Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Wren
The sound of hammers and the faint hum of Ryker’s radio follow me out of the kitchen as I wipe my palms on my jeans.
Jude is bent over the counter, smoothing the last of the trim, while Ryker leans on his tool belt, calling out measurements to him. The smell of fresh paint still lingers on the walls, sharp yet oddly comforting.
I stand at the threshold, heart tight in my chest. I can’t believe this is almost done. When I got here, this place was a disaster—cracked pipes, broken fixtures, peeling walls that screamed neglect.
Now, with new light fixtures hanging overhead, fresh tiles on the floor, and the ovens gleaming like they’re finally proud of themselves, the café is unrecognizable. Mine.
“You’re staring again,” Jude calls without glancing up, his pencil tucked behind his ear.
“Am not,” I mutter, though my cheeks heat.
Ryker smirks from across the room, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You are. And you should. You’ve paid for this, Wren. Every board, every nail. You earned this.”
That lands somewhere deep inside me, tightening my throat. They’re right—I did pay for it. I decided to invest, even though it terrified me.
Even though fifteen thousand dollars now sits waiting in my account, a gift from the men who call me theirs.
I still haven’t touched a dime of it.
My voice comes out smaller than I mean it to. “I think… I think I’m predicting a soft opening in two days. If everything’s ready.”
Jude finally looks up, his grin wide. “Two days? I’d say you could open tomorrow. But take your time. You want it perfect.”
The word makes my stomach flip. Perfect. Nothing I’ve ever done has felt perfect.
I clear my throat, grabbing my cardigan from the chair. “I’ll leave you guys to finish up. Call me when you’re done for the day, okay?”
“You got it,” Ryker says, already turning back to the measurements.
Outside, the autumn air greets me with a cool bite, carrying the scent of cinnamon from one of the festival vendors still set up down the street. My nerves twist tighter with every step toward Norah’s shop.
My cowboy boots scuff against the sidewalk, and I run my hands down the front of my dress as though smoothing fabric can calm my heartbeat.
The bell above Norah’s flower shop jingles as I push inside, and instantly, I’m surrounded by color.
Buckets of sunflowers crowd the front, their golden faces turned toward the window. Roses in shades of blush and crimson line the counter, their fragrance filling the air so thickly it almost feels like I can taste it.
Norah is at the center of it all, sleeves rolled, her hair piled high on her head, arranging stems in a tall glass vase.
“Are they ready?” I blurt before the door even swings shut.
Norah looks up, eyebrows lifting at my urgency. “Relax. You have no reason to be nervous.”
I laugh, but it’s high and thin. “Of course I do. It’s my first time meeting the parents of someone I’m dating. Someone I’m… committed to.”
My throat tightens on the word. Committed. To three men. To a pack.
My pack.
“And the rest of them will be there,” I add, my palms going clammy. “It’s not just his parents. It’s everyone. It’s a lot.”
Norah sticks a rose in the vase with unnecessary force. “Mr. and Mrs. Maddox are wonderful people. They’ll love you.”
“They don’t even know me.”
“They know Levi. And Levi loves you. That’s all they need to know.”
Her certainty doesn’t touch the panic rushing through me. I rub my arm, staring at the neat row of chrysanthemums by the window.
“What if they don’t like me?”
“They will,” Norah says it firmly, then softens as she takes in my expression. “And if they don’t, that’s their loss.”
Norah’s arm brushes mine, grounding me. She glances sideways. “Are you limping?”
“No,” I say too quickly. Heat floods my cheeks.
Her smirk says everything.
“Maybe,” I mumble. “A little.”
Her grin widens, sly and knowing.
“Shut up,” I laugh, nudging her shoulder.
“Don’t need to say a word,” she teases, her eyes sparkling. “Your glow says it all. You’ve been… busy.”
That’s an understatement. The amount of sex I’ve had since agreeing to be their Omega is insane. Insatiable.
They fuck me like I’m theirs every chance they get, and I—God help me—I let them. Because for the first time in my life, I don’t just want it. I crave it.
My body flushes with the memory of Beau’s hands, Simon’s mouth, Levi’s teeth grazing my shoulder. I shake my head, trying to chase it off, but Norah’s knowing smirk only deepens.
“Let me just see the bouquet,” I mutter, desperate for distraction.
Norah sweeps her arm toward the counter, where a bouquet waits wrapped in soft ivory paper. White hydrangeas, blush roses, sprigs of eucalyptus that spill like green lace.
It’s elegant, classic, nothing too loud, but impossible not to notice.
“Wow,” I breathe, reaching out to touch one of the petals. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Of course it is,” Norah says, dusting her hands together. “I worked on it all morning.”
I can picture handing it over, can picture the older woman smiling, maybe telling me she likes it. Maybe telling me she likes me.
Norah pulls me into a hug, her arms strong around me. “It’s going to be fine, okay? More than fine. You’ll charm them. You’ll see.”
Her words melt into me like warmth against my cold edges. I cling back for a moment, whispering, “I hope so.”
“You will,” she says again, her confidence unshakable. “You’re part of their pack now, Wren. Remember that. They wouldn’t let you go into this blind. And I’ve met the Maddoxes, they’re nice people.”
I bite my lip, my eyes burning with sudden emotion. She’s right. I’m not alone. For the first time in years, maybe ever, I’m walking into something with people at my side.
A pack. A best friend. A life that feels like it could be mine.
“Fucking hell,” Simon mutters as he adjusts his glasses, the corner of his mouth twitching.
I pause halfway through smoothing the front of my dress, frowning at him. “Do I look okay?”
He looks up fully, his eyes dragging over me in a way that makes my skin flush hot from the inside out. Then his gaze settles on mine, his jaw tight.
“Better than okay,” he says, stepping in close and kissing me tenderly, like he knows exactly how unraveled I already am.
Before I can catch my breath, Beau steps through the doorway, grin sharp and wolfish. He whistles low, the sound skating over my nerves.
“Damn, baby,” he says, and then his mouth is on mine too, quick and teasing, his thumb brushing the corner of my lip before he pulls back.
“Are you ready?” Simon asks, his voice all business again, though his eyes are still burning.
I swallow hard, forcing my thoughts into order. “Almost. I just need to touch up my lipstick and grab my bag. And”—I glance at the bouquet waiting on the counter, the soft ivory wrap gleaming in the lamp light—“one of you should grab the flowers. I can’t walk in empty-handed.”
Beau is already crouched on the floor, rubbing Pancake’s belly like it’s his life’s mission. My cat stretches into it, purring like he’s betraying me with every sound.
Beau glances up, dimples flashing. “I got it.”
Simon, still standing close enough that I can feel the heat of him, tilts his head. “I can help you.”
I shake my head, heart racing, and lean in to kiss him again. “No, you can’t. Not when you’re looking at me like that.”
His brows knit, feigning innocence. “Like what?”
“Like you’re two seconds away from pushing me against the wall and—” My voice drops, throat tight. “And fucking me senseless.”
Simon’s eyes darken instantly, his chest expanding under the crisp shirt he’s wearing, the sleeves folded neatly at his forearms.
The sight alone makes my stomach clench. He’s never more dangerous to me than when he’s dressed like this, half professor, half predator.
“I don’t hear you complaining,” he murmurs, voice low enough to make my knees weak.
The memory crashes into me before I can stop it. The last time he looked at me like this—shirt sleeves rolled, glasses abandoned, hands braced on either side of my head—we never made it to the bed.
He’d kissed me against the wall until I was crying into his mouth, his fingers buried inside me, whispering things no one had ever dared say to me before. I remember the scrape of brick against my back, the way his breath had ghosted over my ear as he told me I was his.
The shiver tears through me so hard I grip the wall for balance.
Simon’s smile spreads, like he knows exactly what I’m remembering. He brushes his thumb over my lower lip. “Fine. I’ll behave.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, though the heat running through me betrays how much I don’t want him to.
I step away quickly, needing space before I forget myself. My lipstick waits on the bathroom counter, and I reapply it with a shaking hand, watching my reflection in the mirror.
My cheeks are flushed, my pupils wide. I look like a woman who’s already been thoroughly ruined tonight, and I haven’t even left the apartment yet.
This dinner matters. Tonight is important. Meeting Levi’s parents isn’t something you stroll into flushed and smelling of sex.
The last thing I want is for his mother to take one look at me and know exactly what her son’s packmates were doing to me earlier today.
I breathe out slowly, pressing the lipstick back into its tube. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this.
Back in the living room, Beau is holding the bouquet now, inspecting the roses like he’s the one who arranged them. He looks ridiculously handsome in his dark jeans and button-up, sleeves rolled in the same careless way Simon’s are.
When he notices me watching him, he grins, his dimple cutting deep.
“You’re ready, sweetheart?” he asks.
I nod, even though my stomach is a knot of nerves. I slip the strap of my bag over my shoulder, fingers tightening on the leather. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Simon comes up behind me, his hand pressing lightly against the small of my back. His touch is warm, grounding. “We’ll be right there with you,” he says quietly.