Page 92 of Stuck with my Pack
She stirs, a sleepy noise escaping her lips before blinking at me. Her eyes, still foggy with sleep, go wide with realization, excitement flickering behind the nerves. She sits bolt upright, hurdling herself out of bed and quickly shoving herself into clothes.
“I’ll put the coffee on,” she shoots over her shoulder.
I chuckle. That tiny tornado is definitely the best thing that ever happened to me—to us. I sit up and send a playful kick at Brodie’s sleeping form. “Time to get moving.”
By the time I make it downstairs, Sophie is already pacing in the kitchen, arms crossed tight over her chest, chewing her bottom lip.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up.”
She huffs, throwing me a glare. “Everything has to be perfect,” she says. The anxious energy is rolling off her in waves. I can practically feel the knot of tension sitting between her shoulders and smell her anxiety in her usually sweet scent.
Stepping toward her, I place my hands on her shoulders to still her movement. “It’s gonna be fine,” I tell her, my voice softer this time. “We’ve done everything we could.”
Before she can argue, Ethan strides in, rubbing his jaw, looking as serious as ever. “He’s right. It’ll be fine,” he echoes, but his tone is more practical and grounded. I release her, knowing she needs to move, and grab myself an apple from the basket on the counter.
I toss the apple in the air, catching it with a grin “And if it’s not, we’ll just charm the guy,” I say with a wink. “You’ve got three handsome men on your side. No one can resist us.”
Sophie rolls her eyes, but a faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
Brodie is the last to join us, walking in with that steady, deliberate way of his. He doesn’t say much at first, just steps close enough to take her hand, threading their fingers together.
“They’re both right,” he says, his voice quiet still thick with sleep. “We did everything they asked for.”
Sophie’s fingers tighten around his, and I watch her shoulders drop slightly, a little bit of that tension easing.
The inn hums with the quiet sounds of final checks—the four of us moving through the space in a well-rehearsed rhythm.
Ethan runs through the list of repairs one last time while I move through the foyer, adjusting the lighting. The bulbs cast a warm, golden glow, precisely the kind of cozy feel Sophie wanted.
Brodie steps back from where he’s hanging the last picture on the wall, ensuring it’s level.
Sophie stands in the center of it all, twisting her hands together, her gaze sweeping over the space like she’s waiting for something to go wrong. I catch her eye, shooting her an easy grin.
“Breathe, Soph, or you’re going to pass out—or have a heart attack. Neither of which is going to be helpful.” She exhales slowly, nodding.
It’s late afternoon before we hear the sharp knock at the door. We all freeze, and Ethan is going to open the door.
The inspector is a tall, no-nonsense Beta with a clipboard, his posture stiff as he steps inside. His gaze sweeps the room with sharp, assessing eyes, and his silence stretches, weighted with judgment. The air seems to tighten in response like it’s bracing for scrutiny.
I feel Sophie press closer to my side, her fingers curled into the sleeve of my sweater, gripping just a little too tightly. Her scent spikes with unease, a soft pang of nerves that I don’t like one bit.
Ethan stands with his arms crossed, watching the inspector like a hawk, unreadable and sharp. Brodie, steady and grounded, lingers near Sophie, his presence offering silent reassurance.
I don’t like the way the inspector hesitates. The way he frowns as he scribbles something onto his clipboard. Every time he pauses for too long, my patience wears thinner.
The guy walks through the inn, moving with methodical precision, his pen clicking as he jots down notes. My fists clench when he stops at the staircase, pressing his weight against thenew steps. I already know they’re solid—we all tested them a hundred times over—but the way he tilts his head, considering, has me on edge.
Brodie steps forward before I can. “Custom-reinforced,” he says evenly. “The previous steps were compromised from years of water damage. We rebuilt them from the foundation up.”
The inspector nods, jotting something down.
We follow him as he moves through the common areas, checking the newly installed windows, the fireplace, and the structural reinforcements. Ethan answers most of his questions, his tone level and professional, but there’s an edge in his voice, like he’s daring the inspector to find something wrong.
And then, something shifts.
Sophie, still gripping my sleeve, suddenly inhales deeply. I feel the exact moment she makes a choice because she lets go of me and steps forward.
“So, the plumbing in the upstairs baths was a nightmare,” she says, her voice only the slightest bit wobbly before she steadies herself. The inspector raises a brow as Sophie gestures toward the staircase. “The pipes were outdated and barely up to code, but we replaced everything with modern fixtures and added extra insulation to prevent freezing in the winter.”
