Chapter 15 Bea
Bea
Iwake up to my phone buzzing and the distinct sensation that something is different.
For a disorienting moment, I can't place it. Then I breathe in and warmth spreads through my entire body, pooling low in my belly.
Grayson's scent. All over my sheets, my skin, my hair. Ink and leather and that darker spice that made me lose my mind on his studio couch yesterday.
Yesterday.
Oh god, yesterday.
I press my face into my pillow and groan, but it does nothing to stop the vivid replay my brain insists on providing.
His mouth between my thighs, the scratch of his stubble on sensitive skin.
How he'd taken his time like I was a work of art he needed to study from every angle.
The first sweep of his tongue that made me see stars.
The way he'd hummed in satisfaction when I gasped his name.
My thighs clench involuntarily at the memory.
He'd used his fingers too—two of them curled just right while his mouth did unholy things to my clit.
I remember fisting my hands in his hair, holding him exactly where I needed him.
The way he'd looked up at me with those dark eyes while he worked me higher and higher, like watching me come apart was better than any art he'd ever created.
And then after—god, after. When I'd wrapped my hand around him and watched his control shatter.
The way his breath had caught. How he'd looked at me like I was something precious and profane all at once.
The weight of him in my palm, the heat of him.
The way his knot had started to swell when I squeezed, and how that had been the thing that pushed him over the edge—the broken groan when he finally came, hot and thick over my hand.
My phone buzzes again, insistent, and I realize I'm aroused. Actually, physically turned on just from remembering. My body wants a repeat performance.
And maybe more. Maybe everything.
I grab it off the nightstand, squinting at the screen.
Group chat: The Pack
Right. Because that's a thing now. There's a group chat. With a name. That includes me.
River: Morning! Reminder - dinner tonight at 7. Bella Notte in Pine Valley.
Seth: Still good for everyone? I can drive if needed.
Grayson: I'll be there.
The nerves hit all at once. Right. Dinner. With all three of them. Tonight.
After I let one of them—
I shove that thought away and stare at my phone. I should respond. Should say something normal and casual like "sounds good!" or "see you then!"
Instead, my thumbs hover uselessly over the keyboard while my brain screams increasingly unhelpful things.
You let him go down on you and now you're supposed to sit at dinner with him AND the other two like that's totally normal?
What if River can smell Grayson on you?
What if Seth notices the hickey on your collarbone?
What if they all KNOW and they're just being polite?
I type: Can we maybe reschedule?
Then delete it.
Then type: Actually I'm not feeling well.
Delete.
Maybe I died in my sleep and this is hell. That would explain a lot.
Me: See you at 7!
I hit send before I can overthink it further and immediately regret every life choice that led to this moment.
My phone buzzes immediately—a separate text, not in the group chat.
Grayson: Wear something you can move in. Might want to skip the couch tonight.
Heat floods through me so fast I actually gasp. My scent spikes—cinnamon and apple going thick and sweet with want—and I have to press my thighs together against the sudden ache.
That bastard. He sent that privately, which somehow makes it worse.
I stare at the message for a full ten seconds while my brain tries and fails to form coherent thoughts. Because now I'm not just remembering yesterday. I'm thinking about tonight. About what "skip the couch" means. About whether he plans to—
Stop it. Stop.
Me: That's very presumptuous of you.
Grayson: Is it?
Me: Extremely.
Grayson: We'll see.
I throw my phone across the bed and flop back against my pillows, heat radiating from every inch of my skin.
This is fine. Everything's fine. I just need to get through today without combusting from mortification, avoid all three alphas until dinner, and then somehow sit through a meal pretending I'm a functional adult who makes reasonable life choices.
Easy.
There's a knock on my door.
"Bea?" Ben's voice is muffled through the wood. "You alive in there?"
"No. I died. This is my ghost."
"Your ghost needs to get ready for work. You've got a shift at the hardware store in an hour."
Right. Work. At the hardware store. With River.
River, who definitely knows something happened with Grayson because small towns don't have secrets and also because I literally ran out of the store yesterday looking thoroughly debauched.
"I'm calling in sick," I announce.
"You're not calling in sick." Ben's hand is on the doorknob, but he doesn't open it. There's a pause. A longer pause than normal. "Uh. Bea?"
"What?"
"Why do you smell like—" He stops. Clears his throat. "Never mind. I'm staying out here. But you need to shower. Like, immediately."
Oh god. Oh god. He can smell my arousal through the door.
"I hate you," I say to the ceiling.
"Not as much as I hate having an omega sister right now." But there's laughter in his voice. "Seriously though. Cold shower. Now. Before Mom notices."
"Benjamin Wilson, I will end you."
"Yeah, yeah. Threats of violence. Very original." I can hear him leaning against the doorframe now, settling in for maximum big brother torture. "So. Interesting thing happened yesterday."
I grab my pillow and press it over my face. "Go away."
"I was at Millie's getting lunch, and I overheard something fascinating."
"I don't care."
"You will." He's definitely grinning now. I can hear it. "Apparently, three certain alphas in this town—a deputy, a hardware store owner, and a tattoo artist—are forming a pack."
My entire body goes rigid.
"And you know what's even more interesting? According to Maeve Bennett, who was talking to Mrs. Patterson, who heard it from her daughter who works at the sheriff's station—" He pauses for dramatic effect. "They're courting the same omega. Formally. Together."
I can't breathe.
"Funny thing is," Ben continues, voice going a bit more serious, "my little sister didn't mention anything about being formally courted by a pack. Just said she had plans tonight. So either Maeve's gossip mill is working overtime, or someone's been keeping secrets."
"Ben—"
"Relax. I haven't told Mom and the dads. Yet." He taps on the door. "But you might want to, you know, mention it before the entire town knows and they hear it from Millie at the diner. Just a thought."
"They asked me to dinner," I manage. "All of them. Tonight. I didn't—I didn't know it was formal courting. I thought it was just—"
"Bea." His voice gentles. "Three alphas don't form a pack and take an omega to dinner in Pine Valley unless it's formal courting. That's like... that's the whole thing."
Oh. Oh.
"Also," he adds, back to teasing, "you should probably shower before you come out. You smell like you've been thinking about one of them very enthusiastically. And I really, really don't want to know which one."
I hear him push off from the doorframe. "Shower. Get dressed. And Bea?"
"What?"
"For what it's worth?" His voice is sincere now. "I'm happy for you. Terrified as your overprotective brother, but happy. Those guys seem solid. Just... maybe tell Mom before she hears it from Maeve?"
"How long do I have?"
"Knowing Maeve? You have until approximately noon today before she 'casually' stops by with muffins and concern."
"Great. Perfect. Love small-town life."
He laughs. "Shower. Now. And open a window. Seriously."
He leaves, and I finally let myself process what he just said.
Formal courting. They're formally courting me. As a pack.
I knew tonight was important. I knew it was a date with all three of them. But formal courting? That's... that's a declaration. That's them telling the whole town they want me. That they're serious.
And apparently the whole town already knows.
I take the coldest shower of my life, trying to get my scent under control before I have to face River. It doesn't work as well as I'd like, but at least I no longer smell like I've been having explicit fantasies about my three—
Courters? Suitors? Future pack mates?
God, I don't even know what to call them.
By the time I make it to the hardware store, River's already at the counter ringing up Mrs. Woodbury's order of lightbulbs.
He glances up when the bell jingles, and his eyes do this thing—this slow, appreciative sweep from my face down to my boots and back up—that makes heat pool low in my belly.
"Morning," he says casually, like he didn't just visually undress me in front of the town's biggest gossip.
"Morning," I manage, hoping my voice sounds normal.
Mrs. Woodbury turns, eyebrows rising. "Oh, Bea dear! I heard the most interesting news this morning."
Here we go.
"Did you?" I ask, aiming for polite interest and landing somewhere near strangled enthusiasm.
"Three handsome alphas, all courting the same omega." She leans in conspiratorially, clutching her bag of lightbulbs. "Reminds me of that romance novel Levi recommended last month."
River coughs to cover a laugh.
I want to die.
"That's... nice?" I try.
"I think it's wonderful. About time this town had some excitement." She pats my arm. "You'll be at dinner tonight, I assume? At Bella Notte?"
How does she know where we're eating? HOW DOES THE ENTIRE TOWN KNOW WHERE WE'RE EATING?
"Yes ma'am," I say weakly.
"Lovely! I'll make sure to tell the book club ladies. We're all very invested." The way she says 'invested' makes it clear the entire town is following this like a soap opera.
I'm going to combust right here in the hardware store.
"Have a wonderful day, Mrs. Woodbury," River says smoothly, steering her toward the door with practiced ease.
When she's finally gone, I turn to him. "The entire town knows."