Page 20 of Stuck with my Pack
Brodie grins and holds his hand out over the table. I shake it firmly, feeling the power of our bond roaring back to life. I turn toward Tyler.
“What do you say?” I ask him, holding my hand out. “Want to come back into the fold and spend some quality time with us trying to fix a staircase and a crumbling old inn for a fucking gorgeous Omega?”
Tyler looks into my eyes for a long moment, as if he’s pondering what to do about the situation. For a moment, I can’t read him or smell him, and I feel a flicker of fear that he’ll back out, turn me down.
But then a grin stretches across his face, and he takes my hand. “I’m in. I missed you idiots,” he says.
Relieved, I shake his hand, then lean back in my chair and look at my phone.
“Time to head over to Sophie’s. You sure you don’t need some caffeine before we go?”
Tyler shakes his head, looking at my cup and grimacing again.
“Nah,” he says. “I think you’ve got enough sugar in that cup for the whole town. I’ll probably have to spend all day getting you to focus so that we can actually get something done.”
9
SOPHIE
The main entrance of the inn feels anything but grand as I stare at the battered staircase in front of me. The once-polished wood is dull and chipped, the banister wobbles dangerously if you so much as look at it, and a couple of steps are outright missing. Others creak ominously underfoot with every tentative shift of weight.
“This thing’s a deathtrap,” Tyler mutters, whistling low as he looks at the staircase. “I always wanted your Aunt to let me tear it out and start over. But she never allowed me to modernize anything.”
I bite back a laugh. It’s absurd how much I enjoy Tyler, even when he isn’t being helpful. “Well, we’re not exactly in the position to just rip it out and start over, anyways.” I reply, glancing over at Ethan, who’s crouched near the base of the staircase, studying the structure with an intensity that feels borderline intimidating.
“It’s salvageable,” Ethan says after a long pause, his tone clipped but resolute. “But it’s going to take time and effort. And it’s a good thing Brodie’s here. He can fix almost anything.”
I glance at Brodie, who’s running a hand along the worn banister, his amber eyes thoughtful. “We can reinforce this,” hesays, his voice calm and steady. “Cut new treads for the missing steps, sand everything down, and tighten up the joints. It’ll hold.”
His quiet confidence settles me in a way I can’t explain. “So, we’re all agreed,” I say, clapping my hands together with forced optimism. “We fix what’s already here.”
The three of them exchange looks, each assessing the damage—and each other—in their own way. Tyler’s easy grin is a sharp contrast to Ethan’s stoic focus, and Brodie’s calculating calm sits somewhere in between. It’s like watching three different storms brewing at the same time, and I can’t help but feel caught in the center.
Ethan straightens, brushing off his hands. “Here’s how we’ll do it. Brodie, you’ll tackle that molding and match the missing Victorian details. Tyler, you’ll reinforce the banister. I’ll work on replacing the damaged stair treads. Sophie…” His piercing gaze lands on me. “You can sand and clean. Deal?”
“Deal,” I say quickly, desperate to feel useful. I grab a piece of sandpaper and a block and get to work on the lower steps while Brodie starts measuring and Tyler sets up a workspace nearby. I’ve never done anything on this scale, but the fear I had is quickly being replaced by hope.
I look over, and Tyler has taken off his sweatshirt. Underneath he has on a faded band T-shirt that fits snug. I’m mesmerized by the play of muscles that ripple across his chest and back as he moves. AndOh my God, his arms are work of art. I think as my eyes trace his slim torso down to his low-slung jeans.
“Sophie?” Brodie asks pointedly, looking from me to the block in my hand. I had completely stopped sanding, and there was probably drool on my face. I know my scent has to be so embarrassingly obvious. I duck my head and get back to work.
The rhythmic sounds of tools and sanding fill the space, accompanied by Tyler’s constant stream of commentary. He’s seemingly oblivious to my appraisal.
“Hey, rookie,” he calls out, smirking as I struggle to keep the sandpaper steady. “You sure you’re not sanding yourself more than the stairs?”
I shoot him a glare, which only makes his grin widen. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Brodie appears at my side, his presence quiet but grounding. He watches for a moment before stepping closer.
“Here,” he murmurs, his hands brushing mine as he adjusts my grip on the sandpaper. “You need to go with the grain, not against it. Like this.”
His body is so close I’m drowning in the smell of sunshine and leather scent, and I can feel myself slick. What is happening to me?
The hard warmth of his body lingers even after he steps back, letting his hand trace up my arm, shoulder, and neck as he steps away. I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand.
My pulse quickens every time our eyes meet, and I’m hyper-aware of how close he’s standing. His scent wraps around me, making it impossible to think clearly.
I question for the millionth time if it was smart to agree to have all of them help me with the house. I need the extra hands in a desperate kind of way, but the temptation, and the pressure of trying to keep from acting on it, is already starting to make my nerves fray at the edges.
