Page 45 of Pumpkin Patch Pack
I rifle through the small stack of second-hand clothes I’ve accumulated since running. Oversized sweaters and shapeless tops that were explicitly chosen to hide my figure, make me forgettable, and invisible.
Nothing that would make an alpha look twice.
“This isn’t me either,” I murmur, tossing aside another baggy shirt.
At the back of the drawer, I find the soft cashmere cardigan in a deep burgundy that I “splurged” on at a thrift store. It’s the one thing I love, but I’ve never worn it because it’s fitted.
I put it over a simple white tank top and pair it with my nicest jeans.
No more corporate precision, no more hiding in shapeless clothes. Just… me.Whoever that is now.
I apply a touch of tinted lip balm and mascara—nothing dramatic, but enough to feel like I’m making an effort—for them and myself.
As I brush my hair, letting it fall loose around my shoulders instead of in my usual practical ponytail, I catch my reflection in the mirror.
I look different.
Not just physically—though the dark circles under my eyes have faded—but something in my expression has changed. The constant wariness has softened, replaced by a cautious hope.
At precisely six o’clock, I make my way to the main house. My new underwear makes an embarrassing crinkling with each step, and I pray it’s not audible to anyone else.
Before I can knock, the door swings open. Liam stands there, his large frame filling the doorway. I catch his scent immediately, stronger now, making my knees weaken and my pulse quicken.
“Hi,” I say softly, suddenly shy under his intense gaze.
“Happy to see you,” he replies, his deep voice warm with something that might be relief. He steps back, gesturing for me to enter. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I say, moving past him into the house. The brush of his arm against mine sends electricity racing across my skin, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him, to press myself against his solid warmth.
A slight, involuntary sound escapes me.
Oh my gawwd! Did I whine?
Liam’s nostrils flare in response, and his pupils dilate slightly.
“Thank you for… for finding me. Dr. Mitchell said if you hadn’t…”
I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
“Maple deserves the credit,” he says. “She knew something was wrong.”
The mention of the goat makes me smile. “My fuzzy guardian angel.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “She’s inconsolable about not being invited to dinner. I had to bribe her with extra apple slices.”
The image of Liam bribing a stubborn goat warms me from the inside. Before I can respond, Theo’s voice calls from the kitchen.
“Is that our guest of honor? Bring her in before the roast dries out!”
Liam leads me to the dining room, where the table has been set—actual cloth napkins, a small arrangement of fall flowers, and candles. It’s unexpectedly lovely, and I feel a lump in my throat at their effort.
Theo emerges from the kitchen carrying a large serving dish, his face lighting up when he sees me. “You look beautiful,” he says with such glee that I blush, my omega preening under the praise.
“The table looks amazing,” I reply, deflecting the compliment but pleased, nonetheless.
“Rowan’s on his way,” Theo explains, setting down the dish. “Got caught on a call with a supplier.”
As if summoned by his name, Rowan appears in the doorway. His eyes find mine immediately, and he burnt-sugar musk notes of his scent intensify. “Emma,” he says, my name in a low voice. “It’s good to see you up and about.”
