Page 1 of The Alpha's Chosen Outcast

Chapter 1

HEATHER

I am so fucking happy that Jerry talked me into getting a dozen donuts instead of buying the two I wanted the other day. I’m walking to work just like I always do. Walking is how I get everywhere.

This body can afford to eat a couple of donuts for breakfast every day. Besides, it’s not like anyone is coming around to see what jiggles under my clothes anyway.

The walk to the bridal shop where I work only takes about fifteen minutes, but it’s still a good two miles at a decent pace. I’m used to running under the full moon for much greater distances than that. But it’s been a while.

As I lock the door to my little cottage—graciously rented to me by my boss—I try not to drop the donut I’m holding on the front door mat.

I’m running late, so it’s a donut-on-the-go kind of day. Juggling a mug of coffee, too, I have no choice but to cram the donut in my mouth.

Swallowing, I turn and take in the smell of autumn and the mountains mingling with my coffee. It’s a crisp October morning in the tiny mountain town I’ve lived in for the past five years.

I still can’t get the hang of how fresh the air is here compared to the oppressive city air where I came from.

The walk is over before I know it, and I unlock the shop to start the opening duties. Jessie gave me her trust with the shop far sooner than I ever imagined she would. I’d only been working here a couple of months when she first gave me the keys.

I was even more surprised at that than I was when she rented me the cottage. With utilities and internet included, it was only a couple hundred a month. I’m still as grateful today as I was five years ago for that.

I’ve always loved to sew and craft beautiful things with unique designs. For years, that manifested in upcycled thrift store items. I still do that, but I’ve since expanded my skills to fashioning wedding dresses.

The designs at Jessie’s are famous. She’s taught me so much, and I’ve even gotten to utilize those skills in my own projects.

There’s one really great thrift store in town, and they get stuff from all over the country, so it’s a pretty nice selection—just another pleasant surprise this little town had to offer.

Once I open up the store, I start in on the newest dress order for a bride in Chicago who contracted us a few months ago. It’s my design, but Jessie’s name will be on it, which I don’t mind at all.

I’m not looking for fame here or anywhere else. “Cauley Designs” will most likely never be a household name. I’m good with that, too.

Jessie and the senior seamstress, Gretta, come in right before lunch. Jessie walks around the dress form where the dress I’m working on is displayed. Her thumb and forefinger frame her chin as she scrutinizes my work.

“I’ve taught you well, Heather.”

She nods at the dress, nods at me, and walks away. Gretta looks over the dress, too, and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Dear, you’ve come such a long way from when you first walked into this shop. Don’t let anyone try to take credit for that hard work.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, Gretta. Jessie’s done a lot for me, and she’s inspired me too. I’m fine with feeding her ego in exchange.” I wink.

“Well, you’re a better woman than me.”

“I doubt that.”

Gretta sits down slowly and starts sorting through patterns on the table. She’s been gluing them to cardstock and cataloging them for a couple of weeks now.

No one will say it, but her hands aren’t what they used to be. But she helped Jessie build this store from the ground up. If Gretta wants to sort patterns, that’s what she gets to do.

Jessie is already in her office. She hardly does any designing anymore, preferring to handle the marketing aspect of the business.

“Why don’t you go take your lunch now, Heather,” Gretta says. “I’m sure I saw Samantha out there waiting for you.”

“She’s here already?” I ask, turning back to Gretta. “You’re sure?”

“I’d know that cherry red hair anywhere!”

“Yep, that’s definitely Samantha.” I smile.

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