Page 46 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
My body responds instantly; nipples tighten, a rush of warmth between my thighs.
There’s an awkward moment where no one seems to know what to do: shake hands? Hug? High-five?
“Everyone, sit! Food’s getting cold, and I didn’t slave over a hot stove all day for lukewarm pot roast.”
Theo’s teasing helps ease the awkwardness as we take our seats. I find myself beside Theo with Liam and Rowan across from me. The arrangement feels deliberate—the beta beside me as a buffer, the two alphas positioned where they can see me but not crowd me. Their subtle thoughtfulness is something I’ve never experienced before. Usually, omegas are the ones who need to make accommodations for everyone around them.
“Wine?” Rowan offers, already reaching for the bottle.
“Please,” I accept, hoping it might help calm the flutter in my stomach and the persistent throb between my thighs. Beingsurrounded by their combined scents makes my head swim pleasantly, my body humming with awareness.
“The farm reopens tomorrow,” Theo says, passing me the bread basket. “We’re expecting a good crowd—the weather forecast is perfect, and the pumpkins are at their peak.”
“I’m ready. I’ve been going stir-crazy in that cottage.”
“Only if you feel up to it,” Rowan says, his eyes meeting mine across the table. The intensity of his gaze makes my inner omega want to bare my neck in submission, an urge I haven’t felt since… well, ever.
“I want to,” I insist. “I miss the work. And I have ideas for some special content around the harvest moon next week.”
“We’ve managed the social media in your absence, but nothing like what you do,” Rowan continues.
“I saw,” I say, offering a small smile. “The lighting in those pumpkin photos was… interesting.”
Liam chuckles at this, the sound warming me more than the wine. “Told you they were terrible,” he says to Rowan.
“Hey, I tried,” Rowan protests, but there’s amusement in his eyes.
“The farm needs your touch,” Theo says.
As we eat, the initial awkwardness gradually melts away. The food is delicious; the conversation flows more naturally, and I relax into their company. Theo tells stories that make me laugh, his hand occasionally brushing mine as he gestures. Rowan asks thoughtful questions about my social media plans, his eyes never leaving my face for long. And Liam, though quieter than the others, watches me with an intensity that sends heat radiating through my core.
I’m acutely aware of their scents. They blend together in the small dining room, creating an aroma that feels more and more like home. Without the excessive suppressants blocking my senses, I can detect small shifts—the way Rowan’s musky edgesharpens when our eyes meet, how Liam’s bourbon goes darker when his hand brushes mine, and the way Theo’s cinnamon-vanilla tips sweeter when I laugh.
I relax, realizing for the first time in months I’m not trying to mask my own scent. I’m not tensing with each emotion. The notes of apple that define me are mingling freely with theirs, creating something new and harmonious in the air between us. It feels liberating to… exist, without constantly suppressing every natural response. At least for now, I don’t have to monitor myself with them; that alone is a huge relief.
“We should talk about tomorrow,” Rowan says, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. “About how we handle the public days now that…”
“Now that you all know I’m an omega,” I finish for him when he hesitates.
“And our mate,” Liam adds. Then he looks up at me, eyes intense. “If you want that, of course. We want you to feel safe.”
My heart thunders against my ribs at the word “mate” on his lips. My omega practically howls with joy, while my human brain tries to maintain some semblance of rationality.
“I’ve been managing public spaces for months,” I point out. “I’m good at staying invisible when I need to.”
“You shouldn’t have to be invisible,” Liam says. “Not anymore. Not here.”
“Old habits,” I say with a slight shrug. “It’s safer that way.”
“Not anymore,” Theo says, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not alone now, Emma.”
I look around at the three men—so different from each other, yet somehow forming a perfect whole. Men who’ve shown me nothing but kindness and respect, and if biology is to be believed, men who are perfectly matched to me. My body certainly thinks so.
“I’m still figuring out what that means,” I admit. “Not being alone.”
“We all are,” Rowan says, leaning forward in his chair. “This is new territory for us, too.”
“Let’s take it one day at a time,” Theo suggests.
