Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
H arper
“This one or this one?” I say holding up two different cushions to my alphas. They are the same aqua blue but one is made of teddy-bear fleece material, the other cotton velvet.
All three alphas look back at me blankly.
“Errr,” Daxton says, scratching his neck. “Aren’t they the same?”
“Nooo!” I say. “Feel them.”
They all shuffle on their feet, peering around the department store uncomfortably. I can’t help giggling at them.
“What?” Wyatt says, brow crinkling in confusion.
“You look like I asked you to stroke a tiger. It’s just a cushion.” I shake the cushions at them and reluctantly they hold out their hands and stroke them. “See, you’re still big, strong, sexy alphas. Touching cushions did not turn you into omegas.”
“They feel the same to me,” Owen says.
“Really?” I say. “But this one is so smooth and this one so soft.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” Daxton asks.
“Nooo!”
“If you like them,” Wyatt says, “then get them both.”
“But will that be right for the nest? Velvet is seductive. Luxurious. Teddy-bear fleece comfy and homey.”
“What do you want your nest to be like?” Daxton asks me.
I can’t help grinning at him. My nest. A nest I get to design from scratch. A place for me and my alphas.
I have an idea of what I’d like but I’ve never shared that idea with anyone before because it isn’t exactly conventional.
“Well,” I say, hugging both the cushions to my body, “it’s a bit different from what most omegas like.”
This captures my alphas’ attention in a way the cushion choices never could.
“I like different,” Owen growls, “are we talking sex dungeon with chains, whips, swings and everything else?”
“Are you into that?” I say, frowning. Don’t get me wrong – Owen is an alpha. He’s dominant as hell. He’s also a great big teddy bear.
He thinks about my question for a minute. “It wouldn’t exactly be my first choice but if it’s what you wanted–”
“Is it … what you want?” Wyatt says, adjusting his glasses.
“No,” I say. “I’m not that different. I still want the big soft bed, with all the cushions and blankets you could imagine. But most omegas like soft lighting and pale, neutral colors – nothing too stimulating.”
“You want something different?” Daxton says, smiling at me.
“Uh huh,” I say. I place the cushions back on the shelf and waving my hands through the air, paint the scene. “I want color. Lots of bright colors. I want artwork on the walls, strings of multicolored lights and colorful gauze drapes hanging at the windows. I want the cushions and bed covers to be bright and radiant. I want to feel like I’m lying inside a painting. In fact …” I pull out a piece of folded paper from my purse, open it up and show it to them. It’s a sketched design of what I have in mind. I wait for their reaction. “See, it’s a little different. It would give most omegas a migraine.”
“I love it,” Owen says.
Daxton nods. “Me too. And it’s definitely something we can do.”
“Wyatt?” I ask.
“If you showed me this, I’d know it was your nest, Harper. It suits you perfectly.”
I clap my hands together and bounce on my toes. “Then let’s get shopping.”
They all groan but with a vision in mind now, they are much more focused and much more helpful. Wyatt picks our bed sheets covered in tropical leaves and birds, and Owen finds a lamp in a bright green that complements the shades. Daxton even gets stuck into the cushions, deciding velvet is the way to go and selecting a number in vibrant greens, blues and reds.
Next, we head to the furniture section to test out beds and mattresses.
“We need to check they are just right,” Owen says, perching on the side of the bed and pulling me down to sit beside him. “It needs to be firm with some give.” He bounces on the mattress.
“And why’s that?” I ask all innocently.
“So we can fuck you properly,” he says, lunging for me and dragging us both down to lie out flat on the bed. He bounces some more, the mattress bucking beneath me. “It can’t be too soft. Come on you two,” he calls up to the others. “See what you think.”
Soon all three alphas are bouncing on the mattress. I’m laughing so hard my sides ache when Wyatt’s cell phone suddenly starts to ring.
He stops bouncing and pulls out the device from his pocket, holding the screen up to his face.
“It’s the hospital,” he says, glancing at the others.
“It’s your day off – can’t they find another surgeon?” I whine, like a brat.
“I’ll find out.” He rolls off the bed and walks away to a quieter part of the bed display.
“There’s no way he’ll turn down an emergency operation, is there?” I say, shaking my head and smiling. Wyatt is dedicated to his job. He takes the business of saving people’s lives very seriously. “We’re going to have to cut this shopping spree short because I’m not choosing a bed without Wyatt.”
The other two don’t answer me. Owen is combing his fingers through his beard and Daxton is peering across the showroom towards his packmate. The aura of joviality we were enjoying only a moment ago has vanished. Now both alphas look tense – something they are trying to hide through the bond.
I sit up. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Daxton says.
“There is. I can feel it.” Daxton looks at Owen and Owen looks at Daxton. “Oh no, what is it?” I gasp. It’s serious. I can feel it.
Owen reaches out and strokes his palm over my back, making me even more nervous.
“It’s the hospital Board calling about their decision to fire us or not.”
“What?!” I say, jumping right up onto my feet. “How … what?!”
“We went to meet with them yesterday,” Daxton explains. “There was a complaint against us – against our conduct – regarding missing work for your heat.”
“Someone made a complaint?”
“Yeah, and we can all guess who!” Owen mutters.
“But … but why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t want to worry you until we knew the outcome,” Daxton says, “you’re pregnant, Harp. You shouldn’t be worrying about things. It isn’t good for your blood pressure or the babies.”
“We promised each other no secrets, remember?”
Daxton nods. “You’re right. Absolutely right. I’m sorry, Harper.”
We all peer over at Wyatt.
He isn’t saying anything. He’s listening intently.
“It doesn’t look good,” I mumble.
We’re all quiet as we watch Wyatt say something into the cell, hang up and walk towards us. I try to read his expression or decipher his emotions but it’s hopeless. Wyatt’s always been the most difficult to read.
“Well?” Owen and I say together.
“We’re going to be helping out at the Christmas grotto.”
“Thank fuck,” Daxton says, flopping back on the mattress as Owen whoops and punches the air.
“What?” I say, spinning my head around. “What does that mean?”
A smile breaks across Wyatt’s face.
“It means happy-ever-afters do really exist,” he says, “because we get to keep you and our jobs, Harper.”