Page 32 of Pack Choice
Like me, she’s still living at home. Unlike me, she has no big brothers breathing down her neck. Just a half dozen little omega sisters. All equally as beautiful as Ava and all equally as sweet. They all also adore their older sister and we have to lock ourselves away in Ava’s bedroom to stop them interrupting every five seconds for requests to tie a bow, read a page, or brush their hair.
I pull the latest batch of cookies I’ve baked from my purse and dump them on the mattress between us.
Ava snaps off the lid immediately and lifts one out.
“White chocolate and dark chocolate chips?” she asks.
“You bet,” I tell her.
“Molly, you are the best.”
She sinks her teeth into a cookie, muttering about how good it tastes, and I lie back against her cushions and wait for her to finish her mouthful.
“So you want to run through your notes?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, spreading five pages of scribbled notes between us. “I think I’ve narrowed it down to three packs I’d like to see again. But I want to see what you think.”
I glance down at the pieces of paper. There’re notes on about twenty-five packs at least. Ava is spoiled for choice. Whereas me …
I guess I should feel jealous. But it’s hard to feel jealous when it’s your best friend who you love to bits.
I pick up the first piece of paper.
“The ones ringed in pink,” she says.
“And the ones in blue?”
“Those are ones I thought you might like. There’s four.”
I lower the paper and stare at her.
“Ava ...”
“Molly, we need to find you a pack and these ones seem right up your street.”
“So up my street that they spent hours getting to know me at the event. Oh … no … wait, they didn’t even come and introduce themselves.”
“That’s because you were scowling at everyone all night. You scared them all away.”
“They’re alphas. They don’t do scared. Besides, I only started on the scowling after Mr. Red Flag. I was all sweetness and light before then.”
“I’m sure if they got to know you …”
“We both know that’s not how it works with alphas. If the immediate attraction isn’t there, it isn’t going to work out.”
“Says who?” Ava asks, licking her fingers.
“Biology.”
“Love isn’t all about biology.”
“It’s a large part of it though, isn’t it?”
Ava points at the paper. “Just read.”
I scan my eye down the notes Ava has made about each pack. They all sound pretty amazing. I don’t know how she’s going to pick.
When I’ve finished the first page and go to pick up the second, Ava asks casually, “How is Mr. Red Flag?”
