Chapter 8
CLAIRE
One fake date. That’s all I needed, and somehow I’ve arrived with two.
Corey and I climb out of the truck, while Brody’s making his way in our direction.
My stomach is churning so hard. We stroll along toward the venue that stretches behind Brody, a stone-walled estate house draped in climbing ivy, its tall windows spilling amber light across manicured gardens.
Wrought-iron torch stands line the pathway.
Brody doesn’t rush but saunters with that unhurried stride that tells you a man knows exactly what he looks like and isn’t sorry about it.
Suit and shirt open at the collar, his jaw hard, blue eyes locked on me.
And when he gets close enough for me to see the full picture through my glasses, my lungs forget their entire job description.
He’s devastating. Sharp, sculpted, the suit fitted across his shoulders.
Dark hair is pushed back from his forehead, and the flickering light carves shadows under his cheekbones.
I burn to press my fingers to the hollow of his throat where his shirt is unbuttoned and feel his pulse, except I need to stop thinking immediately.
His gaze travels directly to me. The diamanté clips, the deep V-neck, and the bronze satin clinging to my waist and falling to my heels. The slit up my right leg… He takes his time staring. When his eyes return to mine, something in them has shifted. They’re starving.
“You look incredible,” he murmurs, and his voice is low enough that it vibrates through the small space between us.
I flush so hard I feel it in my earlobes. Two nights ago, this mouth was on mine, and my body remembers every second. Then his attention shifts to Corey beside me, and his brow creases with genuine confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“Funny story,” Corey begins, bouncing on his heels. “She thought I was you.”
“Oh?”
“She showed up in our yard wearing a robe and demanded I attend a wedding. When a gorgeous Omega asks me out that forcefully, I figure the safest answer is yes.”
“Completely guilty,” I say, lifting one hand in surrender. “My contacts were defective, my vision was impacted, and when I saw who I thought was you mowing the lawn, I panicked. By the time I put my glasses on, I was already in his truck and we were practically here.”
Brody processes this for about two seconds.
Then a grin breaks across his face, the slow, wicked kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he pulls Corey into a one-armed hug with a hard clap on the back.
They separate and Brody shakes his head, looking at me with an expression halfway between amusement and admiration.
Seeing them together, I can’t help but admit that the resemblance is there. Up close, the differences are obvious. But from a distance, with the same short, dark hair, broad shoulders, and that easy Alpha confidence, they could easily pass for brothers.
So, through blurry contacts and in a panic, I stood no chance of realizing they were different people.
“Well,” he says. “At least you’ve got good taste in accidents.”
“So you’re both okay with this?” My voice pitches higher than I’d choose. I’m gripping my clutch bag so tight the clasp is cutting into my palm, and my chest is constricting.
“More than okay.” Brody’s eyes meet mine and he winks, unhurried, deliberate, and the memory of his kiss surges through me so fast I have to press my nails into my palm.
Corey scans the grounds, the guests, the building, taking everything in. “Considering we’re both here and suited up, I say we go in and enjoy ourselves. Two Alphas. One Omega in that dress.” His brown eyes find mine, as does his seductive grin. “Your ex won’t be able to think straight.”
My gaze darts around the entrance. Guests are filtering through, glancing our way.
Two women near the archway have stopped mid-conversation and are openly staring at Brody and Corey with the glazed expression of people who’ve forgotten what they were doing.
I feel the attention gathering around us, a gravitational pull that these two men create without trying, and my instinct is to shrink.
To hunch my shoulders and disappear. But the bronze satin won’t let me disappear.
And neither will the Alpha standing at my side, whose scent is threading through the evening air, curling into my lungs with every breath.
“I can’t turn up with two dates,” I say. “People are already looking.”
“They’re staring at you in that spectacular dress,” Brody corrects.
Before I can respond, a voice cuts through the evening. “Claire!”
I twist around. Katie’s striding out from the building’s side entrance, dark hair bouncing, moving with the purposeful energy of a woman on a mission. She’s in skinny jeans, sneakers, and a fitted black T-shirt, dressed for a coffee run rather than a wedding, and I love her for it.
Except, she’s not alone.
The man striding beside her fills the doorway he’s stepping through.
Charcoal suit, strong chest and build, soft blond curls falling around a face that reads as serious until you notice the eyes.
Brown, steady, quietly absorbing everything.
His shoulders are wide and his expression more intimidating. My pulse stutters.
He reaches Brody and Corey, and they collide. Not polished handshakes. A rough, physical reunion, grips on shoulders, low voices, Corey shoving his arm, and Brody pulling him in. They know each other?
Katie grabs my arm. “Surprise! I got you a date.”
“Wait, what?” I mutter.
“After our phone call, when you said you were going alone? I couldn’t allow that. So I reached out to ManBaker’s business page and set the whole thing up.” She beams. “You’re welcome.”
I watch the blond man laugh at a thing Brody says, and then I hear Corey’s voice casually say, “Jakob, man, did you just get back today?”
Jakob.
The third packmate with Brody.
I have no words.
“I contacted ManBaker,” Katie explains. “I got to chatting with Jakob, and he’s easy to talk to. He’s their business manager, so we struck up a deal for him to join you at the wedding as your fake date.”
I press my hand over my mouth because I’m going to either laugh or scream, and I genuinely don’t know which.
Katie’s head snaps toward me fast. “Wait. Back up. You already had two dates before I arrived with the third? And they know each other?”
“Pretty much,” I answer.
Her gaze sweeps from Corey to Jakob, then pauses on Brody, her eyes widening. “Oh my God, you’re the ManBaker!”
Brody gives her a small, guilty wave. “Apparently.”
Katie stares at me again, clearly as gobsmacked as me.
“Hold on,” I say, facing the three Alphas. “Did any of you actually talk to each other about this? None of you mentioned a wedding to the others?”
Brody runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been flat out getting the house set up. Moving boxes, unpacking, arranging the studio. It didn’t come up in the last two days.”
“I was leaving New Zealand, and then I was on a flight from Auckland,” Jakob adds. “Landed earlier, came straight here, as I had a shower and changed on the plane. I planned to mention it afterward.”
“Must be nice,” Katie mutters. “Flying first class, I assume.”
Jakob just grins.
Corey barks a laugh.
“So everyone played a role in this chaos,” I say slowly, “and nobody communicated, and the result is that I now have three fake dates to my friend’s wedding.”
“When you say it out loud, it sounds chaotic,” Corey admits, grinning. “But in practice, it’s efficient. Three Alphas covering all angles. That’s just a good strategy.”
Two young women in short skirts and heels strut past on the path, slow to a stop, and openly stare at the men.
“Well,” one of them says to her friend, loud enough for all of us to hear, “there’s one too many for the two of them. I’d happily take one off their hands.”
Katie flutters a hand in their direction. “Keep walking, ladies. They’re all taken.”
They drift away, whispering, glaring her way. Brody catches Katie’s eye, and they both grin. “I’m Brody,” he says, extending his hand.
“Katie. I know who you are from your videos.” She shakes his hand. “Claire’s best friend and agent.”
“I’m Corey,” he interjects and shakes her hand next. “I’m the best accident here. I got ready in ten minutes. Nearly threw my back out getting into the suit. And I may have skipped a step in the dressing process.”
Brody looks at him. “Which step?”
“Underwear.”
“Of course.”
“The shower was three minutes. Point is, after all that effort, I’m attending this wedding and I’m going to have the best time doing it.”
Jakob unfolds his arms and refolds them. “I flew nineteen hours. I’m staying.”
“Nobody’s leaving,” Brody concludes.
Jakob’s gaze shifts to me, and for the first time, his stillness doesn’t feel distant. He steps closer, then offers me his hand. “Jakob Holland,” he says, his voice low and husky enough to drive my pulse into a frenzy. “I’ve heard lots about you from Brody, so it’s nice to finally meet you.”
I stare at Jakob’s hand for half a second too long before I accept it.
His grip is firm without being too much, and the second his fingers close around mine, my body has the absolute nerve to notice the strength in it.
The steadiness. The way his thumb rests once against my knuckles before he lets go.
“Claire, which you already know,” I manage nervously.
Jakob’s mouth softens at one corner. “It’s good to meet you properly.”
Corey leans toward Brody. “Fuck, man, have you been watching Bridgerton on the plane?”
Jakob doesn’t look away from me. “If I had, I’d have kissed her hello with one arm around her waist and her dipped back in my arms.”
My lungs stop doing their one job.
Katie, standing beside me and watching this whole disaster unfold with open delight, tilts her head. “Maybe you should.”
I gently nudge her with my elbow. “Katie, don’t encourage them.”
“I’m your agent. Encouragement is literally my job.”
“No, your job is contracts.”
“And chemistry.”