Page 3 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
Every omega wanting to join the regular workforce must take extra-strength suppressants—federal law, for "our protection." I’ve been on the maximum legal dose for years, ever since I landed my first job. Before that, I’d taken the regular strength ones since my omega designation manifested at fifteen.
Most omegas will go off of them occasionally for their heats, but I’ve always been more focused on my career; not many omegas make it to my level in the workforce before they pack up and start families.
Since fleeing the city, I’ve added the scent patch to my regimen for extra security and sanity. I don’t need anyone figuring out my designation or identity, lest it get back tohim.The combination should make me virtually undetectable and immune to alpha pheromones. But right now, with Rowan standing so close, my body is responding in ways it shouldn’t.
Only a dominant alpha could have such a potent scent. That or my anxiety must be affecting the suppressants’ effectiveness. Stress hormones can do that; it was in the fine print of the medication pamphlet I’d memorized.
I’ll need to add a second patch tomorrow.
“Coffee?” Rowan asks, already moving toward the kitchen. “You’ve had a long drive.”
“Yes, please.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel, which I count as a win.
He pours from a carafe into a mug that saysHarvest Home Farmin cursive letters, then slides it across the island counter toward me, without coming too close, which I appreciate.
I wrap my fingers around it—the warmth seeping into my perpetually cold hands—and inhale deeply; the delicious aroma briefly covers the alpha’s scent, and helps to calm my nerves.
“So,” he says, leaning against the counter. “In person at last.”
I take a sip to avoid responding immediately. The coffee is good, rich, and strong.
“Thank you for the opportunity,” I finally say. “I’m looking forward to helping with your social media presence.”
His mouth quirks slightly at one corner, not quite a smile. “We need it. My brother Theo is convinced we need to ‘expand our digital footprint’ or whatever he calls it. Says the younger crowd won’t come unless we’re on all the platforms.”
“He’s not wrong,” I say, immediately wondering if I’ve overstepped. But Rowan just nods thoughtfully.
I catch myself staring and quickly look back down at my coffee.
“Marketing was never my strong suit. I handle the financial and business side of the farm, Theo does events and staffing, and Liam manages the animals and maintenance.” He takes a swallow of his coffee. “Between the three of us, we keep things running, but none of us have time to post… whatever it is people want to see.”
“Pumpkin patch content is very popular in the fall,” I tell him, feeling firmer when discussing work. “People love the aesthetic—the colors, the activities. If you’re offering hayrides, mazes, cider, those are all things that photograph well. And with the right hashtags—”
A loud BANG from somewhere outside makes me jump. Coffee sloshes over the rim of my mug, scalding my fingers. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I’m halfway to the door with myAlpha-Awaygripped tightly in my hand before I even realize I’ve moved.
“Just Liam,” Rowan says calmly, not moving from his spot. “Probably fixing something on the tractor again. He gets frustrated when machinery doesn’t cooperate.”
I freeze, suddenly aware of how I must look. I release the canister back into my bag without revealing my hand.
Carrying Omega Guard spray would be a dead giveaway.
Heat crawls up my neck as I force myself to breathe normally. I unclench my fingers from the mug handle as hot coffee trickles down my hand.
“Sorry,” I mumble, eyes fixed on the floor. “Startled me.”
When I finally look up, Rowan’s gaze feels too perceptive, too knowing. There’s something in the way he watches me that makes my heart speed up.
“No need to apologize,” he says quietly. He reaches for a dish towel and offers it to me without comment. I take it, careful not to let our fingers brush, and wipe the coffee from my hand.
The silence stretches between us.
“Let me show you around,” he says, setting his mug down. “You should see what you’ll be working with.”
I follow him outside, keeping a careful distance as he points out the various attractions: the pumpkin patch, the apple orchard, the maze still being assembled, the area where they’ll set up the hay bale slide, and a petting zoo.
“We open to the public in two weeks,” he explains. “Weekends only at first, then daily as we get closer to Halloween. You’ll have time to settle in and get some preliminary content on our accounts before the crowds arrive.”
As we walk, the staff, mostly betas from what I can tell, naturally defer to him. They nod respectfully as we pass and wait for his acknowledgment before returning to their tasks.
