Page 12 of Pack Coffey

"And you're gorgeous," Lawrence adds from behind us. "They'd be stupid not to try."

Banks stops a few steps from the door and spins on his heel. "They'd be stupidtotry."

Someone please tell me why I get that giddy feeling in my belly again. It hits even lower still as he keeps his focus on me like he did in the car. And just like in the car, I feel like I'm frozen to the spot and can't move. He is the one who breaks the spell by flicking his gaze over to Saint and giving him one jerk of a nod.

Then he turns to where Keaton is now reaching, leaving me to look to Saint for answers. All I get is a thin-lipped smile. Okay, fine. Keep your secrets. He should know enough about me to know that I'm damn good at research and always get my answers.

Of course, all of that flies out of my head the moment we walk into the very crowded, very loud bar. There are peoplemilling about everywhere. Some of them are sitting at the bar, arguing about sports that are playing on the televisions. Some are over playing pool with stacks of money on the table. There are a few standing tables spotted around, and they're crowded, too. Booths line the wall, and there are a few of those open. But Keaton leads us over to a bigger table on the side that sits between one row of booths and the bar.

Surprisingly, there isn't anyone sitting at it. For the place to be so full, the ambiance is actually nice. There are lit candles on all of the tables, and it's not rowdy. Majority of the people are all in some form of first responder clothing. Mostly t-shirts like Keaton and Banks are wearing. I'd say that has a lot to do with it.

The waitress comes over asking what we'll be having. We all order drinks except Lawrence and Saint because they're driving. When the drinking age went into legal battle two years ago, people saying that it wasn't right to be old enough to fight in a war for their country but not old enough to drink, it ultimately got moved back down to eighteen. Something my few friends in high school took advantage of. I never was a fan, except for a good glass of white wine, which is what I order. None of them judge me or even look at me funny like my friends used to.

It's easy fitting in with this pack. Except, of course, when the conversation turns to me and my life. In the midst of explaining that I'm not an only child, I almost tip my glass of wine over. I catch it, but the candle next to it isn't so lucky. My hand just barely grazes it, but it's enough to send it flopping over. The napkin sitting beside it instantly catches on fire. There's absolutely no panic at the table as Saint snaps a hand out to pick the candle back up just as Banks tosses his beer on the napkin. In a matter of half a second, the only evidence it even happened is a slightly singed napkin and Bank's empty cup.

Banks laughs and teases, "You're going to burn the place down."

I'm mortified, trying to apologize. Lawrence slides his hand on top of my thigh and gives it a reassuring squeeze. It calms me enough to make light of the situation. "Well, I guess it's a good thing we've got some pretty good-looking firemen here to save everyone from my clumsiness."

Banks leans his chair back on two legs and lightly elbows Keaton, "Hear that? She thinks we're good looking."

God help me, I don't know why I say it, but I do. "Who said I was talking about you guys?"

His chair slams back down, making my heart skip a beat. Or maybe it's because of how he's watching me like a mouse caught in a cat trap. They all burst out laughing, including Banks, but his gaze is possessive and says he'd love the challenge.

Feeling brazen now that the wine is kicking in, I lift an eyebrow at him, promising him one.

A loud cheer at the bar breaks the tension at the table, and I take the chance to escape. "Where's the restroom?"

"It's around the corner right there," Keaton offers, pointing to the back wall and starting to get out of his seat.

"Stay," I tell him, and then to multiple protests that begin. "It's literally within eyesight. I will survive twenty steps there and back."

Wihtout waiting for them to reply, I get up and leave. Once I'm done in the stall, I move to the sink to wash my hands. There's a tall woman with long, blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail at the one next to mine who smells like she's having more than wine and possibly been at it a while.

"Wow," she slurs, turning to face me as her nostrils flare. "You sure do smell pretty. What's a gorgeous unmated omega like you doing here tonight? You come with someone?"

"Yeah," I tell her, slightly nervous, having scented her alpha underneath the alcohol. I figure my best bet is throwingout names that she might know. "Saint Coffey. Banks and Keaton."

Her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open before she lets out a giggle that she tries to cover with her hand. "I'm sorry. You just caught me off guard. I didn't know their pack was looking to settle down. Even more surprised they let you come in here alone. They're known to be...uptight."

For my own reasons, I take personal offense to her speaking ill of their pack. I don't like it more than a simple slight. It makes me angry in a place deep down inside. "How about you mind your business and not worry about it."

I step around her and head for the door with her drunken giggles at my back. "I can see why they like you."

The encounter leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and unfortunately doesn't end there. As soon as I step out of the room, I run straight into another alpha. This one a man not wearing any discernible affiliate clothing.

He catches me with hands on my shoulders. "Woah there, filly."

"If you want to keep those hands, Ben, I suggest you remove them," a voice all but growls behind the man.

As he does as he's commanded and steps to the side, Henry comes into view, and I make a dash for him. He throws an arm around my shoulders, covering the scent the other alpha left behind.

"I'm sorry, Henry," the man apologizes. "No harm, no foul. We crashed into each other is all."

Henry motions with his chin toward the hall leading back out into the bar. Ben wastes no time at all rushing past us, giving us so much berth that he's hugging the wall.

"Sorry, Darci," Henry apologizes, running his hands across my shoulders again. "These are mostly good people. They just aren't used to having a perfuming omega under their noseswhile being intoxicated. Want to leave?"

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