Page 164 of Pack Plus One

“It’s what you deserve,” Caleb says simply.

“Not to mention,” Jude adds, waving his phone, “over two thousand new Instagram followers, largely thanks to Mrs. Finley’s purse offensive, which—despite your objections—has indeed gone viral.”

“Wonderful,” I groan. ”My business success will forever be tied to elderly vigilante justice.“

“There are worse brand associations,” Liam points out.

As if summoned by her newfound infamy, Mrs. Finley appears from the back room where she’s apparently been reorganizing my storage shelves alongside Zoe.

“Your inventory system was abysmal, dear,” she announces. “I’ve categorized everything alphabetically, with a subsection for perishables organized by expiration date.”

“Thank you?” I say. “But you didn’t have to?—”

“Nonsense,” she waves a dismissive hand. “Consider it payment for the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”

She gathers her purse—now elevated to legendary status—and pats my cheek. “You’ve done well, dear. Even without the sage green walls I recommended.”

As she leaves, the mariachi band follows, tipping their sombreros in farewell. They’ve been paid handsomely for their impromptu all-day performance, with a standing invitation to return for “special occasions and emergency alpha intimidation.”

Zoe trails out behind them, eyeing me and the pack before waggling her eyebrows and giving me a not-so-hidden conspiratorial wink.

I can’t help the heat that rises up my neck.

The bakery feels suddenly quiet without them.

“We did it,” I whisper, looking around at my dream made real. “Sweet Omega is officially open.”

“And wildly successful,” Liam adds.

“And Instagram famous,” Jude chimes in.

“And financially viable,” Mason contributes.

“And mine,” I finish, a lump forming in my throat. “All mine.”

Caleb’s arms wrap around me from behind, his chin resting on top of my head. “You did it, Leah.”

I lean back, letting the breath ease from my chest. “I did.”

“Home?” Caleb asks, his arms tightening around me. “There’s something…something we planned for tonight.”

I ease up, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

32

LEAH

“You need to wear the red dress!” Zoe rifles through my closet with the determined efficiency of someone conducting a military operation. The moment I texted her that the pack had something planned for tonight, she’d rerouted straight to my apartment. “The one that makes your ass look like it should be in a museum.”

I peer over her shoulder, watching hangers fly past at alarming speed. “I don’t recall owning anything like that.”

“Trust me,” she mutters, extracting a garment I’d forgotten I owned. “This one.”

The dress in question is red silk, with a neckline that dips just low enough to be interesting without crossing into scandalous territory. I vaguely remember buying it for a catering event that subsequently cancelled, leaving it to languish in the back of my closet for the past two years.

“Are you sure? It seems a bit... much for a regular dinner.”

Zoe looks at me like I’ve suggested wearing sweatpants to a royal coronation. “Honey, from what you’ve told me, this isn’t a ‘regular dinner.’ This is your pack taking you out to celebrate the most successful bakery opening in the history of carbohydrates.”

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