Page 7 of A Pack of Cozy

The book I'm looking at is a children's picture book. A really popular one, actually. The cover shows a train driven by a monkey and all his friends. However, when I try to open the book, the pages trail strings of green goo. Every page has the stuff on it.

I take a deep breath. I've just told the mother that we have to charge her for the book, and she has the audacity to ask me why. I explain the damages, forcing myself to stay calm despite my mounting frustration.

By the time the conversation ends, she hasn't paid and stomps away, muttering something about stupid omegas not remembering their place.

It's the first aggression I've experienced since I moved, and I'll admit it rattles me. So I put a note on her account about the fee, knowing she probably won't ever come back in and pay, and then I toss the book in the trash. The Library's budget doesn't have the funds to replace it. I hope I'll find it at a secondhand shop or online thrift store.

It's been a disaster of a day. I've already dealt with an alpha woman who insisted we fax her documents, but she didn't have a number to fax them to, and no fax was listed on the website she gave us. She blamed us and stomped out. Then there was a teenage boy who didn't understand why he couldn't get an X-rated webpage up on our computers (thank god for firewalls), and then a toddler came in and took a dump in the middle of the children's section. This was discovered when the smell wafted up to the front counter. The mother left before anyone realized what had happened.

The only other employee in the Library today is Nessa, the wiry omega library page who was never seen without earbuds, listening to music so loud that I have to tap on her shoulder just to make sure she hears me.

I put my face in my hands and take a deep breath in and out through my nose to keep from screaming. Unfortunately my phone starts buzzing. The caller ID flashes my mothers name. I'm at work so I send it to voicemail.

Closing time doesn't come soon enough. When locking the Library doors, I feel like I've lived lifetimes. My stomach grumbles, and, with a sinking feeling, I suddenly realize that I'd eaten my last personal microwave meal yesterday. Tomorrow is my day off, and I plan to shop, but I have nothing to eat tonight. There are no restaurants in town besides the Café, which closes at two. The bright neon sign for Dandy Stuff shines up the street from the Library. Did Winnie mention that they sell food in the off-season? I can't remember.

A tiny bell tinkles as I stomp into the shop, trying to shake off the snow from my feet. Two sets of eyes glance up from the front counter when I enter, and both faces immediately break into wide grins.

"Hey! Cali!" Clara calls, her exuberance evident. At first, it made me a bit uncomfortable how excited she always was to see me, but I eventually realized her excitement at seeing people, including me, is genuine. Winnie, on the other hand, is more reserved and gives a cheerful little wave.

"I'm so glad you're still open," I sigh as I approach the counter. "I'm out of food and was hoping you might sell some." As I look around, my heart sinks. There's no food here. There's a section with a rustic sign readingGeneral Store, featuring lots of everyday items for around the house, but no food. There's a small corner that resembles a vintage ice cream parlor. A big neon pink sign in cursive readsgelato.

"I'm so sorry," Winnie says. "I don't sell food. A small convenience store, just off Route 22, does. But it closes at five during the off-season."

I groan. Everything closes at five in Lakeside Point during the off-season. Actually, in the entire Peninsula. The winter months are not a time for businesses to stay open. I consider eating gelato for dinner as my stomach grumbles again. It was so loud that both women turn to look at me in shock. My whole face feels hot.

"Okay, that cannot stand," Clara declares.

"Yeah, I really don't want to read about how the monster in your belly ate you in your sleep," Winnie jokes.

"But if the only grocery store is closed..." I trail off.

Clara holds up a key as though it can solve all our problems, a wide grin spreading across her face, "To the Café!"

With that, Winnie turns off the lights and grabs her key to lock up on the way out.

"Normally, I'd just invite you over for dinner at my place, but I'm really behind on my chapters and can't afford to be distracted tonight," Clara says. She slides her key into the front door of the Evergreen Café, and we step inside. The scents of coffee, cinnamon, vanilla, and wood smoke welcome me. The aromas are so delectable that my stomach grumbles again. I've never noticed such intense smells before. I must be hungrier than I thought.

"And I'd also invite you to dinner," Winnie says, "but my roommates kind of territorial." We all chuckle, but I can't shake the feeling that this was questionable.

"Are you sure it's okay for us to do this?" I ask.

"Oh yeah," Clara assures me. "Bax, is my cousin. He's part of the Evergreen Pack who own this Café. I come in and out all the time. Sometimes for midnight snacks when I'm in a writing fever dream and can't be bothered. You just pick out what you like, and I'll write it down and ring it up as tomorrow's sale."

"Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver."

She shrugs. "We can't have friends starving to death. I'm not a murder mystery writer, so it would do nothing for my process," she teases.

We leave after I've picked out what I want, four different pasties, stuffed with lamb, chicken, beef and a vegetables. Pasties are just the Michigan name for handheld meat or vegetable pies. Clara locks the door behind us. "Are you sure you'll be okay getting home?" Winnie asks.

"Yeah, the roads shouldn't be too bad." It stopped snowing around noon, though it was supposed to start up again tomorrow.

We hug goodbye, something I'm not used to, and do exceptionally awkwardly. We laugh it off softly as we pull apart. Clara heads up the enclosed stairs to her warm, inviting apartment, the glow from her windows spilling onto the street. Winnie strolls down the street, twinkle lights dancing gently above her, casting a magical glow over the charming houses on the edge of town. I go to where I'd parked my car near the tranquil lake. The frozen waters twinkle under the starlit sky and glowing moon. The air is crisp, filled with the sweet scent of pine and snow.

Bax

IwalkintotheCafé and stop dead in my tracks. Petrichor. The intoxicating smell of rain, the earth, and the wind. It engulfs me, and a heat pummels my insides. The aroma is so rich and primal that a growl slips out of my throat. I've never encountered a scent like this before, and the absence of an attached omega drives me feral. The scent is fading fast, slipping away like water down a stream, but I crave it with an intensity that makes my heart race. The omega hasn't been here for hours, yet their lingering essence ravages my senses, a call that leaves me aching for more and desperate for the source.

My cock is already half hard just at the residual scent of them. How? How howhow? A growl rumbles in my chest, a deep, primal sound that echoes the chaos inside me. The beta girl we hired to run the register darts into the back room, fear written all over her face. Who could blame her? My alpha fury is palpable. Damn Seth for refusing to install security cameras. I've asked him repeatedly, but he brushes it off like some mundane detail. Now, we're left in the dark, fumbling blindly while I'm consumed by the need to know what our pack omega looks like. It's the same earth and storm scent that Connor described. And it infuriates me that I feel so vulnerable, so exposed. My heart races with restless anxiety that wrecks my insides.

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