Page 15 of Pack Coffey

"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 anentire 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 myknight 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 chokeon 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."

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