Page 12 of A Pack of Honey
Cole's the last one to choose a charm. He looks through every option, which takes so long that we all start to drift back onto our phones. Finally, he pulls out a charm. It features a heart bracketed by two hands and encircled by a crown.
"A Claddagh charm?" Luca asks. His expression is serious, but also hopeful.
Cole nods and curls a fist around the small charm. I discreetly looked up what in hell a Claddagh is. My phone pulls up a picture of the symbol with a definition below. It's an Irish symbol often worn on rings. Cole's parents had been Irish immigrants, so thatmade sense. I read the definition and my chest squeezes, and I feel infinite pride in my pack leader's decision. It's everything we've all talked about wanting for our pack should we find an omega. Before the series of matchmaking services made us all give up hope.
It's perfect.
Sunny
There'salwayssomuchwork to do at a bee farm—it's a lot like any other farm that way. But on Wednesdays, I have an older couple from town come in to tend the hives and do all the little tasks that can't be put off for a day. It leaves me twiddling my thumbs and stressing out about what I should wear to this NOT-a-date with the Night Pack.
I decide to cook something simple. Rustic food is what I like best anyway. Roasted chicken, potatoes, corn, stuffing, green beans, and apple pie for dessert.
Cooking is what I do to relax, but I hardly get a chance anymore. I just never put aside the time. It's nice to have someone to do it for. That might be why I insisted they come to the farmhouse. And to prove a point. A point that, if I’d let them take me to a fancy restaurant, definitely wouldn't have been seen. It doesn't matter if we're mates. They'recompletelyout of place on a farm, and I can't imagine being elsewhere. This will never work. Best to rip the bandage off fast.
I leave myself a little time while the chicken is finishing up and the rest of the hot dishes are in the upper part of the double oven to go change, do my makeup, and do my hair into a half-updo.
The dress I pick is yellow gingham with slightly puffed sleeves and white buttons up the middle. Why did I choose this dress? It's the only one I own. I don't exactly have a ton of places to wear dresses. The bees certainly don't care. I do my best to curl in the ends of my hair and fluff up my face, framing bangs. I’m never inclined to do makeup since I usually sweat it all off, but I feel compelled to do a little. I can't explain why, even to myself. “My omega made me” is the closest I come. I'd prefer to greet them with my work outfit and a messy bun, but she said no. Omegas are insistant that way. Are they technically a part of our own psyche? Yes. But a deeply primal one that almost feels like a different consciousness within me. It's the same with alphas but not as much with betas. So, I put on some lipstick and mascara and call it a day.
I'm rocking on my porch swing when the car pulls up. I know nothing about cars, but even I know it's an expensive, luxury vehicle. It looks like it cost more than my farmhouse. The four alphas step out, and I can't deny that they each look good enough to eat in their suits. They look up at me on the porch. I quickly get up from the swing and walk to the top of the steps and hope for a breeze to keep them away from the spot where I've definitely just perfumed. They make their way up the steps, and the awkwardness I'm feeling is overpowered by their intense gazes.
I hadn't really looked at the four of them when I yelled at them to get off my lawn, like the grouchy old lady I am deep down inside. Luca, the one I met at the coffee shop, can easily be described as a sexy professor. He sports a hooked nose and rich dark hair. His moss green gaze is piercing, and I feel exposed under it.
"Hi," he says. He's halfway up my steps with the others trailing behind him.
"Hi." My voice is clipped. I feel as irritated with him as I do with his dominant alpha. A strange feeling twists in my gut when I look at him.
Luca takes it upon himself to introduce the rest of his pack, though I already know who they are. Google is an excellent tool allowing second-hand stalking with ease. Especially for such high-profile men. But no amount of internet searching could have prepared me for their scents again. Before, I'd been too shocked and upset to focus on them as individuals. I'd simply been accosted by their delicious, melded scent. Hunt, a man with dark brown skin and almost-golden, honey eyes, smiles at me. He's broader than the rest and just a little shorter. His smile is like sunshine on a cloudless day. So sincere and undisturbed. He smells of clean linen, fresh off the line.
Jess is a burly hulk of a man with light-tanned skin, long brown hair, a much fuller beard than Hunt's, and thick arms that strain under his suit jacket. He doesn't look like he belongs in a suit. He looks like he belongs on a motorcycle, or in a bar fight. But his brown eyes are soft and inviting. His scent is cut grass on a dewy Saturday morning—sweet and fresh.
The last to be introduced is Cole. I don't know if Luca is trying to bury him beneath the rest of the alphas in the pack in hopes I'd forget his rude, aggressive emails, but it doesn't work. Cole is the one who looks like he most belongs in a suit. He appears about the same age as Luca, although he has more grays. He has swept back salt and pepper hair and a neat beard. Though he isn't as broad as Hunt or as tall as Jess, he exudes dominance in the way that only leaders of packs can. His scent is pipe tobacco and leather.
His brows are pinched, and he's looking at me like he cannot be less pleased to be standing on a farm, courting a simple farmer.
Thisis why I had them come here. Get those ridiculous notions out of their head. They need an omega who wants the city, designer clothes, and networking. Not a mate with pollen on her clothes and whose idea of “fancy” extends to one gingham dress. An omega who can't imagine leaving her farm.
I arch an eyebrow at Cole, and he stands a little straighter. Good. Just because I know I'm not right for them, and vice versa, doesn't mean anything is wrong with me. They will respect me, even if they won't bond with me.
"Thank you for having us to your home, and agreeing to meet with us," Cole says. His voice is like thunder across the lake, and I suppress a shiver from racing up my spine.
"Come in," I invite, my voice a low murmur as I move to open the door. But before I can even lay a hand on the handle, Jess springs up the steps, effortlessly pulling it open. For a man of his size, he possesses an undeniable quickness that catches me off guard.
"Thank you," I say softly as I sweep past him, feeling the warmth of his presence linger in the air. He shoots me a crooked grin that could melt ice, letting the door slam shut with a definitive thud behind him and I, forcing the other alphas to open the door for themselves.
I bite back a smile, glancing at Jess just in time to catch the gleam in his eye. He looks far too satisfied with himself, the corners of his mouth curl in that teasing smirk.
We come to the kitchen through the hall and then move into the dining room. My large, rustic, wooden table holds five place settings, but can easily hold ten. It hasn't been that full in a long time. The thought pierces my heart, but I push it aside. Once these alphas are gone, it will be empty again.
Cole
Iamanass.
The words rip through me every time I catch Sunny's glare. When she'd met us on the front porch in that dress, I nearly fell to my knees and begged her forgiveness for how I'd spoken to her these last few months. She looked like the sunshine she was named for, so bright and fiery and hot. Her smooth legs peek out from beneath the skirt and I can't help but imagine wrapping my hands around them and spreading them apart.
She makes me feel like a clown in my suit and tie.
That may be the point. To put us to shame. I had no doubt she was trying to send a message about us as mates. That we're too opposite. Little does Sunny know that she's standing in what is essentially my dream. Living here, in Lakeside Point, with a home and roots and a beautiful life. She's so young, in her twenties. She's the only person listed on the paperwork as the farm's owner. Has she been doing all of this herself? Every bit of fire and steel I've seen in her so far tells me that she can, and is. I bet this Little One can do anything if she decides to. But what aburden to put onto anyone to do alone. Even I ran my business with my pack.
