Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Hollie
As we stroll through the front door, a black and white border collie comes zooming across the floorboards toward us, tail wagging so quickly from side to side it’s one continuous blur. The dog barks happily at me and jumps around my feet.
“Who – who is this?” I say, dropping down to crouch almost immediately and opening up my arms wide. The dog comes racing toward me, sniffing at me at first before dragging its tongue up my face.
“Dolly!” Mr. J snaps, clicking his fingers. “Manners.”
Dolly responds almost immediately, jumping back and dropping to lie down, although her tail continues to sweep across the floor in excitement.
“Dolly,” Annie says. She bends down to pat the dog on the head. “She used to be Dad’s working dog, but she’s retired now too. And if Dolly’s here, that means somewhere around here is – ah, yeah, there – Kenny.”
I follow the direction in which my best friend is pointing and, to my surprise, see a large, snowy white rabbit lingering in the corner, little nose twitching up and down.
“A rabbit?” I say.
“Yes,” Annie says. “He’s a house rabbit.”
“He was meant to be an outdoor rabbit,” Mrs. J says. “But someone is a big softie.” I’m assuming she means Annie. “And couldn’t stand the idea of him being outside in the cold.”
“Don’t dogs eat rabbits?” I say, watching in astonishment as the old collie strolls back to the bunny and flops down beside him, the bunny immediately curling up with the dog.
“Greyhounds, maybe,” Annie says. “But not Dolly. Dolly loves Kenny nearly as much as Kenny loves Dolly. They’re inseparable. In fact, I think Kenny might think that he’s actually a dog. Watch this. Kenny! Kenny!” Annie calls. “Come!”
Kenny looks up from where he seems extremely comfortable. One of his ears twitches.
“Kenny, come!” Annie says more firmly this time.
Reluctantly, the bunny slumps up and then hops over to my best friend. My best friend tickles between his ears and I give her a little applaud.
“I’ve never known a rabbit who could follow commands before.”
“He doesn’t always do it,” Annie confesses. “I think he’s just showing off for your benefit.”
“Right,” Mrs. J says. “Let’s warm you up, Hollie.”
And next she’s leading me through into a giant family kitchen, which is probably the size of my Rockview apartment.
She forces me down onto a stool, and then she’s pouring us out hot chocolates she’s been cooking on the stove.
It’s creamy, warm, and utterly delicious.
And it does not make me think of the alpha who I spy from the corner of my eye carrying both of my suitcases up the staircase.
After the hot chocolate and one of Mr. Jackson’s home-baked chocolate chip cookies, Annie takes me on a tour of the house.
It really is beautiful, like something right out of Little House on the Prairie.
The views from each window are picture perfect and everything is knotted wooden floorboards made cozy with homemade quilts and thick rugs.
When we’ve toured nearly all the rooms, I ask as innocently as I can, “So where’s Clay’s room?”
“I showed you,” Annie says, pointing ahead of us. “That one back there.”
“But,” I say, “how about his pack mates?”
Annie gives me a guilty little smile. “Are you angry with me, Hollie?” she asks.
“Angry?” I say. “Why would I be angry?”
“For not telling you about the pack thing. Your mom got sick about the same time Clay got together with his pack. So, I guess I never really told you about it at the time. And then, I don’t know, I just forgot. I forgot it was a big deal for an omega.”
“Oh,” I say, really wishing and willing my cheeks not to pinken.
“It’s not a big deal. It’s fine. I was just curious because there don’t seem to be enough bedrooms, and there’s only one bed in Clay’s room and it’s a single bed at that.
” Something I find surprising for an alpha – an alpha that smells the way he does and looks as hot as he does.
Unless, when he’s hooking up with the countless women that he must be hooking up with, he always goes back to their place.
“That’s his old bedroom, his childhood bedroom.” Which makes a lot of sense now I come to think about it, given the model racing cars, the dinosaur bedsheets, and all the comics. “Clay and his packmates are staying in one of the cabins out on the ranch until they’ve built their own house.”
“They’re building their own house? Where?”
“On the ranch, silly,” Annie says.
“On the ranch?” I cry. “Geez, how big is this place?”
“10,000 acres, Hollie. Plenty of room. They wanted to build their own house for their own family.”
“Oh,” I say again, this time concentrating with all my might on not letting my cheeks burst into flame.
Of course – of course – Clay Jackson would have a pack – a pack that includes that seriously hot cowboy I saw out there on his horse in the field.
Of course, Clay Jackson and his hot packmate would have an omega.
Of course, Clay Jackson, his hot packmate and their omega would be on the verge of starting a family.
Of course, some girl would already have snapped them up. That’s just logical.
“So… they’re starting a family?”
“Well, not yet,” Annie says. “They’ve got to build the house first.”
“Right,” I say. “And are they going to get married?”
My best friend looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You know Clay isn’t gay, right? I mean, I know I don’t talk a lot about my big brother, but I think I’ve mentioned girlfriends in the past.”
“I wasn’t suggesting he was gay.”
“You just asked me if he was married. I assume you meant to his packmates.”
“No, no, I meant – ” I can feel myself digging a hole, and I wish, in some ways, I was, then I could fall right into it and the earth could swallow me up.
Or maybe now would be the perfect time for aliens to swoop down and abduct me.
I wish I’d never started this conversation.
“You said they were starting a family. I assume they’re starting a family with, you know, a girl. ”
“Ahhhh,” Annie says, with a hint of a smile. “You’re asking me if they’re dating anyone.”
“I was not asking you whether they were dating anyone.”
“You so were,” she says.
“Well, are they?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Hollie Bright,” Annie says, also crossing her arms over her chest and mirroring my prickly posture. “Are you interested in my brother? Because that is kind of gross.”
“Is it?” I ask.
“Totally,” she says. “My best friend and my brother.” She makes a gagging face.
“I’m not interested,” I tell her. Okay, possibly I am a little bit interested.
I bet there isn’t an omega on the planet who wouldn’t be interested in Clay Jackson – despite his obvious downsides – that grumpy attitude being the most obvious one.
There are enough upsides – the good looks, the countless endless number of muscles and that mouthwatering scent.
But in my experience, alphas are problems. They may look hot, they may smell delicious, they may do things to an omega’s body that an omega just can’t control, but they’re also arrogant, uptight, and rude.
And Clay Jackson, in my experience, is all three of those things.
I’m definitely not interested in him and his scrummy scent or his obscenely big biceps or his tight-fitting jeans. Not at all.
“I’m glad we got that cleared up then,” Annie says, narrowing her eyes at me. “Shall we continue the tour now?”
“Yes,” I say.
“You sure?” she asks. “You don’t want to go sniff my brother’s bedsheets?”
“Annie!” I yelp.
“Sorry, Hollie. I just thought that was the kind of thing you omegas did.”
Annie grew up with an elder brother who (according to her) presented as an alpha in his early teens. She lived with me – an omega – all the way through college and grad school. Yet, she continues to play ignorant when it comes to alpha and omega dynamics.
“Annie,” I say, “you’ve known me ten whole years. Since when have I gone round sniffing men’s sheets?”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” she says. I stick my tongue out at her. She sticks hers right back out at me. “Want to go and see the animals now?”
Which is most definitely her attempt at a peace offering, because Annie knows I love animals.
I’ve been obsessed with them ever since I was a little girl.
It’s the reason I’m vegetarian. It’s the reason I spent nearly all of my twenties training to be a vet.
Unfortunately, I grew up with a mom who was highly allergic to every animal on the planet.
So I never had any pets at home other than the one stick insect that died after two weeks.
I guess I could have got a pet once I’d moved out, but there aren’t a lot of landlords in Rockview who are particularly happy accepting an omega in the first place.
I guess they don’t like the idea of our scents sinking into the walls or our slick ruining the furnishings.
There definitely aren’t many landlords willing to accept an omega with pets in toe as well.
That’s why I have Ted, the goldfish, and rely on the clinic for my daily-dose of animal snuggles.
“You mean the horses?” I ask Annie.
“I mean the horses,” she replies.
Out of all the animals in the universe, I love horses the most. It all started with a My Little Pony craze when I was in kindergarten, then morphed to an obsession with The Pony Club books as a tweenie, and it hasn’t really stopped since then.
I love horses, even if I rarely get the chance to ride them.