13. Sterling
STERLING
O f course. Of course, I’d see them within moments of being told by my doctor that an all-out fuck fest may be the only thing I can do about my damn Omega hormones going haywire.
The second I spot them, their scents wrap around me like a thick, intoxicating fog. My stomach tightens, my pulse stuttering. And I’m picturing Option B in graphic, vivid detail. Quinn’s mouth on my neck, Cass’s hands on my hips, JP’s body pressed against mine?—
Oh God.
Cass stands tall and imposing, his sharp blue-gray gaze locked onto me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. And the dimpled smile he gives me makes my heart stutter. The walk home last night felt like a white flag, and it seems that the truce is still holding today.
JP is more reserved, still unable to meet my eyes for more than a few seconds, and at this point? Regardless of what Daisy says, I pretty much assume he’d rather I was anybody or anywhere else. Even though my Omega tries to argue with me about that. I can’t make sense of him.
But Quinn just looks pleased at seeing me, and like he’s enjoying every single minute of his packmates’ discomfort.
“Come on, Uncle Jamie, let’s go!” Blake tugs at JP’s hand, his little fingers gripping tightly, his excitement bubbling over. JP bends down, and Blake cups his hands to whisper something conspiratorial in his ear.
They both glance up at me. Blake with wide, eager eyes, and JP with a guarded, unreadable expression. Our gazes lock for a split second before JP looks away, his face set like stone.
Without a word, he straightens and, still holding Blake’s hand, turns and walks off. Hand in hand, they disappear into the crowd, leaving me feeling oddly dismissed and irrationally stung.
But also, there’s a flutter. A not-small part of me warmed by the obvious bond between them, by the way they move around each other like it’s second nature.
I clutch my basket a little tighter, trying to shove those traitorous thoughts into the deepest, darkest corner of my mind.
“Are you shopping for anything in particular, Miss Hart?” Quinn’s voice is smooth, teasing, with just enough of an edge to make my cheeks flush.
I shift the basket higher on my hip, trying not to fidget under his gaze. “Just browsing, and please, I’m only Miss Hart to five-year-olds. Call me Sterling,” I say, keeping my tone light. Trying not to notice how their scents blend together, how they seep into my skin and cling to my clothes.
“Let me guess,” Quinn hums, tapping a finger against his chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Pastries? You strike me as a sweets girl.”
I know my curvy hips and rounded belly might lead them to think that. “What, do I look like someone who has a sweet tooth?”
He shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “You smell like cinnamon rolls. Just figured it was a safe bet.”
Cass snorts, his arms crossed over his chest, looking like he’s fighting a smile. “Blake said you made some kind of amazing cookies in class the other day. Kept going on and on about them.”
I laugh, a little surprised. “He did? They were just basic chocolate chip cookies.”
“Just basic?” Quinn repeats, sounding scandalized. “Blake acted like he’d never had a cookie before.”
“Speaking of…” I’m wondering where the whirlwind of a child went. “Where did Blake go? I wanted to tell him that I submitted his drawing to the school’s winter art walk.”
Cass jerks his chin to the side. “Getting one of those fancy Cardamon buns from Daisy’s stall. Said he had to bring you one. Demanded, actually.”
As if on cue, Blake comes barreling through the crowd, clutching a paper bag in one hand and waving it around triumphantly, pulling a glowering JP behind him. “Miss Hart! I got you something!”
I bend down just as he barrels into me. My heart squeezes painfully, caught between joy and an unexpected longing.
“You got me something? Really?” I smile, taking the bag he thrusts into my hand. Inside is one of my favorite things about Twilight harbor. A cinnamon roll laced with brown butter, vanilla and cardamom. It makes my mouth water just by smelling it. “That’s so sweet of you, Blake. Thank you.”
“It’s ’cause you’re nice.” He grins, missing one of his front teeth, and it’s so adorable I can’t help but laugh.
Cass’s gaze softens as he watches Blake interact with me, the rough edges of his expression smoothing out just a little. And Quinn’s is practically beaming.
JP, however, keeps his distance, eyes trained on something just over my shoulder, his arms crossed loosely, projecting an air of indifference that his scent doesn’t match. I can smell the underlying bitterness that seeps in around the usual warmth of his licorice scent. I just don’t know why.
So,” Quinn says, nudging JP with his elbow. “What else are you shopping for today, Miss Hart? Something we can help you find?”
“Uh…” My brain short-circuits, their attention—hell, their very presence—making me lose my grasp on coherent thought. “Just…produce. For dinner. You know, like a responsible adult.” I aim the last bit at Cass and am instantly happy when he shoots a half hearted glare in my direction.
“Responsible, huh?” Quinn’s smile turns sharp, teasing. “Well, if you’re feeling responsible, you should let us walk you back to your car.”
Cass gives him a side-eye, but he doesn’t argue.
Instead, he watches me closely, waiting to see how I’ll react.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks…
nervous. But that doesn’t quite match the confident, overbearing Alpha I’ve gotten to know so far.
It’s hard to imagine making any of these Alphas nervous.
“I…” I start, but my voice falters.
The idea of all three of them walking me anywhere makes my stomach twist—in a good way, a bad way…in every way.
Option B flashes through my mind again in graphic detail. Suddenly, I’m right back on my porch, Cass inches from me, the heat of his body curling around mine as he calls me songbird.
“I’m fine,” I manage. “You don’t have to do that.”
“True, we don’t have to,” Quinn repeats, arching a brow. “But maybe we want to.”
Blake tugs on my sleeve, his grin still blinding. “Please, Miss Hart. It’s safer that way.”
“It’s like three blocks,” I argue, though my resolve is already slipping. Blake’s sincerity is impossible to ignore. “Pretty sure I can manage without a full Alpha escort.”
“Doesn’t matter if it’s three blocks or thirty,” Cass grumbles, his voice rough and low.
“Fine,” I relent, pretending not to notice the way my heart skips a beat. “But only because Blake insists. But I do want to walk around the market more.”
Blake cheers like I just promised him an entire truckload of cookies. “I knew she’d say yes!”
“I'll tell you what.” I crouch down to his level with a smile. “I’ll meet you back here in thirty minutes. Sound good?”
He nods eagerly, but then his face falls. “Aww, but I wanted to come with you.”
“Not this time, buddy,” I say gently. “There’s something I want to do real quick, just me. But I promise, I’ll be back soon.”
“Pleeeaaase?” he tries again, eyes wide and hopeful.
Before I can come up with another excuse, JP steps in, voice firm. “Blake, don’t be rude.”
Blake pouts but listens, scuffing his shoe against the pavement as he mumbles, “Okay…”
The mood shifts, the easy banter collapsing under the weight of JP’s scowl.
“Sorry, Miss Hart,” Blake mutters, his smile fading.
“That’s okay, Blake.” I smile down at him. “I don’t mind; I love that you want to spend time with me.” I ruffle Blake’s hair and do my best to ignore the intense looks all three Alphas are giving me. I absolutely do not have the emotional bandwidth to figure out what that is right now.
So I flash them a quick smile, turn on my heel, and call over my shoulder. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Then I disappear back into the market, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the three incredibly confusing, incredibly hot Alphas watching me walk away.
I stop at a couple farm stalls and pick up some greens and other vegetables and a dozen eggs before heading to where I think Daisy’s booth is.
I find Daisy wedged between two other people taking orders and helping an amazingly long line of people.
She stands behind a glass case filled with pizzas, garlic knots, and those delicious buns, biscuits and a surprising amount of giant cookies.
Behind her is a large gas pizza oven that she’s somehow made portable to heat slices up to order.
When she sees me, despite the line of people waiting, she steps out from behind the booth and pulls me into a warm hug.
“Hey, Sterling. Didn’t expect to see you today,” she says, pulling back to scan my face. Then she glances around. “I just saw Blake and JP. I’m surprised you didn’t run into them.”
“Well, I actually just did.” I smile, feeling a little warm in the face. “Blake brought me one of the buns. I was hoping to grab him something he likes in return…What’s his favorite?”
She gives me a knowing look and chuckles.
She heads back behind her table. “That would be these,” she says, holding up a molasses cookie the size of a dinner plate.
“But fair warning—getting him one of these means serious business. You’ll never get rid of him.
And I can’t, in good conscience, as his favorite aunt, sell you this if you don’t have his best interests at heart. ”
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You’re his only aunt as far as I know—and I’m pretty sure anything less than pure intentions would be met with three very angry Alphas.”
“Hey, Daisy…can I buy a slice or what?” someone yells from the line.
Daisy waves them off without even looking. “You’ll survive a minute, Tom,” she calls back, then returns her attention to me with a conspiratorial grin. “Well, I better get back before the locals revolt. Call you later?”
She hands me the white paper sack, the molasses cookie warm through the paper. I drop it into my basket, smiling.