Chapter 4
Chapter Four
BILLIE
It’s not until Rhett disappears deeper into the arena that I realize my mistake.
When was the last time I made plans in front of someone that was clearly being left out?
I’m so off my stride right now. As if being late wasn’t a bad enough start.
What a horrible first impression. And it’s not like there’s a large group of partners I can fade into here like there was in LA.
No, there’s only the assistant coach’s daughter right now.
I turn toward her with a grimace.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. That was really rude to do in front of you.”
Please, please don’t hate me for it.
“It’s fine!” She smiles and shakes her head, easily dismissing my faux pas. “But, speaking of food, have you gotten a chance to eat something? Timber brought me straight here, and I could really use some lunch.”
I did, actually, but turning down her offer feels like the wrong choice right now.
I’m not oblivious—my personality doesn’t lend itself to making fast friends.
I’m quiet and reserved, slow to warm up and even slower to trust. Some people offer their entire selves on a platter, convinced that the pieces they will inevitably lose aren’t worth hiding away.
Others keep it all behind locked gates and only offer the keys to select people.
I am very much so the latter. It took me a solid season and a half in LA to really feel like part of it all.
Instead of answering her question, I mess with the strap of my purse and ask my own. “Timber?”
“He’s one of the players,” she explains. “He dropped me off.”
Does she not have a car? Nashville is fairly walkable, but we’re firmly in the suburbs out here.
Before I can figure out what exactly to say next, she frowns and pulls her phone from the small bag draped across her body and resting on her left hip. She sighs and then taps on the screen before dropping it back out of sight.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
She nods, her cheeks pink. “Just busier than I expected to be this time of year.” She blows out a breath, seeming to center herself. “It’s all right. I’ll get caught up tomorrow.”
“What do you do?” The question feels a bit formal. I hide my grimace and mess with my engagement ring.
Carys gives me a shy smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “I’m a florist,” she says after a minute. “Mostly weddings. It was a hobby I picked up in college. Dad helped fund my storefront downtown when I moved back this summer.”
Well, that could certainly explain the subtle floral scent that clings to her.
“I didn’t really think I would get much traction until next year, but apparently Dad’s been giving my name to everyone and their dog, so I’m… drowning a bit, to be honest.”
Her cheeks flush again, and she glances around while shuffling her feet, her body angling toward the front doors of the arena.
She’s clearly embarrassed. I take a step closer to her, wanting to soothe over some of her worry, before forcing myself to stop.
I clasp my hands behind my back and breathe deeply, ignoring the itching under my skin at seeing her unease.
Damn. All that talk I’ve heard over the years isn’t exaggerating the impact an Omega can have on others.
It’s something I’d assumed was over-hyped.
I mean, I haven’t interacted with all that many of them and the few times I have, it’s been within larger groups.
They’re rare, and most are in long-term relationships way younger than they probably should be.
Between their need for stability and comfort and the Alpha desire to covet and protect, it’s not all that surprising, to be honest. If what most Alphas feel is stronger than this sudden, irrational desire to ease Carys’s nerves, it’s a wonder they manage to function without looking like complete idiots.
I clear my throat. “You said you were wanting to grab lunch? I think I saw a Greek place on my way here.”
A bit of a bold choice given we’re firmly in the South, but no way I can do anything with a ton of potatoes anymore this week. The bite of Kalamata olives sounds just about perfect right now. Her smile is bright and unrestrained.
“Greek sounds perfect.”
She walks next to me as we leave the arena, the fall sun warming my face as a light breeze rustles the nearby trees.
It dissipates the orchid scent that clings to her clothes.
I drop my bag into the backseat of the no-frills SUV Paxton gave me last year to celebrate me getting my own classroom.
Carys slides into the passenger seat, twisting her hair over her shoulder as she wedges her own purse between her feet.
“So, Dad mentioned you came from LA?”
Her soft voice cuts through the road noise surprisingly well, almost like it belongs here.
PAXTON
“Jesus Christ, you weren’t kidding,” I mutter, dropping the last of my pads into my gear bag, ignoring the humming noise of the locker room around me.
I immediately drop into a calf stretch, trying to keep the cramp from getting worse.
The last thing I need is to have shin splints.
I’m already going to be a mess tonight for dinner.
No way am I backing out of going out, though, no matter how much my body hurts.
It’s Billie’s first day here, and she already made sure Rhett was going out with us.
She gave up her job and followed me across the damn country. The least I can do is make sure she has a nice steak dinner the one day this week I’m actually home.
Rhett has the audacity to laugh in my face.
“Yeah, they don’t fuck around with technical time,” he says, way too at ease given the absolute hell that was our drill. “At least no one threw up this time.”
I grimace, but he doesn’t notice.
He’s much slower to pack up his gear, carefully arranging each pad in the bag so none of the straps overlap and risk getting tangled together.
“I forgot you did that.”
I abandon the calf stretch after only a few minutes and sling my bag over my shoulder, digging out my phone from one of the side pockets. Rhett glances up, his eyebrow raised.
“Did what?” he asks.
I lift my chin toward his bag. “Organize your bag so meticulously.”
He shrugs and rolls his eyes. “Saves me time before warm-ups.”
I snort and pull up the text from Billie that’s waiting for me.
Sorry running a bit late getting back. Be there soon!
No worries, bee.
No longer pressed about getting to Billie, I drop onto the bench and do another leg stretch. A couple more teammates filter in from the showers.
Ashton grunts, running a towel over his hair again. “Yeah, saves you time so you can indulge all six of your pre-game rituals. Maybe adding a seventh will actually help us out this season.”
Rhett shoves his shoulder and then slings his own gear bag over his shoulder.
“It’s three, not six. And anyway, I did add a new one. Did you miss the fact there’s two of us now?” He gestures with his chin to me. “My sweater now has a fancy ‘R’ in front of the James and everything since announcers having to say ‘P. James’ didn’t go over too well.”
Ashton smiles but doesn’t quite laugh, grabbing his own gear and walking with us to the lobby of the practice rink.
Marilyn is standing with Ares, her hands clasped behind her back.
Ares looks less than thrilled, a frown turning down his lips.
Marilyn’s gaze locks right on my brother, an unreadable look on her face.
Rhett sighs beside me, and Ashton chuckles just a bit, clapping his hand on my brother’s shoulder.
“See you for morning skate,” he says.
Rhett gives a noncommittal grunt, one of those sounds he makes when he’s irritated but trying to not take it out on the wrong person.
Then he’s crossing the lobby, pulling a folded piece of paper from his gear bag.
As Marilyn takes it without comment, her eyebrow arching, the front doors open and Billie steps inside the lobby, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head.
A smile curves her lips, her eyes happier than I typically see surrounded by unknown people.
Her arm is looped with another woman’s. That must be the coach’s daughter whose number I was given before getting on the plane last week.
She leans toward Billie, angling her mouth to where I can’t see her lips.
Her eyes flash toward Ares as she says something.
Billie nods, that shy smile growing larger, and follows the blonde woman as she walks toward Ares, Marilyn, and Rhett.
Her shoulders are relaxed. She’s genuinely enjoying the coach’s daughter.
My heart swells. Billie hasn’t ever made friends quickly or easily.
It has to be a good sign that she’s clicked with someone here after only one practice, right?
Maybe Nashville won’t be a complete mess of an experience for her.
I close the distance between us, taking her hand the moment I’m able.
She leans into me without dropping the other woman’s arm, her eyes still soft and unguarded.
Surprise lights through me. Billie isn’t into public displays.
It took almost a year for her to be comfortable holding my hand in public.
I take advantage of her nearness now, though, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the faint, sweet bite of her peach scent that blends with her floral shampoo.
“Carys bug,” Ares says with more warmth in his voice than I’ve heard all day.
The blonde woman blushes.
“Dad!” she hisses.
Ares just laughs, kissing her temple. “Give me about ten minutes to finish up with Miles, and we can get out of here.”
Carys nods then gestures to Billie. “This is Billie. She’s engaged to Paxton.”
Ares gives a warm smile, extending his hand. “Great to meet you. I hope you’re settling in well. We’re loving having Paxton here with us.”
Billie gives a polite answer, something I know she’s been practicing so she doesn’t come across as resistant to integrating here.
“I’m Marilyn. It’s wonderful having you.” Marilyn holds out her hand in greeting, and Billie gives a practiced smile in return. “I’m always a call away if you need anything at all.”
Billie murmurs, “Thank you.”
Carys leans closer to her, her hair falling over her shoulder. The movement stirs up the air immediately around her, and the smell of fresh orchids hits me.
My muscles lock as a primal need to have that scent all over me, tucked into the very fiber of my being, surges through my blood. My dick’s hard in an instant, my veins humming with sudden, overwhelming arousal. It takes everything in me to keep my breathing normal, level.
“Text me later this week, and we’ll grab lunch. And let me know when you want help getting everything organized,” Carys says. Then she pulls away from Billie and adjusts her bag, pulling out her phone with a frown. She purses her lips as she sighs, casting a quick look at Ares. “I’ll be outside.”
Before anyone can say much more than a quick acknowledgement, she’s striding out of the lobby doors, her phone pressed to her ears.
I catch a vague, half-formed question about flowers of some kind before her voice is too soft to understand.
Not that I would be able to process any of it.
The electric pulse of need her scent created is still thrumming through me, more intense than any other time I’ve been anywhere near a scenting Omega.
Understanding washes through me, followed closely with disbelief.
What are the damn odds that the assistant coach’s daughter of my new hockey team is my scent match?
“We should get going,” Rhett says, pulling me from my panic. “Traffic’s going to be miserable getting into downtown.”
Billie squeezes my hand as we start toward the doors. It’s the only thing that keeps me from absolutely bolting. I need to find Carys and smell her again, need to make sure that this isn’t just some strange fluke of perfumes or… I don’t know, cross contamination or something from another Omega.
But I can’t do any of that. I won’t.
I tuck away the knowledge as I force my body to heel.
Then I lean over, kiss Billie’s temple, trace her engagement ring where it sits on her left hand, and head to dinner with my family.