out of trouble, bad boy. And off the roads."
"No promises, princess."
She flees with a laugh, leaving me with three territorial Alphas, one amused delivery guy, and furniture I didn't ask for but desperately need.
The delivery process is tense. Nash and his team—because apparently premium furniture requires a team—bring in a couch that looks like clouds made solid and a bedroom set that definitely cost more than my car.
My Alphas hover, making sure Nash doesn't get within three feet of me, their scents creating such a thick territorial wall that even Tank the security guy comments on it.
"Strong pack bonds," he observes. "Good for protection."
"The strongest," Rowan confirms, not taking his eyes off Nash.
Finally, the delivery team leaves, Nash throwing a wink that's probably meant for Reverie but makes Levi growl anyway.
The moment the door closes, all three Alphas deflate like punctured balloons.
"That was subtle," I say dryly.
"He was flirting," Rowan grumbles.
"With Reverie!"
"In your space," Luca corrects. "That's disrespectful."
"That's called doing his job."
"Suspiciously well," Levi mutters, but then he flops onto the new couch and moans. "Oh my god, this is amazing. It's like sitting on happiness."
Luca joins him, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. "Worth every penny."
Rowan sits more carefully, but even he can't hide the relief as the couch accepts his weight without protesting.
"You bought me a cloud couch," I say, still processing. "And a bedroom set."
"You were worried about our backs," Levi explains. "And mentioned wanting a better bed."
"So you just... bought them?"
"Problem-solving," Luca says simply.
I stand there, overwhelmed by the casual way they've spent probably thousands of dollars to make me comfortable. The pets have settled into wary coexistence—Whiskey on his cabinet throne, Biscuit exploring, Muffin pretending everyone doesn't exist, and Ember passed out from excitement.
"I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll try on Reverie's clothes," Levi suggests with a grin. "Fashion show!"
"What?"
"You mentioned it before she left," Rowan reminds me, and is he blushing?
Oh god, I did. I suggested a private fashion show. Like some kind of... what was I thinking?
"That's not—I didn't mean—"
"We could help with photos," Luca offers, voice carefully neutral. "For Reverie. Documentation."
"A nice activity before dinner," Levi adds, waggling his eyebrows.
My face is nuclear. "I wasn't suggesting—I mean, not like, naked or anything—"
"Hazel." Luca stands, crosses to me in two strides, and before I can panic, he's scooped me up, arms secure around my waist. "We would love to see you try on clothes. Fully clothed. No pressure. Just... fun."
"Fun," I repeat weakly.
"When's the last time you did something just for fun?" Rowan asks gently.
Fun. When did I last have fun? Before Korrin. Before marriage. Before I learned that wanting things led to disappointment.
"Okay," I whisper.
"Okay?"
"Fashion show. But if any of those clothes are ridiculous, you're not allowed to laugh."
"Deal," they say in unison.
Luca sets me down gently, and I gather the bags, heading to my bedroom with legs that feel like jelly.
Private fashion show. For my Alphas. In clothes Reverie picked, which means they're probably gorgeous and completely impractical.
Through the door, I hear them settling on the new couch, discussing dinner plans, and making sure the pets aren't destroying anything.
Domestic. Normal. Like this is our life now—they're in my space, caring for me, buying me furniture, and waiting to watch me model clothes like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I pull out the first outfit—a sweater dress in burgundy that looks soft as sin—and think maybe this is what healing looks like. Not grand gestures, but small moments of trust. Of fun. Of letting myself be cared for without waiting for the catch.
"Ready?" Levi calls through the door.
"Give me a minute! This has complicated straps!"
"Take your time, sunshine. We've got all night."
All night. With my Alphas. In my apartment that now has their cats and their scents and their furniture.
I slip into the dress, look at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, I look... happy. Flushed and nervous but genuinely happy.
"Okay," I call, hand on the doorknob. "Ready."
Their collective intake of breath when I walk out makes everything—the chaos, the expense, the vulnerability—worth it.
"Photos," Luca says roughly. "We should... photos. For Reverie."
"Right," Rowan agrees, but his amber eyes haven't left my legs. "Documentation."
"Very important documentation," Levi adds, already pulling out his phone with hands that shake slightly.
I do a little spin, the dress flaring perfectly, and all three of them make sounds that are definitely not appropriate for documentation purposes.
"This is going to be a long night," Rowan mutters.
"The best night," Levi corrects.
"Dinner can wait," Luca decides.
And as I head back to try on outfit number two, listening to them debate camera angles with the seriousness of art critics, I think maybe—just maybe—I'm ready for this. For them. For us.
For fun.
Who knew fashion shows could be foreplay?