Chapter Six
It's been a whole week since I got embarrassingly drunk and spent the night at the Coffey pack house. I've seen Lawrence in the one class that we share twice a week. He came and sat by me both days, making my heart do little trippy things. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't the coffee he brought me both days doing it, either. Maybe by the kind gesture of it.
I'm looking forward to my shift at the station this weekend, but I can't be sure anymore if it's because of doing something I love or because I know that he's going to be there with me. I never really saw myself being one of those guy—or pack—obsessed omegas, yet, here I am. Only a week later, and I wonder for the fifth time today when I'm going to see the others again.
Saint stopped by a couple days ago and dropped off things for the case, which involved interviews with the families and suspects. He didn't come inside and didn't stay. We also didn't talk about me trying to kiss him last weekend. I have a feeling that might be the reason why he's avoiding me right now. The first chance I get, I'm going to address it and get us back on the same page for the case. We're never going to solve it like this.
I'm walking across campus, planning on going home before heading over to the station for my shift tonight when I run into Lawrence. Though, I'm not sure if running into him is the right way to say it. I get the feeling he was searching me out.
"Hi," he says, falling into step easily with me.
"Hey," I greet him with a smile.
"I know you said you walk everywhere, but I'd like to offer my chauffeur services for the time being," he says.
I roll my eyes, not actually annoyed. "Did Saint put you up to this?"
He shrugs. "We all kind of agreed on it. There's a person out here doing bad things to girls. Better to be safe than sorry, right?"
Knowing he's absolutely right and that I need to seriously reconsider bringing my car here, I reply, "I accept."
"Good," he says, reaching out a hand and waiting for me to take it.
My belly does flips as I think about how we look like a couple walking across campus. When we get to his car, he opens the door for me and I see a box with a bow in the front seat.
"What's this?" I ask him.
He does the lopsided grin. "A present."
"For?" I ask.
His smile grows. "You."
"From you?" I ask.
He nods slightly, almost shy. "It's just something I think you might appreciate."
No one other than my parents has ever bought me a present, and it makes me giddy on the inside. "When can I open it?"
This time he laughs. "Now, if you want."
I clap excitedly before setting my back in his floor and start unwrapping the box. Inside sits the most beautiful espresso machine with several bags of coffee beans and other things to make my favorite latte.
"You might already have one, but this one is pretty cool," he says behind me. "It grinds the beans right before it brews, giving you a fresh cup of espresso every time just like the cafe. Just in case you ever don’t feel like going out for one."
It's so thoughtful that I can't contain my happiness. Spinning on my heel, I throw my arms around his middle, thanking him as his arms go around me.
I feel his lips press onto the top of my head. It would be nothing to lift my chin and capture one of those on my lips instead, but for some inexplicable reason, I don't. Instead, we let go of each other and get into the car. He tries to take the box to move it to the backseat, but I turn it away from him without letting him take it. I just barely hold back from telling him that it's mine. Don't ask where the desire to do that comes from, because I have no idea.
He doesn't act offended in the least. On the contrary, he's grinning as we pull out onto the street. It only takes a few minutes to get to my house. I guide him down the driveway to the actual tiny home I'm staying in. Letting him take the box, knowing it's safe with him, I grab my bag and let us inside.
His chuckle fills the space as he steps inside. "This is probably the coolest thing I think I've ever seen. I'd love to see how Saint fits in here."
I laugh, not being able to resist dishing out my own teasing, "You've got some room to be talking. Your head is almost touching the ceiling."
He glances up and laughs, the deep sound making me swallow hard.
"That's fair," he says, still grinning. "Want me to help you set this up?"
"Sure," I tell him, ushering him over to the small counter. "Believe it or not, I don't actually own a coffee maker. There's something about fresh espresso that I've never been able to get right. It always tastes different."
"Well, let's give this a shot and see how good it is," he offers.
He goes about taking everything out and setting it up for me. I end up watching his muscles flex as he moves more than what he's actually doing. It isn't until he's got the first shots brewing that I think to ask him. "Lawrence, not that I'm complaining, but why did you buy this for me?"
Licking his lips, he stands up straight before turning to bring us face to face so that he can look down at me. His eyes roam over my face for a few seconds before he finally confesses. "I hoped that you'd accept it as a courting gift."
The only sound in the room after his admission is the sound of espresso pouring into the little shot glasses. I'm pretty sure we both quit breathing, too.
His Adam's apple bobs as he does his own swallow after another few seconds. "Of course, it doesn't have to be that if you don't want it to be, too. Just a gift from one friend to another."
Stepping into his space, I bring our fronts flush against each other and lift my chin as high as I can get it. He understands immediately, leaning down to press his lips against mine. I enjoy the softness of them as they move against mine before I part my own and let him inside. His hands press against my back, pulling me tight against him. My arms are stretched out, thrown around his shoulders as I do my own tugging, trying to get as close to him as possible.
The espresso has almost lost its steam by the time we're able to pull away.
"Should I take that as a yes?" he asks slyly.
I nod, but worry furrows in my belly. Either he senses it or my expression gives it away, because he asks, "Answer too fast? Need some time to think about it?"
"No," I tell him quietly. Not really knowing how to phrase the question I need to ask without coming off weird. Giving up, I just say it. "Is it just you?"
The corners of his lips pull up as he smiles slowly. "Only if you want it to be. I assure you, the rest of my pack is more than willing if you're willing to give us a chance."
I only have one concern as to why I haven't immediately said yes, and I'm not sure Lawrence is the person I need to be speaking to about it. Seeing as he's the only one here, I don't see how I have much of a choice. "What about Saint? And the investigation?"
"He doesn't want either one to get in the way of the other," Lawrence carefully explains.
Kicking the small amount of rejection that I feel to the side, I can completely see where he's coming from. We have time to explore whatever this is and might become. The girls who have already lost their lives and the possibility that there will be more by the end of it all, makes it top priority.
"I can see why," Lawrence murmurs softly.
"See why what?" I ask, tilting my head to the side a bit.
"Why Saint instantly fell for you," he admits quietly, pulling me tight against him again. "Your brain works fast. I can see the compassion written all over your expression. You're willing to put off your own happiness to help close the case. Am I right? Is that what you were just thinking?"
"Maybe," I reply, glancing up through my lashes before tilting my chin up to him again.
He complies easily, slightly lifting me off my feet to bring our mouths back together.
We spend the next couple hours drinking coffee made in my fancy machine as we talk about anything and everything. Then even more time chatting as he spends my shift at the station with me. An entire day of Lawrence and his deep voice? Don't mind if I do. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that his pack wants to court me. I took all the classes and know what is the norm and what is expected of omegas. I just didn't think that my weirdness would be attractive to anyone. Let alone, five someones in a pack. I honestly wish that I could say that my worst fear is them finding out how truly weird I am. Come on, how many people are obsessed with death and murderers to the point of making a podcast and social media videos about it? No matter the reasoning behind it. I'm a weird person.
Unfortunately, that's not even the worst thing I bring to the table. We've all got skeletons in our closet. Even those who say that they don't. Mine just so happens to be a little bit bigger than most. It's my most guarded secret, which wouldn't be too hard to figure out with the right amount of digging. Luckily, no one has gotten close enough to want to dig. Until now. I'll have to tell them before they find out on their own, and think they've been deceived or something, thinking I'm nothing more than this innocent little omega ready to settle down for a pack.
Saturday morning rolls around, and after making my own latte...okay two...that's how many it takes for me to get the courage to do what I'm doing. Pulling out my phone, I text Saint and ask for a ride if he's not busy. I could've texted Lawrence, but me and Saint need to hash this out sooner rather than later. He immediately texts back saying he'll be over in an hour.
I'm already dressed and ready to go, so I sit down and pour over the notes that he gave me. The same thing I've been doing for days. My brain is trying to put together this puzzle that feels like it's missing all of its edge pieces. There's nothing harder than starting one from the inside working out, and that's what I'm doing. I'm trying to fit the pieces into the right grooves, but they just aren't going. What am I missing?
The sound of the SUV pulling into the driveway brings me back into the present and out of my mind. Tucking all of the papers back into their folders, I put them back into my locked desk drawer. Grabbing my things, I lock the door behind me as I go hop in the car.
"Thanks," I tell him as I put my seatbelt on.
"No problem," he replies, backing out onto the road. "Where am I taking you?"
"To see Henry," I say.
This catches him off guard. I can tell by the way his eyebrows lift. "Is there a reason?"
"Yes," I tell him. Lawrence told me last night that Henry was the one covering the murders and it had caused him to be spending more time at work than normal. It's how I knew where he'd be today. "I want to see if Henry will show me the information he's got on the girls. Plus, I want to see if there's a way I can look through old records for papers to see if this is the first time this has happened here."
He's nodding as I'm about halfway through. "Good thinking. The press gets a lot of their information from us, especially when it's an ongoing investigation. However, they do get tips, and they're not allowed to share those. It might spook their informants or spies. Whatever you want to call them."
"You don't like the press much, do you?" I ask.
"Not really," he admits. "Henry? He's a good man. Proud to have him in my pack. The rest of the buffoons he works with? Not so much. They've got no loyalty or integrity. They'd sell their own mothers for a good story."
We fall silent for a few minutes. Glancing out the window, I watch the highway go by as we head into the city, deciding it's now or never. "Saint, I'm sorry I tried to kiss you last weekend. I should've never attempted to overstep those boundaries. If for no other reason than putting the case in jeopardy."
His teeth clench hard before he finally replies, "You don't have to apologize for that."
After another long pause, he adds, "You were drunk. I wasn't going to take advantage of you and have you regret it the next morning. Otherwise, I would've risked it all."
My heart thumps hard in my chest. So, he wasn't rejecting me like I thought, but that still doesn't change the fact that we have a case to solve before we can do anything about this.
"Lawrence told me yesterday that the pack wants to court me," I say, throwing it out there to see what he has to say about it.
His eyes flick over to me. "How do you feel about that?"
I answer his question with one of my own. "How do you?"
"I've already told you," he says softly. "I'd risk it all."
Turning to face him completely, I wait until he glances over again. "So would I."
By the time we make it to Henry's building, I'm not sure if our conversation has helped or made things worse. Because, no, I don't feel rejected anymore. But what are we supposed to do about it? Nothing. That's almost harder than anything.
He pulls up to the curb at the front. "Go to the front desk there and ask to see Henry. I'd go in with you, but the badge and all."
I go to get out and he grabs my hand closest to him. He brings his to his lips and presses a soft kiss against it.
Yep. Definitely harder now.
Clearing my throat quietly before I can speak, I tell him, "I might be in here for a while. You don't have to wait. I'll get a cab or something home. Thank you for bringing me."
"You're welcome," he replies. "But don't take a cab home. Ask Henry for a ride. It'll give him a reason to finally get out of there for a little while."
"Okay," I promise, stepping out.
I see the reflection of his SUV in the glass on the front of the building until I'm walking inside. When I turn around, he's gone. Taking a deep breath, I make my way over to the desk and do as Saint said, asking for Henry. The man in a security uniform tells me to take a seat and makes a phone call, mentioning Henry's name.
It's not but a few minutes later before he's stepping off the elevator in the corner. I've never realized just how attractive a well-dressed man is until this moment. His black pressed slacks are tight around his thighs and go great with the hunter-green Henley that truly sets his eyes off. His dark hair is different from Lawrence's as much as it is the same. Opposite colors. Same length and waves.
"Darci?" he asks, curiously.
"Hey," I wave a hand, standing to walk over to him.
He leans down and kisses my cheek, taking my hand and pulling me over to the elevator. Waiting until we've stepped on, he apologizes, "I'm sorry I crossed boundaries just now. We have spies everywhere, and I don't want someone thinking the worst. Not that I mind at all, but I'm surprised to see you here."
I explain what I've been thinking about all morning, and he nods as I finish. We've still got two more floors to go before we stop. I step into his space and go up on my toes to press my lips against his cheek, his long, dark hair tickling my face as I do. It's a bold move considering I haven't personally spoken with him about the courting. Only using what Lawrence and Saint have both said. It appears that I don't have anything to worry about as he tucks me closer to his body and his expression softens.
"It's a good idea. I'll see what we can find for you," he says right before the elevator dings, telling us to get off.
Henry tows us through his work space that's setup with desks all looking exactly the same. It's almost like something off a mind-bending sci-fi show. All facing the same way. All white with the same black desk chairs. All stacked high in papers. We get a few curious glances our way and one woman actually stops mid-stride to watch us walk by, her mouth hanging agape.
"Why are people looking at us funny?" I ask once we finally make it to an office and he closes the door behind us.
He closes the blinds over the window looking out into the office as he answers, "I've never brought anyone here. Not even my packmates. I don't like combining work and personal life. Even my informants don't come up here, and no one is allowed in here. Ever."
"You mean that I'm the first one to set foot in the mysteriously alluring Henry Upton's office?" I tease, dragging a finger down the side of his clean desk. The space smells clean, like he's telling the truth and no one is ever in here. New bookstore is all I can pick up, and it's relaxing. I can't recall how many times bookstores became my safe space. Now here I am, bringing popcorn to the bookstore party.
Turning, he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall with a grin. "Yeah, you are."
"Hmm," I murmur, moving to stand next to the window that looks out over the city. "I emailed you once a couple years ago, but you never responded."
"I don't remember that," he admits, coming up next to me and brushing our elbows together. "I'm sorry that I didn't. Not to make an excuse, but I get a lot of corresponding emails. What was it in regards to?"
"This case I was researching," I lie. I want to tell him the truth and it is on the tip of my tongue, but the words just spill out before I can stop them. "Not a big deal. I just thought it was pretty wild meeting you in person."
"Now courting you," he says quietly, eyes flicking over to me.
I turn and smile at him. "Exactly. You're kind of one of my heroes. Instead of focusing on the murderer like most papers do, you gave the victims part of their justice."
He nods, "Took a bad hit for that here, too. My boss was angry."
"Yeah, I bet," I tell him. "Too different and worried it wouldn't sell probably."
This time his smile is sad. "So, do we want to get started on what you came here to do?"
Tamping down my own feelings, I focus on what's important. "Yes, please."
Henry makes his way back over to the door, stopping at his desk first. He grabs a business card out of the little holder and pauses to write something on it before handing it to me. "Just in case you ever need anything again."
I take it with another kiss to his cheek. Pulling out my phone, I call the cell number that he just wrote down and wait until I hear his phone vibrating. "That's me, so you have mine too now."
Just as his hand closes on the door handle, I add, "Thank you, Henry."
"Anytime, love," he says.
My belly flips at the pet name. One more thing on my list of nevers. The Henry Upton calling me ‘love.’ I can't help how high I hold my head as I follow him out.