Page 22 of Pack Plus One

Leah shakes her head, but there’s a reluctant smile playing on her lips. “Let’s just say there’s a reason I’m opening a bakery and he’s... well, not.”

“Creative differences?” Mason suggests.

“Creative inability,” she corrects. “The man once burned water.”

We all laugh at that, and her shoulders relax just slightly.

The conversation shifts to safer topics after that. I’m about to ask more about her bakery when a server approaches our table with a bottle of champagne.

“Compliments of the groom,” she announces, presenting the bottle with a flourish.

A heavy silence falls over our table. The label faces directly toward Leah. It’s a particular vintage I recognize immediately. Expensive, but more importantly, specific. The kind of specific that suggests a shared history.

Leah’s face drains of color. “Thank you,” she says stiffly. “But we’re fine with what we have.”

The server hesitates, clearly caught in an awkward position. “The groom insisted. He said to tell you it’s the ‘2019 vintage you enjoyed in Napa.’”

What. The fuck.

I have to bite back a snarl.

Jude’s eyebrows shoot up, and Mason straightens almost imperceptibly in his seat. Liam’s usual calm expression hardens just slightly at the edges.

“We’re fine,” I repeat firmly, meeting the server’s eyes. “Please thank the groom for his... thoughtfulness, but we’ll pass.”

After the server retreats, Leah stares at her plate, her scent spiking with a complex mix of embarrassment and anger.

“Sorry about that,” she finally says. “That was...”

“A power play,” Mason finishes for her, his voice quiet but certain.

“A pathetic one,” Jude adds, deliberately loud enough to be heard at nearby tables.

Leah laughs, though it sounds slightly forced. “It’s the same one he’d ordered at dinner the night he broke up with me. He knows I hate that champagne. Too sweet.”

“What an ass,” Liam says with bluntness that’s unusual for him.

I watch her carefully, noting how she’s recovered her composure with impressive speed. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she says. But her face drops.

I shoot a glare at the head table, only to find that shitfaced idiot of her ex smirking. Fucking bastard. When my gaze shifts back to my pack, they’re all equally glaring at him, too. Good. We’re all on the same page.

I turn to Leah, hoping I can find the right words to make her feel better when I see something unexpected. The dejected look that had come over her face has transformed into something else. Her shoulders stiffen as her jaw tightens.

She lifts her head, eyes unreadable. “I think I suddenly need to visit the dessert table. Care to escort me? It’s right past the head table.”

A slow smile spreads across my face as I understand her intention. “It would be my pleasure.”

As we stand, Jude raises his water glass in a mock toast. “To pettiness. The underrated virtue.”

“My favorite kind of spite,” Mason agrees with a rare smile.

I offer Leah my arm, and she takes it, her touch sending an unexpected jolt through me. We make our way toward the elaborate dessert display, deliberately taking a path that leads us right past Eric, his pack, and his new bride.

“Don’t look at him,” I murmur close to her ear. “Let him look at you.”

She nods almost imperceptibly, then turns her face up to mine with a smile so genuine it momentarily steals my breath. “You’re good at this game,” she says, just loud enough not to be overheard.

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