Chapter 22
chapter
twenty-two
Monkey dicks .
Can anyone tell me the exact moment my life became a never-ending series of these surreal, mortifying moments?
Because I know I am not actually standing in front of the fanciest boutique “nest club” in the whole damn state. Wearing space buns and painted overalls. With an alpha whose leather musk climbs over the humid afternoon breeze to warm my lungs and clench my core.
This cannot be happening.
This is not happening.
Except, oh God .
I can’t stop the wet glide of slick that seeps into my panties. They’re supposed to absorb my essence—but I learned back at the car dealership that, apparently, it’s time for a new pair.
Adrian immediately turns his chiseled face in my direction. And, Lord, even that’s sexy. His neck? The muscles and tendons and bulging strength that runs all the way from his built chest to his square jaw?
Damn it. I think I have a crush on my fake Daddy-Boss-Alpha.
In my defense, how exactly does one resist forming a crush on a man this gorgeous? When he does nothing but compliment you and buy you cars ?
Okay, well. Not car s .
But the cutest Mini Cooper on the planet. In an adorable shade of yellow. With custom white-and-sky-blue leather seats, nonetheless.
And now we’re here. At the store of my literal dreams .
L’abri used to be exclusive to Europe, but that never stopped me from secretly scrolling their social media feeds late at night, drooling over the beautiful “nest-scapes” their incomparable designers curate.
When we found out our tiny-but-posh Orlando suburb would be one of their test markets for launching US shops, my friends and I were thrilled.
When our location finally opened last summer, Alicia was the one to dash my dreams—informing me that L’abri only took customers by appointment. No window-shopping or penniless librarians allowed.
I thought it was a bullshit policy, but now?
Standing here? I sort of get it. The exterior of this place is so luxurious, it practically gives me hives.
Smooth black stucco, brushed brass fixtures, and their signature striped awnings—all of it is every bit as sophisticated and attractive as the alpha next to me.
The same one who senses my increasingly-acidic scent and reaches for my hand, squeezing solidly. “Don’t worry about it, little blue. We have an appointment.”
Seriously? I’m not even taking responsibility for the state of my panties.
This man is diabolical.
I’m starting to suspect he’s planned every detail leading to the demise of my underwear’s dignity. From taking me to my favorite place for iced coffee earlier, to the way he cups the nape of my neck, now, lightly drawing circles with his thumb.
I clench my core and give my Omega a very stern talking to. We are not going to melt down here. We are in public. At the fanciest nest store in the state. With a man who looks like he could pose for cologne ads. There will be absolutely no public humiliation .
The voice inside me whines so hard, the sound nearly trips up my throat. But he’s ? —
I squash her down harder, ignoring her desperate pleas . NO , I bark at her. Get back in your hole .
She shows me a mental image of a different sort of hole and the memory of how Dante filled it last night. I snap back, Exactly, crazycakes. That was literally last night . Not even twelve hours ago. You’re fine .
Usually, my Omega is a timid sort. She normally doesn’t put up a fuss, but instead of backing down, her whines climb higher. But ? —
I cut her off with a low snarl, mentally blocking the rest of her protest. Adrian hears my strangled whimper and does the absolute worst thing imaginable: pressing his front into my side. Where I’m pretty damn sure the semi-hard ridge of his cock grazes my hip.
Donkey balls .
“Just a couple more minutes,” he promises in the husky, reassuring timbre I can’t seem to resist. “I know you’re tired after sleeping so poorly. As soon as we finish up here, I’ll take you home, and we can have the groceries for your neighbor delivered.”
I wonder if we’re early for our appointment. He paused us out here on the sidewalk, but he may be waiting for my perfume to settle.
I doubt he wants to drag me around this high-end store when my scent is so strong . Why would a man like Adrian want to be associated with the lemony napalm oozing out of my pores?
His body suddenly tenses, confirming my self-consciousness. I start to step away, giving him space to breathe, but a panted voice interrupts.
“Hey!” Jesse calls, jogging in from the parking lot. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I tried to get here by one, but my pitching coach had all these stretches and?—”
He freezes at the curb, his pretty hazel eyes rounding when my stench hits him. “Uhhh…” He clears his throat. “We, um, good? To go in?”
God, this is humiliating . But I will be damned if I miss my one and only chance to go into L’abri , so I paper over a mortified cringe with a smile. “Yep! I didn’t know you were coming, Jess.”
He looks as chagrinned as I feel, grimacing. “Is that okay?”
Adrian chuckles quietly. He does that a lot, actually; like we’re all so endlessly amusing. “I asked him to come, Bridget. Jesse needs an afternoon off from intensive training, and I figured he might like to help us here.”
I’m still not sure what he thinks we need from this place.
I’ve furnished my nest as best I could, turning the tiny spare bedroom into a relatively cozy space.
Sure, it doesn’t totally feel like a nest since there isn’t a sunken pit in the ground.
And the best I could do for the lights was blackout curtains and battery-operated Christmas bulbs from Amazon. But it gets the job done.
Well.
I hope it will.
I haven’t done a heat there yet. Once I finally got out of Alicia’s house, I used the money I used to spend on suppressants to prepay for a year-long heat clinic membership. I picked a local, low-priced place so I wouldn’t run into anyone from my sister’s snobby circles. And lived to regret it.
After my heat last fall left me scarred and sore for three weeks after, I vowed to take care of myself next time. Or, I guess, this time.
So, come to think of it, maaaaaybe there are a few things I should grab while we’re here. Though I doubt they sell five-dollar twinkle lights in a beautiful place like this.
Jesse nudges my arm as we turn for the entrance, his blond brows crouched over golden-green eyes. “You sure you’re okay? My Alpha is telling me you’re not.”
I stare, thrown. Partly because he’s not wrong, but mostly because I’ve been upset around him nearly every time we’ve interacted and he’s never noticed.
Or maybe he’s just never spoken up.
I want to ruthlessly shush my Omega again, but she has a point. Is Jesse Locke, Golden Boy Extraordinaire—professional athlete, Prince-Charming-handsome, Honor Student— nervous to speak his mind?
Is he shy ?
Maybe Colt is too , the voice in my middle suggests, remembering the way he turned his face away every time I looked at him. The stubborn set of his brows. His clenched jaw and flared nostrils…
Pretty sure he just hates us, babe , I inform her.
Which is fine because I’m not exactly his biggest fan, either. Especially since he nearly ended his own life with his selfish stupidity.
None of that is Jesse’s fault, though. He’s here, trying to be nice. Attempting to make amends for the last fourteen months. I should at least smile.
“This place is making my Omega a little—” ALPHASSSSSSSSSS “—extra,” I tell him, ignoring the way my panties stick to my wet core. “I promise I’ll be fine.”
Thankfully, Adrian’s unflappable control only gets smoother as he leads us into the store.
Because if I thought the outside of L’abri was intimidating… my eyes are wide as saucers as I peer around the lobby.
Its rounded alcove is dark and moody, with charcoal suede walls and flickering collections of candles. A soothing water feature fills the wall across from the door, babbling quietly, anchored behind a large glass desk and two artfully arranged fiddle-leaf trees.
Adrian doesn’t appear the slightest bit bothered that I’m wearing overalls I painted myself. He whisks us up to the desk and smiles at me, barely sparing the pretty receptionist a glance as he says, “Messina Pack. One o’clock.”
She types and offers a bright grin of her own. “Mr. Messina. Of course. We have the nest-scapes you requested set up for you.”
My mind trips over her casual words. Did she say he requested certain things? For me?!
Seeing my stunned blink, Adrian’s warm gaze flickers. “They’re just a starting point, little blue,” he husks. “If you don’t like any of the nests I pulled, the staff will show you everything else they have in stock. We’re not in any rush.”
“I—I don’t?—”
Here I thought perpetually clicking advertisements of bedroom-to-nest conversion kits was a dirty little secret between me and my phone. How the hell did Adrian know?
Answering my unspoken question, the pack alpha squeezes my fingers. “I promise I didn’t go inside your nest. But you’re using the spare bedroom, and I didn’t see one of these setups charged to any of our accounts. You need one, right?”
“No,” I immediately deny. “It’s no big deal. Seriously.”
Adrian’s thick black brow arches. It’s the same expression he gave me when I told the car salesman I’d take any color Mini Cooper they had on the lot. The alpha’s voice drops into a rougher rasp, his tone stern. “Bridget.”
He sort of has a point.
I’ll be going through a real heat, alone, for the first time ever. It would be good to have a proper nest structure with a sunken middle—and L’abri is the only place in town with custom kits to convert any room.
I bite my lower lip, giving in with a sigh, “Okay, okay. Yes.”
Adrian flashes me his weathered, gorgeous smile, gently leading us past the front desk. “You’re a fast learner. I like that.”