Chapter 15
chapter
fifteen
“I’ve gotta give it to you, cabrón ,” Dante grunts, hefting three stacked boxes into his bare arms. “Of all the shit you’ve gotten us into, I’m pretty sure this takes the cake.”
Colt growls in frustration, slinging an Ikea bag full of clothes over his good shoulder and balancing the weight on his back before reaching for his crutches. “Dante, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear I’ll break your leg with one of these.”
He shakes his crutch at our packmate and starts the arduous path up the walkway to Bridget’s front door. Adrian’s there, standing just inside the foyer with his phone pressed to one ear and a sheaf of papers from the movers in his other hand.
He hired guys to get all of our stuff packed and carted over here, but he wants us to carry everything in ourselves. To keep other alphas’ scents out of our fiancée’s personal space.
It’s the sort of thing that never would have occurred to me. Another way I would have accidentally hurt Bridget without even noticing.
The last few days have given me plenty of time to add up my other offenses. And, basically? The bouquet of flowers tucked under my arm and the box of donuts in my hands are nowhere near an adequate apology.
Have to start somewhere, I remind myself, following Colt inside.
The tiny house really isn’t built for big alphas—let alone four of us.
Adrian backs into the closet door opposite the entrance, still speaking into his phone.
Colt takes a sharp right, heading for the house’s one functional bedroom.
Bridget promised she would find a second dresser for the four of us to share, and I see that she did—another modern piece, painted the same shade of lavender as hers.
They’re crammed side-by-side against the far wall, but she’s made it work. The room is pretty big—for one person. Dressed in various shades of purple and pink, the theme seems to be… bows? Of every shape and size.
They’re all over her curtains and the puffy blush duvet. After a second, I realize it’s all homemade; hand-tied ribbons she’s sewn onto her things to give the space more color and dimension.
This whole house feels similar, actually.
It’s full of tight fits and awkward spaces, but she charmed each of them with cheerful paint and bright decor.
Her too-small refrigerator nook? Fits a made-to-look-vintage pink Smeg perfectly.
The back porch that slopes to the left? Obviously perfectly built for a hammock to hang low on that side.
An awkward nook beside the front door? Perfect for the weird skinny bookcase full of… penises?
Yep. Dozens of them.
Does she collect those?
Should that turn me on?
Across the street, a flare catches my eye. The sunlight, reflecting on a camera lens. The photographers think they’re hidden behind a neighbor’s SUV, but I catch another flash before I sigh.
“Bridget?” I ask Adrian, mouthing the word and holding up my peace offerings.
He starts to answer, but Bee’s voice bubbles in from the kitchen, along with the patter of her bare feet.
“Hey, Jess,” she says, offering a smile that’s only mildly forced. “Welcome to Hell.”
I know she’s making a joke about that shitty thing Colt said on Tuesday, but my lungs still tighten. Swallowing over the discomfort, I thrust the pastel box of donuts toward her.
“Here,” I say. Like an idiot. “I, uh, got you some breakfast.”
Bridget pauses for a moment, canting her head.
A wild tumble of red-velvet hair falls over her shoulder, covering the strap of her navy sundress.
That color looks so good on her; the rich blue setting off her lighter eyes and peachy skin.
It even seems to accentuate her freckles, somehow.
Highlighting the splatter across the bridge of her nose and the small constellation along the tops of her breasts…
She catches me looking. Her smile quirks higher on one side, those ocean eyes sparkling. “Thanks,” she replies, then nods at my arm. “You brought your own flowers?”
Have I mentioned that I am an idiot ?
“No, uh…” I place the bouquet on top of her donut box. “These are yours. I mean—I got them, but they’re, um, for you.”
Bridget’s lashes flutter, her focus falling to the mix of peonies and orchids I picked out. Which suddenly seems so dumb . Peonies and orchids? What was I thinking ?
For part of a second, though, it seems like I might have actually done something right. Bridget’s features soften. She reaches up and rubs a petal between her thumb and forefinger—a gentle gesture that somehow scatters goosebumps down my spine.
Another camera flash glints in my peripheral vision, capturing her attention. She looks out the front door and visibly swallows before turning back.
“Oh. Smart. Good idea, Jesse.”
Good idea?
Oh. Shit. She thinks I bought these as some sort of prop. For them .
Before I can bumble an explanation, she offers one of her warm, wide smiles and bustles past us. Adrian’s head turns, his eyes roaming down the soft curve of her spine before zeroing in on her ass.
Can’t blame him there. It’s a gorgeous view.
Adrian notices me staring in the same direction and claps his hand on my shoulder. “She’ll come around,” he says. “Trust me.”