Page 50 of Pack Nightmare

Landon pulls me into a hug. “Bye, Layla,” he murmurs, cradling my face in his hands and kissing me in that sweet and sultry way that shoots electric tingles across my skin.

“Bye,” I echo, flushed and breathless.

Both boys grin at me once more before sauntering off into the crowd.

My eyes cling to them until they disappear among the festival-goers. Then I turn to Milo.

“I thought we were all hanging out together?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

Milo, always the individual, wouldn’t blend into the crowd if he tried. Instead of what appears to be a common local uniform of jeans and fleece jackets, Milo is wearing a long grey wool coat over black dress pants and shiny leather shoes. It sets off his black hair and enhances his bright blue eyes, and the guy looks like he just stepped off the pages of a magazine in New York.

“Well, we realized that it’s hard for you to feel closer to us as individuals if we’re always with you as the three musketeers. And since you’ve had some alone time with both of them in the last week, we agreed it was my turn.” He presses closer, leaning in to say the last part in a low, sensual tone.

“Oh.” my confusion turns to a flush of pleasure, remembering the one passionate moment I shared with Milo before the world blew up around me. “That sounds… perfect.”

“This way, my lady,” he offers me his arm, but I lace my fingers through his instead, and his casual smile widens, a hint of color reaching his cheeks.

We wander the festival for a while, pausing often to accept the greetings of pack members. Milo takes me to his favorite booths—naturally, we start with a drink from the Painted Moose—and we explore the best Smoky Falls offers.

I came prepared tonight, my purse stuffed with cash so I could patronize as many of the local businesses as possible. I let Milo buy my harvest spice latte, but after that I pay. He doesn’t make a comment as I continue adding bags to the pile, just gently removes each one from my hands as soon as I’ve paid and loops it over his arm. Homemade fudge, fall crafts, honey from small family farms and blackberry jam, handmade soaps… I have no idea what I’ll do with it all, but it feels good to share the wealth this town provides me with those who need it more.

The party is in full swing, a band playing bluegrass for the lively crowd, and I’ve barely visited a fraction of the booths when Milo clears his throat. “Lex, are you having a good time?”

Hearing that name squeezes my heart, but I smile up at him. “Of course, why?”

Color flushes his cheeks again. “Well, I don’t want to drag you away if you’re enjoying it, but I sort of planned something for us to do… alone, tonight.”

My heart thumps in my chest, and my throat is suddenly dry. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean… just when you’re ready to leave here, I don’t want to leave until you get your fill. I know it’s your first time and there’s a lot to see.”

Tingles run up my spine, curiosity about what he could have planned filling me up and dampening the colors and sounds of the festival. Something tells me that if Milo planned it, it’s special.

“I’m ready to go,” I say, almost shyly. I keep remembering when he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me, wondering if that’s about to happen again, soon.

“Excellent. Right this way,” he gestures with the hand laden with my purchases, and we veer away from the town square.

Away from the heat of so many bodies, not to mention fragrant steam from the food sellers, the fall breeze is a good deal sharper, biting at my cheeks. I’m grateful for the heavy cover of my hair now, keeping my neck and ears warm. Milo’s collar is up, but the tips of his ears are red from the cold, and both of our breath appears like ghostly frost in the streetlights. Even my warm coat doesn’t stop the cold from creeping in. I wonder how far we’ll have to walk, even as I realize I don’t know where we’re going. It’s still rather early. Perhaps he made reservations at a restaurant somewhere.

It’s not until he reaches into his pocket and a nearby car beeps, lights flashing, that I know our destination. The trunk on a sleek, gunmetal grey car with blacked-out windows pops open, and Milo deposits my bags inside.

“Allow me,” he passes to the passenger side, opening my door and making sure I’m settled before closing it gently. I sink into the leather seat, heat blasting, and buckle up while he walks around the back, closing the trunk before he climbs in the driver’s seat.

“Milo, is this your car?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah,” he replies. “It’s a couple of years old.”

The interior is spotless, and the car smells like freshly treated leather. “It doesn’t look very old. You take good care of it.”

“Thank you,” he grins, pulling a u-turn in the street and driving away from town center. “The truth is I don’t drive it very often.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s why I assumed you didn’t have a car. You’re always riding with Jared or Landon.”

He shrugs. “I don’t really like to drive, and they do. I prefer to drink my coffee and relax. Plus, I try not to flex on my friends. The car is nice, and I like it, but it was a gift from my parents.”

“What do you mean, you try not to flex on your friends?”

“It’s… a very expensive car, Lex. A bit more spendy than a Chevy pickup, as nice as Jared’s is.”

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