Page 13 of A Pack of Honey
We sit down for this dinner. This delicious fucking meal that I don't deserve because I've been a complete dick. True, I'd thought I was talking to some middle-aged farmer—maybe an alpha—just too stubborn to see a good deal. Just because that's what I thought didn't make my persistence, or rudeness, more excusable.
Being here now, seeing how fiercely Sunny protects her farm, and how much love she's put into it, I can see why money wouldn't be a good enough reason to give it up. Things are a lot different in reality than they are on paper. Somewhere along the way, I'd lost that.
We keep catching each other's eyes while the food is passed around. Sunny doesn't drop my gaze, and I can't tell if it's challenge or curiosity. Maybe both. She smells like honey and tea. It makes my mouth water and my cock hard in my pants. Thank god we're sitting. But the tea is bitter. Like it's been steeped too long. I don't think that's her usual scent. I think that's the scent of stress for her. Although I can't say for sure since that's how her scent has been since we met her. Goddamnit.
I need to fix this, but how?
I touch the box containing the charm bracelet in my pocket. Would now be a good time? I glance at her and then let my hand drop. The anger in her eyes tells me it won't be well received yet. Self-loathing boils in my gut. Have I fucked this courting—this courting that my pack needs so badly—before it’s even started?
Maybe. The thought guts me.
I stab the chicken on my plate. It's like ash in my mouth even though I know, logically, it's the best damn chicken I've ever eaten. With the omega looking at me like that, nothing's enjoyable. When Luca and I started a pack in college, wevowed to become more successful than our upbringing. With my investments and his artistic abilities, we've succeeded. Hunt’s interiors and Jess's marketing skills have added to that success. If I fuck up a courting with our scent-sensitive omega, our mate, I may as well have destroyed the last ten years of success. She's that important to our pack. So, instead of wallowing in self-pity, I begin forming a plan.
Luca
We'reroyallyfucked.
First off, suits? True, we plan on having a business meeting after this, but for fucks sakes, I don't think we can clash with Sunny's life any less. She's so sweet and so cute with how she glares at all of us. I’m meant to feel intimidated, but all I can think about is how much I want to trace my fingers over that adorable little crinkle on her nose.
I suspect that our Sweet Girl planned for it to be this much of a trainwreck. She wants us to see how much we don't fit into her life. How she talked about this town in the Café really slams home how much she loves this place. I don't think she sees us, a corporate pack from the city, fitting into it at all. She's given up on us even before giving us a chance.
That won't do. We have to salvage this. I don't know how to fit our two worlds together, but I'm not giving up before I've started. Unfortunately, my dominant alpha doesn't feel the same. He looks as resigned as Sunny. Both are picking at their food, and neither is making eye contact.
"This food is so good," Jess says, really tucking into his plate, oblivious to the tension going on around us. Bless that boy, but social intuition isn't his strong suit. “Thank you so much for this. Do you like to cook?"
I want to groan, but Sunny actually perks up a bit.
"I do like to cook when I can,” she says. “I don't get a lot of time for it."
He nods. I'm not letting the conversation drop again.
"I saw you had some employees when we were here last,” I say. “Do you get some time off at least?"
She hums on a bite. "Technically, this place could probably run fairly smoothly without me for a while if I wanted to take the time off. But there's always so much to do that it doesn't really occur to me to. I don't know what I'd do with myself." The admission seems to surprise her because she takes another big bite, precluding more information.
Cole is still picking at his plate, and I want to kick him. He's the dominant alpha of this pack. He should be leading the charge to woo Sunny, but he seems to have retreated into his most brooding self. I'll have to take up the mantle as the next most dominant.
"Miss Howard," I begin.
"Sunny," she cuts in. "I'm pretty sure scent sensitivity gets you into first name territory." Her face is calm, giving none of her emotions away. The flirty, happy girl from the Café is nowhere to be seen. I tilt my head to peer across the table at her. To her credit, she doesn't look away.
I swallow and try again. "Sunny—"
But at that moment the front door slams open. We're instantly on our feet, growling. A bald beta man in a t-shirt and ripped jeans comes barreling through the door.
"Sean, what is it?" Sunny asks.
"Vandals again—at the back acre!" the man wheezes urgently, his eyes wide with panic. Without hesitation, Sunny sprints from the room, bursting through the front door.
Sunny
Ihoisttheskirtof my dress and run. My bare feet slap against the wooden stairs of my porch and then out into the soft grass of the meadow. I can hear the pounding of more feet behind me, maybe Sean, maybe the Night Pack. Past the gift shop and picnic area. Past the beehives and back into a more secluded part of the property that stores some of our out-of-season items like Christmas decor and Halloween signs. It also holds a lot of our inventory, like jars for honey, cooking pans, and more, all stored in a big pole barn.
I veer around to where Sean's sister Sally is standing. On the broad side of the pole barn is written "Get out cunt” in big, angry, red spray paint. The padlock on the barn is broken, and I can see the mess of broken inventory from where I've stopped several feet away. I start to move forward to assess the situation when an arm lands around my waist to stop me.
The arm might have been made of steel for the thick muscle cording it, but I still push at it, trying to get away. I can't think through the angry buzzing in my ears.
"Shhh, I'm not trying to hurt you. There's glass, Little One." Cole’s voice is a low rumble that should comfort me, but it only adds to the pit opening in my stomach. The scent of leather and smoke wraps around me, but it feels suffocating, much like the reality I’m facing. I force myself to glance down, and there it is—broken glass, glittering like shards of my shattered life, lying in wait just inches from my bare feet. A small drop of water splatters onto the pieces, my tears. Each one a testament to the fear that has burrowed deep within me.
