Chapter Five
"Detective Saint, I think we have a problem," I say, stumbling more than my words as I pat my jacket down.
He catches my elbow again. "What's wrong?"
Glancing up at him, I had something to tell him, but I can't remember what it is being this close to him. His sweet, cinnamon scent is making me dizzy in a good way. I know my body is automatically perfuming for him. My buttery popcorn mixed with his is like the perfect sweet to the salty. Nostrils flaring, he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
I lean into him.
"Darci," he murmurs, and I like the way it rumbles coming out.
Then he takes a step backward, ending the moment and helping me remember what I was supposed to be saying. "I don't have my keys. I think maybe they're at the station or in Lawrence's car."
He sighs, but I can see the slight smile on his lips telling me it's not out of annoyance. "Well, let's go check."
I nod and teeter back to the SUV. That's the last thing I remember until my door is being pulled open. Keaton pops his head inside with a grin which I sleepily return. "I lost my keys."
"So it seems," he says, helping me out of my seatbelt. "Want to stay with us tonight?"
Do I? YES! No questions asked.
He helps me out. "Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?"
"I can walk," I tell him as I go to take a step and the ground somehow shifts heading for my face.
"I got you," he chuckles in my ear, picking me up bridal style.
I throw my arms around his hard shoulders. "Nobody's ever carried me before."
"Don't tell Banks that," he mutters. "He'll make it a point to carry you everywhere."
"Would that be a bad thing?" I tease. "This is kind of nice."
I bury my nose into his neck and run it up the side, loving how his smoky campfire scent wraps around me. I must doze off again, because next thing I know, Keaton is setting me on the side of a bed, telling me to sit up for a minute. He walks over to the tall dresser and pulls out a shirt and pair of sweatpants.
"This will be a little big, but better than sleeping in your jeans," he says, walking back over and handing them to me.
When I take them and stare at them for a few seconds, trying to get a grasp on what I'm supposed to be doing with them, he asks, "Do you need help?"
"I don't think so," I tell him, yawning.
"Okay, I'm going to turn around and stay in here just in case," he warns.
I've barely got the energy to strip my jacket off and change my shirt. The jeans I just chuck to the floor and forego the pants. Who sleeps in pants anyway? Crawling under the covers, I tell him that it's okay to turn back around.
He grabs my clothes off the floor. As soon as he lifts my jacket, my keys fall out onto the bed. "Hey! There's my keys! Thank you for finding them."
Chuckling, he picks them up and moves over to put all my things on the dresser. "You're welcome, Darci. I'm going to lock the door so that you feel safer. Sleep well."
I want to tell him thank you. I want to tell him that he doesn't have to lock the door because I feel totally safe with them. More safe than I've ever felt. I want to tell him something else, too, but I don't remember what it is. As soon as my eyes close, I'm dead to the world.
Bright, warm light slowly creeps up my face, leaving me in a half-woke state until it hits my eyes. I throw the blanket over my head to hide from it. The warmth isn't worth the pounding behind my eyelids. I burrow down into my blankets until I'm comfy and surrounded by the scent of a warm fire. I don't even need the sun for the warm and fuzzy feeling. Wait. My bed doesn't smell like this.
Sitting up with the toss of the blanket, I look around in a panic not knowing where I am. Until the night before comes crashing back down on me.
"Oh my god," I groan into my hands. The secondhand embarrassment from my own actions might just be the actual death of me. I drank entirely too much last night. They probably think I'm nuts. And I tried to kiss Saint. Dramatically falling back against a stack of pillows, I'm hit with Keaton's scent again. Taking a deep breath and sucking it down greedily, I realize in the way that it instantly calms me that I've got a serious problem. My omega wants to purr at the thought of lying in his bed. Even worse is the way I grow wet between my legs when I think about him being in here with me. God help us all if Banks was here, too. His possessiveness last night made me feel things I've never felt before. Even through my alcohol-riddled brain.
If I don't get up out of this bed right this second, I'm just going to keep further embarrassing myself because this pack is doing something to me. I'm perfuming almost out of control. Hopping up out of the bed, I facepalm myself for the second time this morning. Even though there's clearly a pair of pants at the end of the bed, I decided not to wear them in a house full of unmated males. Just call me Einstein. I see my things over on the dresser, so I make my way over there.
I've just stripped my shirt off and am standing in nothing other than my bra and panties when there's a soft knock at the door. I panic freeze and forget how to speak. Within a matter of seconds, the door creaks open and Keaton's head pops around the edge. We're caught in a standoff that only lasts for a moment before I let out a squeaking sound, grabbing for my shirt or pants or anything really.
He apologizes profusely as he quickly ducks back out of the door. I get my feet in my pants, only a little too fast. They catch around my ankles and I go crashing to the floor with a loud thump.
"Are you okay?" he asks, voice muffled from the other side of the wooden door.
"I'm fine," I call out, trying to pick myself up with my pants literally around my ankles.
"Are you sure?" he asks again.
"Yeah," I reply, trying to think of something. "My pants fell."
His voice is still a little worried when he says, "It sounded louder than that."
"Umm," I stall, giving up after a second. "Yeah, I was in them."
There's a short pause before a chuckle flows through the door. I can still hear the smile in his voice when he offers, "Breakfast is downstairs if you're hungry. Absolutely no rush, but we can take you home whenever you're ready to go."
"Great, thanks," I tell him from still on my knees, burying my face into the bed after.
"I truly don't get it," I mutter to myself when I hear him walk away and I manage to drag myself off the floor. "I've never been this brazen or clumsy. Well...maybe a little, but what is it about them that makes it worse? And now I'm talking to myself."
I finally manage to get my pants up over my hips and buttoned before pulling on my shirt. Grabbing my jacket, phone, and keys, I duck my head out into the now empty hallway. I look around in awe as I pull Keaton's door closed behind me. The landing I'm on is the second story of their house. There's an entire floor above me, and the way that the hallway is set up is almost like a hotel. There is a banister that blocks the open space in a square leading down to the stairs on the right. The other set of stairs to the left goes up to the third floor. Peeking over the railing, I glance up to see a giant light fixture that could pass for an antique. Looking down, I find sparkling marble on the first floor.
My adventurous omega side wants to go exploring to check out the other floor, but the smell of coffee is flowing up to where I stand in stunned awe. The addiction is stronger than curiosity.
Once I make it to the bottom floor, it's easy enough to lead myself through a comfy, lived-in media space and fancy dining room to find the kitchen. I'd laid my jacket and things on the back of the couch on my way through, which I regret now as I stand empty-handed in the doorway with nothing to do with my hands.
"There's sleeping beauty," Banks teases with a smile.
I throw up a small wave to the room and move to take the seat next to him at the breakfast nook built into the corner. He's in gym shorts and a sleeveless shirt that is showcasing the muscles in his biceps. Both he and Saint, who slides into a seat across from us, are dressed similarly. If I had to guess, I'd say they got in a workout before I even woke up this morning. The fact that their scents feel like they're laced with some kind of drug, I'd bet that I'm right. Henry is already positioned between them, looking like he just stepped out of the shower in a t-shirt and his long, wet hair hanging down past his shoulders. He smiles softly at me, making me feel almost shy when I return it.
Lawrence walks over to the table and sets a plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs down in front of me. I tilt my head back to look up at him. "Thank you."
He gives me that lopsided grin before becoming my knight in coffee-heaven-filled armor, setting a light-brown cup of the liquid beside my plate.
I snatch it up as politely quick as I can, taking a sip and almost moaning with how good it feels going down my throat and hitting my empty belly. "You're my hero and officially my favorite."
A fork clatters to a plate and more than one face is turned to us in surprise, but it's Keaton coming around the counter to take the last empty seat that breaks the silence. "Are we picking favorites? Because I think I should be in the running since I know my bed is the Goldilocks in the house."
I laugh around another drink of coffee. "You're definitely up there, because I slept better than I have in such a long time. I don't think I moved all night."
Which brings me back to the awkward feelings. "I'm sorry about last night. I'm the lightest lightweight of all time when it comes to drinking. That's why I only drink wine. I should've called it quits after one glass. I'm sorry I intruded on your lives."
I can't bring myself to look at Saint, knowing good and damn well that I made a pass at him and got rejected. I can't look at him for my sake and his.
Banks knocks my shoulder with his. "You didn't intrude. We invited you out to have fun. Hopefully you did."
I nod with a soft smile at him.
"Good," he says before grinning. "Besides, I don't think Keaton will be complaining. I doubt he'll ever wash his sheets on that fancy bed of his now."
Covering my lips, I try to hide my smile as they tease him. We get to eating our breakfast. I've just stuffed a bite of pancakes in my mouth when the newspaper laying in the middle of the table catches my eye. Not so much the paper itself, but the name at the top of the article. Henry Upton. The food gets lodged in my throat, and I have a fleeting moment where I think I might choke on it.
Of course, all this does is draw all of their attention back to me as Banks pats my back hard enough to dislodge the wad of pancakes.
I manage to get it swallowed, grabbing the glass of water that Henry hands me and flushing it all the way out of my throat.
"You okay?" Lawrence asks.
"Yeah, sorry," I tell them. "Went down the wrong way."
Banks chuckles. "Dang, girl, you are like a walking hazard. Trying to burn down bars. Choking on breakfast."
I know my face turns red, but their laugh is contagious. I join in laughing with them, because it's true.
When I think no one is watching, I glance back down at the paper, not giving any kind of crap what the article is about. I just want to see the name again. Slowly, my gaze travels over to Henry. He's shaking his head and smiling at Banks. Does he not remember me, or is he pretending? I want to ask him if he recognizes my name, but that would open an entire conversation that I'm not ready to be having with them.
There's only one thing I didn't count on. Detective Saint. He didn't make that title on good looks alone, even though he definitely could've in a heartbeat. He's obviously missed nothing. I can feel his eyes on me, and when I flick mine over to him, I find that I'm right. His mouth is hidden behind a steaming mug of coffee that he holds in both hands, but his eyes say it all. He's got questions that'll need answered. Probably sooner rather than later, too. The longer we stare at each other, the more silence starts to creep in at the table. Lawrence clears his throat, much like he did in the car last night, breaking the spell.
I drop my eyes to my plate in submission and keep them there until the end of breakfast, managing only a few more bites. I seem to have lost my appetite, which is something because I was starving.
Lawrence squeezes my thigh under the table. "You full?"
Peeking up at him, I nod quickly, and his eyebrows pull down slightly with the frown that's starting to show. He picks up my fork and stabs a couple bites of food, slathering it in syrup like I'd been doing before and offering it to me. Who am I kidding? I'm not going to turn down sugary goodness offered by a gorgeous guy. Would you?
While he feeds me a few more bites, I admire the way he's got his blond hair pulled back into a bun-like thing at the back of his neck. It accents his sharp jawline and slender neck that it's normally hiding. He notices me checking him out, and he gives me a smile, offering another bite.
The others have picked back up conversation, completely ignoring the fact that I'm being hand fed like a baby. It almost feels like we're in our own little world. As we get down to the last several bites, I sit back, pressing my back into my chair and rub my belly. "That's it. I really can't take anymore."
His reply is handing me my coffee. Okay, fine. There's always room for that.
I'm relaxed in my chair, full enough to sleep again, as I listen to their easy conversation. For three of them to have such strenuous jobs, the atmosphere around them is chill and calm. They're discussing Henry's latest article, while I studiously avoid eye contact with Saint, when I first hear the small scratching. At first, I think it's coming from the window behind me, but when I turn to look, there's nothing there.
Keaton chuckles across the table. "Want to meet one more part of our pack?"
More? I thought it was just the five of them...
"Sure," I tell him, trusting him fully with whatever he's about to show me.