Page 7 of Sawyer and the Bookworms

Poor Eric. He’s a Neanderthal, but he’s been a good brother to me.

Only now he’s pushing for me to find a pack and won’t let himself look for one of his own before I am married off.

No pressure.

Adding on to my family’s moves to get me the pack of their dreams, it’s making me jittery. I know what sort of pack they have in mind.

And I’m not sure I’d be happy with that.

But one thing at a time. My girl is here. I’ve made her favorite coffee, pointed her to her favorite genre, and maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to her some more. Get to know her. Make her less scared of me.

No matter what my family has decided for my future.

“Can you make me one of those frothy chai lattes you made for Casey the other day?” Gigi asks, making herself comfortable on a stool behind the bar. “He said it was divine.”

Casey is her pack’s omega and an old friend of mine. Since he got together with Gigi and a pack, I don’t see them as often, but they are happy and that’s so great. A pack is what I’m expected to find, too. In fact, my parents have been pushing for me to meet with a high-end pack looking for an omega, but I?—

“Whoa, you are spacey today.” Gigi leans forward to peer at me like an inquisitive magpie. “Where’s your head at?”

Involuntarily I glance at the back of the café. There she is. Brinlee is still there. I keep glancing her way, afraid she’s already gone.

But she will leave, I remind myself. You should go and, I dunno. Give her your phone number. Ask for her full name.

So you can find her and stalk her on social media? Think that won’t scare her?

“Oh God, Sawyer, forget about the frothy drink.” Gigi leans over the counter, her blue eyes concerned. “Tell me what’s the matter. How can I help?”

“You can’t,” I whisper and then curse myself when she frowns. “Gigi?—”

“Now I know something is wrong.”

“You were fishing for info?” I ask, incredulous.

“Sue me. I’d do anything for my friends. Tell Aunt Gigi what’s wrong.”

“Aunt Gigi.” I snort. I gesture at her pretty, freckled face. “You look so young you should be asked for an ID when you buy booze.”

“Who says I’m not?” She sticks her tongue out at me.

“See? And I’m fine, everything’s fine. Stop being a worrywart.” I grab a tall latte glass from the shelf. “I’ll prepare you a frothy chai that will make you see God, while you tell me your news, deal? I haven’t heard from you in a while. I’ll… shit.”

“What?” Gigi hops off her stool. “What is it?”

But I’m already hurrying around the bar because, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my girl leaving.

“Brinlee, wait!” I race between tables, bumping into chairs, almost tripping over a customer’s foot, reaching her right at the door. “Wait.”

“I have to get to work,” she says, but her smile is muted.

“Oh. Shit, okay. Of course. Look?—”

“I’ll leave you to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfr—? Oh, you mean Gigi? No, wait, she’s not… wait!”

But Brinlee goes without another word, pushing the door open and stepping out—just as a group of customers steps in—and I still haven’t managed to get her phone number or give her mine.

Is it rude to ask her now? It probably is.

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