Chapter 3 #2
"She's been doing miracles for Hazel's cafe too," another voice chimes in. "Struck some huge deal. They want her to do modeling now as well."
"Must be nice. Things have been going wonderfully for her ever since she struck that deal with Rowan and his pack."
Rowan. The name sounds familiar. I think Nash mentioned him once—some pack in town that keeps to themselves, mostly. He’s a firefighter…Nash surely did training with him for some self-defense classes for Omegas.
There's a sigh, heavy with concern.
"I hope our girl can find a pack. Must be lonely this time of year."
"You don't recall?" Another voice, quieter. "She was in a pack. They were super toxic. Abusive even."
I freeze, my hand tightening on the bookshelf.
Gasps echo through the shop as the others are pulled into the gossip.
"Yeah, I think the Alpha was Kael or something. His pack is well known in the city. Rich. Talented. They can get anything and anyone they want, honestly. It's a shame they threw her out like some rag doll."
I turn away, my jaw tight, anger simmering in my chest.
I hate gossip. Hate it with everything in me.
Gossip ruined my last relationship, spread lies until there was nothing left but ashes and mistrust.
Before I met Nash and Theo. Before I learned what real pack meant.
But this... this isn't idle gossip. This is concern…worry for someone they clearly care about.
Still, I don't want to hear more.
Don't want to know the details of someone's pain without their permission.
I move through the stacks, putting distance between myself and the conversation, and turn down another aisle.
The cozy reads section, based on all the holiday-themed covers and twinkling lights someone's strung up.
Maybe I'll pick up one book. Something light to read tonight when the darkness gets too heavy and sleep won't come.
I'm browsing the shelves, not really paying attention to where I'm walking, when someone crashes into me.
Books go flying. There's a yelp—high-pitched and startled—and my hands move on instinct, reaching out to steady whoever just collided with me.
My fingers close around soft shoulders, and then the scent hits me.
Oh.
Oh no.
Vanilla buttercream. That's the first thing that registers—rich and sweet and impossibly warm, like walking into a bakery where everything is fresh from the oven.
But there's more underneath. Caramel, dark and sticky-sweet, mixing with something that smells like spun sugar at a carnival.
And citrus—bright and clean, cutting through the sweetness like sunshine through clouds.
Snow-kissed citrus, maybe, because there's a crispness to it that makes me think of winter mornings.
The scent is intoxicating. Overwhelming. It wraps around me like a physical thing, sinking into my lungs and making everything else fade into background noise.
Omega. This is an Omega's scent.
And it's the most perfect thing I've ever smelled in my entire life.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The words tumble out in a rush, breathless and flustered. "I wasn't watching where I was going, I was having an existential crisis about book budgets, and I just—"
She looks up at me, and my heart does something complicated in my chest.
Beautiful. She's beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with conventional standards and everything to do with the life radiating from her.
Honey-gold hair with those bright pumpkin-spice orange tips I caught a glimpse of earlier, wild and slightly messy in a way that looks intentional.
Big eyes—some shade between blue and grey, wide and expressive and currently mortified.
A face that's all soft curves and genuine emotion, the kind of face that can't hide what she's feeling even if she tried.
She's wearing an oversized cream sweater with some book pun on it, dark jeans that hug curves that make my mouth go dry, and she's looking at me like I'm either going to yell at her or spontaneously combust.
Reverie. This is Reverie. The girl with the infectious laugh and the dreams about Omega cafes and the past that left scars.
My cock twitches, completely inappropriate and poorly timed, and I have to force myself to focus on being a decent human being instead of whatever primal instinct is currently screaming at me to claim, protect, keep.
Down. Not the time. Absolutely not the time.
"Don't worry about it," I manage to say, surprised my voice comes out steady. I bend down to pick up the books she's dropped, needing to do something with my hands that isn't touching her.
Three books. All holiday romances based on the covers. All featuring Omegas as the main characters.
She was serious about those recommendations.
I straighten up, holding the books, and glance at the covers. "These weren't to your liking?"
She laughs, and the sound does something to my chest. Makes it tighter and looser at the same time, if that's even possible.
"Oh, no! They're amazing. I literally just spent twenty minutes on TikTok Live telling everyone to read them. I just—" She makes this gesture that's probably supposed to convey something but mainly just looks adorable. "I don't have book money like that yet. But I'm manifesting it."
She winks at me.
She actually winks, like we're sharing some private joke, and I have to physically stop myself from smiling like an idiot.
Her fingers brush mine as she takes the books back, and that touch—barely there, innocent, over in a second—sends electricity racing up my arm and straight to places that definitely shouldn't be reacting this strongly to a stranger in a bookshop.
"These are my top three recommendations," she tells me, holding up the stack with renewed enthusiasm.
Her whole face lights up when she talks about books.
"And I'm totally going to read them eventually, so you should too.
Consider it a professional opinion from someone who definitely knows what she's talking about. "
I believe her. God help me, I'd believe anything she said if she kept looking at me like that.
I smile, can't help it.
"I'll take your word for it."
"Good! You should!" She's backing away, and I have the distinct impression she's either trying to escape or fighting the same pull I'm feeling.
"Also, make sure you go to Hazel's cafe on Maple Street and try the new holiday menu.
The gingerbread latte is life-changing. I'm not even exaggerating—it's like drinking Christmas. "
Hazel's cafe. The place her coworkers mentioned. She works there, too, probably.
I need to know her name. No, I obviously know her name…But I need to hear her say it herself.
"What's your name?" I ask, trying to sound casual and probably failing spectacularly.
She spins around—actually spins, her skirt flaring out in a way that shouldn't be as captivating as it is—and calls over her shoulder, "Reverie! I'm on TikTok sometimes. You know, if you're into chaotic book content and aggressive positivity."
Then she giggles—the sound that’s filled with pure joy—and spins away again, disappearing around the corner toward the staff room.
I stand there like an idiot, staring at the empty space where she was, my heart doing things it has no business doing.
What just happened?
Who was that?
And why do I feel like I just got hit by a particularly sweet-scented truck?
I shake my head, trying to clear it, and look down at my empty hands.
The books. She wanted those books but couldn't afford them.
Something about finances, waiting for her next paycheck.
I could buy them for her. It's a small thing. Barely anything, really.
Just three books.
I move through the shop with purpose now, knowing exactly where I'm going. I've been to The Book Nook enough times to know the layout—the cozy reads section is easy to find with all those fairy lights and Christmas decorations.
I find the three books quickly. They're right where she would have returned them, lined up neatly on the shelf. I pull down two copies of each—one set for me, because I'm genuinely curious now, and one set for her.
The hardcover editions.
Special editions with sprayed edges and gorgeous cover art.
Not cheap, but worth it.
She deserves nice things. To have the books she loves without worrying about whether she can afford them.
I carry all six books to the counter, where a young woman with a name tag reading 'Mei' looks up with a professional smile.
"Finding everything alright?" she asks.
"Yes, thank you." I set the books down, separating them into two stacks of three. "Can you put these in separate bags?"
"Sure thing." She starts scanning them, and I see her eyebrows raise slightly at the total. "These are beautiful editions. Someone's going to have a good reading week."
"Actually," I say, keeping my voice casual, "could you give the second bag to Reverie? Tell her it's an early Christmas gift."
Mei pauses mid-scan, looking up at me with sudden interest.
"Reverie? You know her?"
"We just met," I say, which is technically true even if it feels like an understatement. "She recommended these books. Seemed like she really wanted to read them."
Mei's smile turns knowing.
"That's really sweet. She'll love this."
She finishes ringing everything up, and I hand over my card without looking at the total. It doesn't matter. Money from the ranch, money from the small inheritance my grandmother left me—it's just sitting there. Might as well use it for something that makes someone happy.
Mei bags the books carefully, putting mine in one bag and Reverie's set in another. "Should I tell her who they're from?"
"No," I say quickly. Then, softer, "Just the Christmas gift part."
I don't want gratitude. Don't want her to feel obligated. I just want her to have something nice.
Mei nods, understanding in her eyes. "Alright. I'll make sure she gets them."