Page 59 of Talk About… Trouble

It was still so weird to have her back. She was quieter now, more subdued, but almost… hopeful. She’d be quiet then perk up like this, reminding me that I was truly healing.

How could I not embrace Nash’s date after a moment like that?

“Welcome to Coffee Your Way, are you here to make your own fun mixes, or to enjoy a treat?” a bouncy beta asked as she came over, her energy reminding me of a cute puppy. Even her ponytail was swinging as she bounced on her toes.

“Both,” I said. “But starting with the coffee blend.”

“Perfect,” she said, waving us over to a kiosk. She grabbed a few things before passing us over a menu. “You start there and move down the line. You can blend flavors and make custom syrups and drizzles. There are empty bags, containers, whatever you’ll need by each station. Prices are listed on this menu so you know what you’re getting into. There are stickers at each station, you simply put them on this slip and that’s how they ring you up!”

With that explanation she was off, ready to greet the next. I took a breath and flipped open the menu. It was a lot, but I wasn’t overwhelmed by it.

“Devon likes his sweeter than me, but I don’t know how Braxton and Shepherd like theirs,” I admitted. “Or you.”

“How about you start on yours, then we can worry about them. I’ll send out a text but I’d bet that Shepherd is a ‘black coffee’ kind of alpha,” Nash teased, sending off a quick message before snagging a basket to hold our goodies and following behind me.

“And you?”

He scanned the menu, taking in all the flavors before answering. “I’m thinking this chocolate churro blend sounds incredible. We may need to upgrade Shep’s coffee machine, though.”

“Probably,” I agreed. Everything at Harding Farms was a little worn down, but honestly, I loved it. The entire farmhouse and land felt like home. It smelled of us now and the mountains. Sure, there was also a hint of livestock in there, but that wasn’t a deal breaker for me.

For the next thirty minutes, we filled several coffee bags with our blends, labeling them and using the nearby pen to mark names on them. Devon got a carmel blend, Braxton a raspberry white chocolate one, Nash his chocolate churro, Shepherd said to surprise him so I mixed up a spiced mix, and finally got myself one they aptly called death by chocolate, and mixed in a hint of toasted graham cracker for a s’mores twist.

They had plenty of premade syrups and drizzles, so we snagged some of those and made our way to the checkout. The wall behind the register was loaded with handmade mugs among the cute commercially made ones. My eyes landed on a mug tree that had exactly five rungs for mugs.

“I’d like to get that mug tree and get everyone a mug. Start putting a bit of us in the farmhouse,” I said, chewing on my lip to stop myself from offering to pay.

Nash didn’t even bat an eye before he pointed it out. The cashier was patient as we picked out one for each. Not one of them went together but they represented each of us perfectly.

Of course, my stubborn but thoughtful alpha asked her to not say or show the total and simply handed over his card. She didn’t even seem fazed by the request and I let myself stay oblivious.

“It’s killing you to not pay, isn’t it?” he mused as we walked out to put our things in the truck. We opted for coming back after lunch for the treats.

“It did when I added the mugs,” I admitted. “But I was a good little omega and let her alpha spoil her instead.”

I batted my eyelashes at my alpha who rolled his eyes but had a pleased smile on his face. He tugged me close and pressed his lips to mine.

“You know what, omega? I think I’d like to keep you.”

His words filled some of those empty places in my soul, settling there until I felt wanted, desired, and like my heart was full.

“You have a way with words, Nash Whitaker,” I said, kissing him again. He deepened it until I was breathless before wrapping my arm around his and leading me toward the cafe.

“Just think, this is only the beginning.”

Wren

“So, when’s the wedding?” Grace asked as we both walked into the shared apartment. She was trying to look annoyed but couldn’t hide her grin.

“We’re sorry for ghosting, if that helps?” I offered with a wince. “Want the quick version or all the dirty details?”

“Oh, girl, you know I want them all. I’ll order pizza.”

That’s how we ended up sitting around the living room, devouring our weight in pizza and breadsticks, and telling her about my panic attack and how it ended up turning into us finding our entire pack, then waking up to a heat spike.

It had only been a few days of chaos but it felt like weeks.

“Wow, that’s a lot,” she said. “If it makes you feel better I haven’t seen anything about your photo and info leak. I’ve been bouncing around the sites to keep an eye out.”

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