Page 18 of A Pack of Honey
"Out!" I yell while banging the pots together. There’s a series of high-pitched screeching noises, and then four fat-as-hell raccoons come scurrying out toward the men in boxers.
"Ah!" Luca yells, and the alphas scramble to let the adorable beasts pass. The raccoons scurry into the tree line just beyond the gift shop. I walk back around the tent.
"There's a dumpster with a lid too heavy for animals behind the gift shop. Use it!" I march back up the steps and into the farmhouse, letting the screen door slam behind me.
I open all the windows on the first floor. The day will only get hotter, and the place doesn’t have air conditioning. It never has. Getting the cool air of the morning in before it’s burnt off by the heat is one of the best ways to keep the house cool. After showering, I dress in high-waisted jeans and a button-up shirt and head to the kitchen. It's been a while since I cooked myself breakfast instead of going to pick something up at the Café, or just skipping it altogether. But the nineteen-forties style stove and all my dishes have called me this morning. I want to cook for people in my home again.
I can hear the guys' movement and natural morning sounds in the tent. They haven’t asked to return to the house, and they’ve respected my boundaries.
My phone buzzes.
Craig: Good morning.
My heart drops and then twists, making me think about skipping breakfast. I push it aside. I will not let them affect my life like this. In defiance, more than anything else, I cook. For reasons somewhat out of my control, I make triple recipes. Enough food for an army… or four large alphas. Striding back onto the porch, I find the guys have gotten dressed, and I’m slightly surprised by their choices. There are no suits in sight.
Jess wears a short-sleeve tan shirt that clings to his tattooed biceps and sweat pants that hang loose on his hips, showing the V of his abdomen and a small trail of dark hair that disappears below the drawstring.
Hunt wears a loose, button-up, baby blue shirt with blue jeans. His sleeves are unbuttoned and rolled up his thick forearms. The top is unbuttoned enough to show off toned pecs, and the pastel color beautifully contrasts his dark skin.
Luca wears a long-sleeved white shirt and dark pants, which gives him a slightly professorial quality that sends a thrill up my spine.
And Cole. Cole is the biggest surprise. Of all the alphas in the pack, he’s the one I would've pegged for not having a single casual item in his wardrobe. He comes off as controlled in everything. But he’s wearing a gray short-sleeve, V-neck shirt and dark jeans. The shirt is clinging to his toned chest with all its might, and his ass in those jeans could crack a nut.
I definitely perfume, and before I can hide or try to cover it up, they all stop and look at me. Feral need clear in their eyes. They’ve definitely scented me.
“Like what you see, Little One?” Cole asks, a smirk playing on his lips. I want to either smack or kiss that look off of his face.
I settle for rolling my eyes. “There’s food,” I state simply.
They all look at each other.
“Was that an invitation, Pretty Girl?” Luca asks.
“It's a fact. There’s food. If you don’t want it, I’ll give it to the crew.” I shut the screen door behind me without looking back and start putting the food on the table.
The guys come in shortly after. The seats they find are automatic. I sit at the right hand of the head of the table. Hunt is on my right. Luca sits directly across from me, and Jess sits across from Hunt. Cole sits at the head of the table, and it’s as though we’ve always been sitting here together. It feels so natural. Especially now that they aren’t wearing suits worth more than the table itself. Not that I think their casual clothes are cheap. They just look more like they belong. The rational part of my mind reminds me that it doesn’t change anything, but my traitorous heart flutters.
I pick up my plate, and Cole almost plucks it from my hands. I snatch it back at the last second. His eyes widen, and I know he hadn’t meant to even reach for the plate, but instincts are hard to resist. There are four primary instincts every alpha can’t deny around a scent-sensitive omega. Protecting them, caring for them, purring for them, and feeding them. I know. Mygrandmother was an omega for two alpha mates for fifty-five years. They’d been scent-sensitive, too. I’ve seenexactlywhat alpha instincts demand.
Cole's mouth is set in a firm line, and I see his jaw clench hard, but he doesn’t protest as I scoop my own food. When I’ve filled my plate, the alphas serve themselves.
We eat in taut silence for a while. I wonder if that'll be it and begin to relax when Hunt speaks. “Who’s threatening you, Sunshine?”
That damn nickname again. I wish he’d stop. But I inhale through my nose and let it go.
An enormous part of me wants to snipe at them that food and a scent-sensitive match doesn't mean they're privy to any part of my life. It wants to hold on to my independence and ability to care for everything myself. But a tiny part whispers that I'll burn out if I continue doing everything on my own. Maybe I already have. I feel like I’ve been running on fumes for months. And right now, with this problem they want to discuss… I'm at a loss on what to do. Worse, I'm… scared. Everything I love is threatened, and I don’t know how to stop it.
I’ve been staring down at my food, moving it around on my plate, and trying to get the burning sting from the corners of my eyes, but it’s not going anywhere. When I glance up, my eyes lock with Hunt, and the only thing in his expression is deep concern.
“I…”
Tires against gravel signal the first employees arriving for their morning shift. They park behind the farmhouse to give the paying visitors the good spots. I quickly eat a few more bites and leave the four men sitting around my dining room table looking stressed.
Hunt
MylittleSunshineisbeing eaten alive by stress and fear. I could see it when she looked at me during breakfast. The pack and I have been working on our laptops at the dining room table. During breaks, we explore the Apiary. As we wander through the large barn at the edge of the property where products are made from the hives, it's a wonder. Machines roll out goods, and employees oversee, wrap, and package the products. Visitors get to watch and then buy the products in the gift shop if they like.
Sunny must have a dozen employees in this spot alone. She exudes confidence and poise as she works with them, giving instruction and delegating to various managers. It's like she's a part of the Apiary.
