Page 31 of Forget me Knot
“Dammit!” I roar as we grind to a halt again, missing the light by two cars. “This day sucks.”
My shoulders slump, and I let my head fall back against the headrest while I wait.
I let out a long sigh, adjusting my grip on the steering wheel. I inhale deeply and glare at the flowers I removed from the bin last night and threw into the passenger footwell of my car. Lilies and vanilla. I can’t even smell the roses for her scent covering them. It’s comforting yet maddening, because it’s mixed with allthose questions swirling in my mind. Making a snap decision, I ask my phone to ring Sam.
It dials from its holder on the dash, the sound echoing through the car as I start to move forward when the light turns green.
“Max,” he answers through gritted teeth. “A bit busy. What’s up?”
“Busy with what?”
He snorts. “What is with the third degree?”
“Nothing,” I snap. “I just want to know what you’re doing.”
“Helping George with something over at Lily’s shop.”
Lily. It’s always about Lily lately. “What?”
“Helping George with something over at Lily’s shop,” Sam shouts.
“I heard you the first time, you dick. I mean, what are you helping with?”
There’s a rustle, and I wait while Sam moves about. Then he comes back on the line. “What difference does it make?” he asks. “Is there something you need?”
Is there something I need? How about the two members of my pack not being secretive squirrels with regards to an omega I can’t get out of my head? Hmm? How about that, you fucking prick?
“Max? Do you need anything?”
“Yeah, we need a meeting. The three of us. Tonight, to talk about finding an omega. My mother is on one again and has a list. We can’t let it get that far. Am I making myself clear?”
Sam groans, and I feel like a huge arsehole for doing this, but it’s two birds with one stone. Get my mother off our case and force their hands about Lily. If she is not an option for us as a pack, then I need to know so I can move on and forget about her alluring scent and big green eyes. The rest of her, I daren’t even think about yet.
“Can’t do tonight, pal. I’m on shift.”
“Lunch then.”
“You think we can sort this out in half an hour?” he snickers.
“We can make a start. Tell Jack and meet me at the bank at twelve.”
I hang up before he can reply.
By the time I pull into the car park at the back of the bank, my mood hasn’t improved. I’m wound tighter than a spring, and it’s barely eight in the morning. Fantastic. I grab my things and march inside, ignoring the greetings from everyone I pass. Slinking into my office, I shut the door and slump at my desk. My head is a mess with thoughts, which doesn’t improve when I see a manilla envelope on top of the post pile addressed to me in my mother’s curly handwriting.
“Oh, fuck off,” I growl and frisbee it at the door.
To my horror, the door opens, and the envelope smacks Jamie, my assistant, in the face. Jamie stumbles back, catching the envelope before it falls to the floor. His eyes widen in surprise as he rubs his nose.
“Good morning to you too, Max,” Jamie snaps. “I assume this is something I should be aware of?”
“No,” I grunt, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my temples. “Just my mother being a pain in the arse as usual. What do you need?”
Jamie places the envelope on the edge of my desk, cautiously keeping an eye out for any further flying objects. “Your meeting at ten has been cancelled.”
“Oh, good.”
“Good?”
