Page 69 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

Aimee doesn’t even look at him. Her gaze stays on me, fingers lingering just a second too long. “We were thinking of catching a drive-in movie later,” she says. “You wanna come?”

I clear my throat. “Oh. Yeah. Definitely. What’s playing?”

“No clue.” She shrugs, and her knee bumps mine again. “Something dramatic and low-stakes. I mostly want popcorn and air conditioning and for two alphas to be nice to me for two hours straight.”

“I can be nice,” I offer, nudging her gently with my shoulder. “I’mfamouslynice.”

“I know,” she says softly.

It’s such a quiet answer that I almost miss it, but her hand lingers on my arm, and her scent softens just enough to feel like trust. For a second, the rest of the world—Jace, the puppies, even the faint hum of air conditioning—fades out. It’s just her eyes on mine, and I swear, the strangest thing happens.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t just feel like the sweet one.

I feelwanted.

“Okay,” Jace says. “Movie later. Pack house in an hour.”

“Sounds good.” I stand up and brush off my jeans. “Let me just finish up here and I’ll meet you guys back at home.”

I glance back at Aimee from where she’s still crouched beside the puppy pile, her brown hair falling around her face, smile relaxed and open.

I hold out my hand, and she takes it without hesitation. She gives the sleepy pup in her lap one last gentle scratch before letting me pull her to her feet.

“Don’t be late,” she smiles. Her eyes sparkle as she tilts her head. “I’m in a cuddly mood.”

She walks out with Jace’s arm draped over her shoulder, and I’m left in the middle of the shelter, holding nothing but air and the echo of her voice.

*

The drive-in screen flickers to life just as the sun dips below the horizon, painting the world in soft gold and that weird, dreamy pink you only get toward the end of summer. The movie opens with a dramatic baking montage set to choral music, and Jace snorts.

“We’re really watching two dead pastry chefs fall in love?”

“Romance. Tragedy. Frosting,” Aimee says airily. “Try to keep up.”

Before I can ask what that means, she climbs into the backseat with us. She’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt that keeps slipping off her shoulder, and I clock the way that Jace’s eyes flick to the exposed skin and linger. Her bare thigh presses against mine, and I try not to think about her shorts. Or the fact that they’re barely legal.

“I brought popcorn,” she announces. “And gummy bears for Jace, since he gets cranky when his blood sugar’s low.”

“Cranky?” Jace drawls, peeling open the bag. “I gethungry.There’s a difference. You should see me when I’mactuallycranky.”

“She’d probably enjoy it,” I mumble, already internally spiraling. Her scent is soft and sweet and heady—suppressed, sure, but leaking just enough to fry my brain.

“Would I?” Aimee turns her head, all wide eyes and too-perfect lashes. Then she casually reaches across my lap to grab a handfulof popcorn, pressing even closer. “Is it just me, or is it getting kind of hot in here?”

Jace doesn’t miss a beat. “I thought that was just your pheromones kicking in.”

She giggles. “Guilty.”

Her hand slides onto my thigh, and I forget how to function.

Jace glances over, lazy and smug. “Aw, look. Cam’s glitching.”

“I’m not glitching,” I choke out.

“You’re buffering atbest,” Jace says, then leans around her, eyes glinting. “Want me to kiss him better?”

Aimee hums, clearly delighted. “Maybe later.”

---