24. Rosie
Chapter 24
Rosie
T he realization that I’m not alone comes slowly. It’s the warmth of a hard chest and the tickle of a beard. That fuels another reminder: Nash Wells is my alpha—my scent match.
I tense, trying not to breathe, as if that will somehow make the reality that Nash and I are in bed together less real. Yesterday comes slamming back into me like a freight train, wiping away the languid feeling in my limbs. With careful movements, I slink from the bed, stealing an errant throw to cover myself.
Trying for stealth mode, I make my way downstairs in search of my purse.
I’m doing the walk of shame in my own home . Smooth, real smooth. But since I slept with Nash in the best sex of my life, the rules no longer apply.
When I finally find my purse in my grandma’s bathroom, my phone is almost dead. I have two messages from Bambi from last night asking for porch updates and another from Kelly. Even seeing his name makes my stomach tight. I feel as if I’ve lived a lifetime since I spoke to him last.
Kelly: Checking in. It’s been a weird few days, and I could use a Raven pick-me-up.
My life is in chaos. I leave him on read, unsure what the heck to say. Instead, I dial Bambi, chewing on my lip while waiting for her to pick up.
“Rosie?” she answers groggily. “It’s not even four. What’s wrong?”
My words pour out of me in a weird freak-out whisper that’s too fast. I keep peering over my shoulder, worried Nash will wake up before I gather my wits.
“Whoa. Back up! How is Grandma Lily?” Bambi asks.
I take a deep breath and try again, getting through the events, this time in a detached, logical order. Saying them out loud feels surreal.
“Okay. Totally get why you’re freaking out. Let me see if I can get someone to cover my shift so I can help. I’m officially putting you on leave, so don’t argue.”
“No! That’s not?—"
Bambi cuts me off. “I said no arguing, and I’m the boss. You’ve taken, like, three days off in four years, all of them because you were sick. If you need more time after her surgery, we will figure it out. Deal?”
My eyes burn, and my voice is shaky. “Thank you—for everything.”
Bambi makes this soothing sound full of compassion. “No thanks needed, babes. You’re family. Now, as for the neighbors?—"
I groan. I didn’t even tell her I slept with Nash, just that they helped me.
“Well?” she asks. “What was it like being around them? Do they have an omega?"
Nash’s big body appears in the doorframe, and I jump. His chest is on display, his jeans undone at the button, and it’s absolutely the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “Nash is here. I gotta go.”
“He’s there? You ho ! You skipped the best part—” Bambi splutters as I hang up.
I did skip the best part, because I slept with Nash Wells. How is that even real?
“Well?” he asks, his brow arching. He clearly heard the end of her rant— love that for me.
I shrug. “Good morning?”
He smiles at me, the rueful one. “Why don’t we figure things out over breakfast and coffee? Come home with me?”
His words indicate way more than breakfast. It makes my feet ache with the need to be near him, and at the same time, my chest itches errantly. I pull the blanket tighter around me, unsure what the heck I’m supposed to do. I can maybe sort of wrap my head around Nash. But the rest of it? Not so much.
In my experience, the best things that happen are usually followed by the worst. This pack is like a dream. How could it ever work out, me being theirs?
Nash takes a step closer and another until the air becomes sweet grapefruit mixed with cozy driftwood. That first hit is dangerous, making the gnawing panic recede. “Maybe pack a bag? You can’t stay here with the water line off. We can make a plan to get started on the house. Let my pack show you that we can be what you need. Let us help you.”
I swallow my fear and force myself to be brave. “Okay to breakfast. Everything else, we’ll see.”
Nash rubs his rough thumb along my cheek, his tone just this side of cocky. “Everything else I can work up to with my charm.”
“May I suggest a tool belt to help you in your journey?” I lob back.
He laughs when he scoops me off the floor into a bridal carry, and I yelp as he carries me through the bathroom and out of the house.
“I’m in a blanket!” I cry. My arms circle his neck, and I hide my face.
He traipses across the yard, but I refuse to look. If I see any of our other neighbors, I may die on the spot.
But even though I’m embarrassed, I can admit I like the way he’s holding me. Damn him and that manhandling switch he turns on. It makes me feel protected and dainty simultaneously, short-circuiting all common sense.
When we cross the threshold of his pack home, the nerves return. Boxes are piled in haphazard stacks, the furniture scrunched close together without reason. It’s early and the house is quiet, but knowing his pack is here ratchets up my unease.
What does it mean that I’m his mate and he already has a pack? They will need to accept me for this to work. It’s Dane Daniels—a college football star and generally beloved Knotty Pines native. The omega with him last night looks exactly like he belongs. He’s beautiful and sophisticated—debonaire. He was rocking a scarf and designer pants in the middle of this tiny town. There’s no world where I fit into this pack’s lifestyle. They’re the country club crowd I avoid at all costs.
Nash carries me to the kitchen and sets me on the island. “Let me get you something to wear. I’ll be right back.”
I fiddle with the blanket until I’m covered enough not to feel exposed. This room is the only one they seem to have unpacked. The open space is a cheerful blue with white accents. It’s homey but worn. I wonder if their plan is to renovate it and turn it into modern stainless steel. He did say last night that he specializes in remodeling homes. Maybe that’s why they moved here instead of into one of the new homes by the lake?
He returns a moment later, passing me a pair of sweats and an old jersey. He eyes me as he moves about, starting coffee.
“Turn around and close your eyes,” I demand. He’s got me on a countertop in a blanket. Nothing about this is graceful.
“I hate to break it to you, baby, but I’ve already memorized your curves.”
“The memory is all you get at the moment.” I swivel my finger, and he laughs but doesn’t protest.
The worn-in jersey is big, pooling around my thighs. I eye the sweats, debating the easiest way to accomplish this without doing something incredibly unsexy. I wiggle down from the counter and hike up the pants at the waist, rolling them until they sort of fit. It’s this or soggy clothes, and at least these smell like him.
“You done?” he asks.
“Fully covered,” I say, finding my way to a barstool at the island.
“That’s a shame,” Nash flirts.
I wrap the blanket back around me as if that extra little barrier will protect me from this man’s charm. Every time he looks at me like that or calls me baby, another crack sounds in my defenses.
It’s clear from the way Nash moves with confidence that he’s comfortable in the kitchen. He pulls ingredients from the fridge and sets himself up at a workstation next to me on the island. Without turning my way, he says, “I’ll write up a project list this morning so you can see what needs to be done and how much the materials will cost.”
“Can you give me a working idea?” I ask, not wanting the answer but knowing I need it to prepare.
He hesitates, whisking milk into a bowl of eggs.
“How bad is it?”
“The plumbing upgrades aren’t cheap. I can help with?—"
“No, you’re doing enough.” I put my hand out to stop him, resting it on his bicep—wrong move. He’s got rocks there, and touching him makes my body tingle, begging for a repeat of last night.
“Let me decide what’s enough.”
His searing gaze makes my belly warm. He leans in, a soft brush of his lips and that tickle of his beard that’s already becoming familiar. I open for him, and he swipes his tongue across mine, chasing me in a kiss until I’m breathless.
A throat clears, and I jump back, startled to see Dane standing at the edge of the kitchen. He’s shirtless because life is unfair, and his arms are crossed as he studies me. There are dark shadows and bruises under his eyes. He looks worse off than me this morning.
His gaze isn’t menacing, but it has an intensity I don’t understand. His brown eyes flash with something like possession when his gaze dips to my chest and back to my face. He gives Nash a look and strolls toward the coffee pot. “How are you holding up this morning, Rosie?”
“Good as can be expected,” I squeak, his presence making me nervous.
Nash doesn’t have the same problem. He recaps last night for Dane while heating a pan and cutting up fruit. The two go back and forth, talking about repairs, and I swivel my head between them, watching.
Dane hands me a mug of coffee. “Cream?” he asks, his voice husky from sleep.
It makes my body light up. I nod, not sure I can find my voice. Why is he so damn handsome?
Dane doesn’t seem to mind that he’s got a silent breakfast guest.
Me? I’m trying my best to huff his autumn scent without looking like a total weirdo. It’s such an intoxicating smell that I can’t help myself from casually trying to lean in to get another whiff.
He pours cream into my mug and goes back to chatting with Nash.
They create a priority list for the repairs and move on to discuss staining the back porch here, somehow ending up talking about building a float for the Founder’s Day parade. Because of course Dane is still the “it” guy of Knotty Pines, back to be the new football coach and entangled in the thick of all the planning for high-school hell week.
That little reality-check makes me itchy. I eat the eggs Nash puts on my plate and keep quiet, wondering why the heck I ever thought I could entertain the idea of being a pack with them. I can just imagine the reaction we would get in town if people found out, the looks and laughs we would get.
Nash sidles up to the island's edge with his own plate, his hand casually rubbing my back. That tropical breeze of his tries to do its thing, calming my racing anxiety. That is, until he nonchalantly switches the topic back to me, informing Dane that he’s invited me to stay.
Right, just a regular day. I’m only being asked to stay with my mate and his super-hot pack to decide if maybe, just maybe, they’ll keep me. It’s fine.
Dane smiles. “We’d love to have you stay, Rosie. We’ll work on setting it up today so you have someplace to get comfortable.”
I swallow hard, sweating under his gaze. How in the world can I manage living in the same house with them, even if it’s only while Nash works on repairs?
“That’s very generous. I told Nash I’ll think about it,” I say, managing to only blunder a few words.
Dane steps closer until I’m sandwiched between the two big alphas. His apple-and-leather scent melds with Nash’s, and it makes me inappropriately wet. My body spins an entire fantasy wherein I become the meal splayed out between the two of them.
A whimper escapes. A whimper. At breakfast. I’ve officially lost my mind.
Dane’s eyes flash, and his nostrils flare. I think he smolders— do people smolder in real life? I’m pretty sure he’s smoldering. He says my name as if it’s torturing him, and I still don’t understand what the heck is happening.
“That gives new meaning to a hot breakfast,” a sweet tenor says.
I whip my head around to see their beautiful omega.
The omega gives me a pointed look. “Please don’t cool off on my account.”
RIP, Rosie B , because this man is heartthrob sexy . I can’t survive between the three of them.His voice also gets to me. It reminds me of something I can’t quite place but sends a shiver up my spine all the same.
Unlike Dane and Nash, who are broad and rugged, this man oozes softness. His bare chest is long and lean, several gold chains around his marked neck. He’s also tall, especially for an omega, with floppy dark curls that fall into his eyes and a delicately gorgeous face.He looks kind—and a little nerdy this morning with his tortoise shell glasses.
He prowls closer, eye-fucking me the entire way. He holds out his hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt but not sorry to finally meet you. I’m Quinn. Welcome to our pack, Rosie.”
I frog-lip the whole introduction, letting this princely looking man take my hand. He brings it to his lips but then farther, turning up my wrist. His eyes roll back at the same time my jaw drops.
Quinn is sniffing me.
“You smell so good.” He groans, dragging the tip of his nose along my wrist.
Why is that even sexy? But the sensation gives me goosebumps, sending another jolt to my clit.
That’s when I get a whiff of his scent. Quinn smells like a cider-spiced kiss by the fire on a snuggled-up winter’s night. He’s clove, amber, and cinnamon with the slightest hint of fresh snow. He smells so good I have the uncanny urge to lick him and rub myself along him like a cat.
I wrench myself away from Quinn, pretty sure I couldn’t pass a sobriety test right now. These three combined are a seriously dangerous drug that fucks with my sanity.
Nash chuckles, and Dane gives us another of those looks I can’t decipher.
I need to leave before I get completely carried away and lay myself out like an offering for these men. There’s no way this works out, and the longer I stay in this bubble, the more likely I am to forget the reality outside this door.
I hop down from the stool, holding my wayward tits, my cheeks on fire. For someone who constantly finds myself in these situations, you’d think I’d have a knack for getting out of them more gracefully. Not my luck. They’re mortifying every single time.
I stumble and let the blanket fall, leaving it behind as I call out a hurried thank-you and make a beeline for the front door. I don’t care that I look totally foolish. Two more minutes in their scent-infused bubble and I would have been a goner.
Dane’s deep voice rumbles from behind me. “Wait! Rosie.”