Chapter 6
NOEL
I’ve tracked fugitives through three states, tackled armed suspects in dark alleys, and once spent eighteen hours in a freezing surveillance van waiting for a bail jumper to surface.
None of that prepared me for standing in a petting zoo.
The festival grounds are packed, with families everywhere, kids running between food stalls selling kettle corn and funnel cakes, and bounce castles inflated and busy in the distance.
Christmas music blares from speakers, competing with the general roar of happy chatter.
The kind of scene I normally avoid. Too many people, too much noise, too many variables I can’t control.
When you spend your days hunting criminals, you learn to prefer quiet spaces where you can see threats coming.
But somehow, I’m here.
And surprisingly, it’s not as bad as I expected.
Maybe because I can’t stop watching Hannah.
She’s everywhere at once, checking the fence line around the petting zoo, adjusting the hand-painted signs we hung this morning, talking to the teenager manning the ticket booth.
She’s wearing dark jeans that fit her perfectly and a cream-colored sweater.
Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, a few dark strands escaping to frame her face.
Every time she moves, I catch a hint of her scent on the breeze. Sweet sugar-cookies, coffee, and marshmallow, faint but unmistakable. Delicious enough to eat.
It’s been driving me insane since yesterday.
The petting zoo itself appears decent. We set it up at dawn with a large shared pen with five-foot fences, reinforced gates for controlled entry and exit, all the animals in one place.
Two reindeer are in the back corner for now, already drawing stares from people passing by.
Our goats are all over the place, the sheep we borrowed are huddled together looking nervous, and that miniature horse Kane insisted on bringing is living its best life near the entrance.
Then the chickens and bunnies are having the time of their lives going everywhere.
While the fair is running, the petting zoo doors haven’t opened yet.
“Noel!” Hannah is waving at me from the entrance to the small building attached to the petting zoo, the makeshift office. “Can you guys come inside for a sec before we open up?”
I catch Chris’s attention—he’s double-checking water troughs—and jerk my head toward the building. Kane is already heading that way, abandoning his goat supervision.
The structure looks absurd from the outside. Someone painted it to resemble a cartoon elf house, complete with oversized candy cane decorations flanking the door and a shingled roof. There’s a wreath on the door with bells that jingle when Hannah pushes it open.
Inside is better.
One large room, maybe fifteen by twenty feet, with wooden walls painted white and an exposed-beam ceiling.
There’s a folding table against the far wall covered in supplies—first aid kit, bottled water, extra animal feed, clipboards with paperwork.
A few folding chairs scattered around and it’s warm.
Someone hung a mirror on the wall, probably for costume checks or last-minute appearance fixes.
It’s functional. Cozy, even.
And the second the door shuts behind us, Hannah’s scent floods me in full force. I have to lock my jaw to keep from inhaling deeply like some kind of creep.
I’ve spent years learning to control my reactions. Bounty hunting requires it. You can’t let suspects see you rattled, can’t let fear or attraction or anger show on your face when you’re trying to talk someone into custody.
But this is different. I force myself to focus on her face instead of drowning in her scent.
“Okay.” Hannah turns to face us, clasping her hands together. “First, thank you to all three of you. I know this isn’t your usual gig, and you’re doing it for free, which is—I can’t even express how much that means to me.”
“It’s no problem,” Chris says, leaning against the wall, all nonchalant. “We’re happy to help.”
I’m still on the fence about this.
“Still. I owe you. Big-time.” She’s nervous. The way she’s twisting her hands together, the slight tremor in her voice. “So I have one more favor to ask. And I completely understand if you say no, but I figured I’d at least try because—”
“What do you need?” Kane interrupts gently.
She takes a deep breath, then reaches under the table and pulls out a bundle of what appear to be clothes.
Oh, no.
“The client loved the idea of themed staff for the petting zoo,” Hannah says quickly, words tumbling out. “And I thought it would be fun and festive, you know.” She unfolds the bundle, revealing a Santa suit as she stares at Chris.
He groans. “You’re kidding.”
“What’s another one for the team?” Kane adds with a smirk.
“You were perfect as Santa at the Winter Party! The kids loved you!” Hannah is practically pleading now. “And the client is advertising your presence on all the signage around the festival.”
Yet Chris is already reaching for the suit, resignation clear on his face. “Fine. I’m getting used to this gig anyway.”
I’ve never been more grateful that Chris volunteered to be Santa, because that means Kane and I don’t have to.
Then Hannah pulls out two bundles, smirking at Kane and me.
Elf costumes. Green tunics with zigzag hems. Red tights. Pointed hats with bells sewn onto the tips.
“Absolutely not,” I say immediately.
“Not happening,” Kane agrees, and I’m glad we’re on the same page about this.
“Come on!” Hannah holds up a smaller version of the costume. “I’m wearing one too! The whole petting zoo staff needs to match. It’s part of the theme!”
“It’s humiliating,” I add.
“It’s festive!”
“Those are very different things.”
She’s staring at us with those wide chocolate eyes, and I can feel my resistance starting to crumble. Which is infuriating. I don’t do costumes. I track criminals and drag them back to face justice, and I wear dark colors so blood doesn’t show.
This is so far outside my comfort zone that it’s in a different time zone.
“Please?” Hannah’s voice dips. “I promise you’ll look great. And I really need this to be perfect. Scot is probably lurking around somewhere, waiting for something to go wrong so he can report back to his uncle that I can’t handle events on my own.”
That does it. The thought of that prick trying to sabotage her kick-starts my protective instincts.
“Fine,” I hear myself say. “But if anyone I know sees me in this, I’m blaming you.”
“So that’s a yes!” Hannah actually bounces on her toes, excited, and my gaze drops to her chest before I can stop myself. Not fair. That’s completely not fair. She’s going to win every argument if she keeps doing that.
“We’ll do it,” Kane says, sounding resigned. “But I’m not happy about it.”
“You don’t have to be happy. You just have to look adorable.” She’s shoving costumes at us, grinning wide. “Get changed! I’ll be back in five minutes!”
Then she’s gone, door swinging shut behind her, bells jingling, and I’m left holding green felt and red tights.
There’s a moment of silence.
“Fuck! We’re really doing this?” Kane barks, staring at his costume like it might bite him.
“Apparently.” I set mine on the table, start stripping out of my jacket.
Chris is already pulling on the Santa pants, shaking his head. “Could be worse. She mentioned yesterday that she had a backup reindeer costume. Full bodysuit. Antlers. Tail.”
I pause mid-shirt removal. “No way.”
“Yep.”
“I’m burning that costume the second I find it,” Kane says.
“Get in line,” I add.
I finish undressing down to my boxers and T-shirt, eyeing the elf costume with deep suspicion. The tunic looks big—Hannah must have ordered sizes for large men—but this is going to be snug.
I pull it on. It fits, barely. The fabric stretches across my shoulders, the hem hitting mid-thigh. The tights are worse, being thin red material that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror and seriously consider just walking out and dealing with the consequences.
Kane is struggling with his own costume, muttering curses under his breath. “How do people wear this stuff voluntarily? This is torture.”
“Someone invented these costumes specifically to punish large men.”
“I’m filing a complaint.”
“With who?”
“Santa. He started this whole mess.”
Chris snorts from across the room. He’s fully dressed now, red suit, black boots, white beard adjusted perfectly. “You two look ridiculous.”
“You’re literally dressed as Santa Claus,” I say.
“I look fantastic. There’s a difference.”
I pull on the pointed hat, bells jingling with every movement, and catch Kane’s eye. He’s looking just as absurd as I feel.
“Hey.” I keep my voice low. “You get close enough to scent her yet?”
Kane goes still, his expression shifting. “What?”
“Don’t bullshit me,” I say. “Yesterday, when she was cleaning up. And now, stuffed in this broom closet of a room with her. You scented her, yeah?”
Kane’s jaw locks so hard I can hear his molars complain. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
I bark a laugh. “Why the hell not?”
His gaze cuts to mine, sharp, uneasy in a way he never admits to. “Because if I’m right, if she’s actually what I think she is, that changes everything.”
Chris stops pretending he isn’t listening and drags a palm over his beard, smug bastard that he is. His grin is slow, wolfish, like he’s picturing her pressed under him already. “Told you she’s my scent match. Knew the second she kissed me.”
I swear my spine tightens. “You two are way too fucking calm about this.”
Kane starts pacing—well, as much pacing as one can do in a room the size of a coffin. “All three of us scenting the same Omega? Meaning she’s ours.”
“So what’s the move?” I ask.
“We figure out if she feels it too,” Chris says, leaning back like he’s working through a bar tab, not our entire damn futures. “Then we court her. Show her we’re worth the mess.”