Page 6 of Pack Choice
“What?” Bea says, her mouth falling open in obvious horror. “How is that possible?”
“Because we were in a room full of much more attractive omegas – ones like Ava and Cassidy. You know I can’t compete against the likes of them.”
“Nonsense, Molly. You’re drop-dead gorgeous! Why do you think your brothers keep sacking your bodyguards?”
“To stop me from having a sex life,” I mutter.
“Well … yes … exactly.” Bea examines me, rubbing her hand in circles over her belly. “I don’t believe you didn’t have any visitors at all.”
“Oh no, wait, you’re right, I did,” I say, waving my spoon at her. “One meathead who described himself as a ‘lone wolf’.”
“Lone wolf?” Bea’s brow crinkles. “What is that?”
“An alpha who claims he doesn’t want a pack.”
Bea frowns harder. “Why wouldn’t he want a pack?”
“Exactly!” I say, nodding vigorously. “But, anyway, he was all the interest I got.”
I drop the bowl back onto the counter.
“I bet it was Cassidy.” Bea’s eyes narrow. “I bet she manipulated things somehow, so you ended up with no alphas.”
I shake my head. Bea is incredibly lovely – I have lucked out in the in-law stakes. She’s also turned mighty suspicious of people and their intentions. Which is hardly surprising, considering what happened to her.
“It doesn’t matter, Bea. Like I told you and like I told Ava, I’m not interested in men or packs or anything like that right now.”
“But you need to get out of the house, Moll,” Bea says with concern. “It’s not doing you any good moping about here all day.”
“I don’t need a pack, or any man in general, to leave the house, Bea.”
“You’re right. But Ava was only trying to help.” Her hand continues to circle her belly. “I’m going to do some more baby-clothes shopping tomorrow with Courtney. Why don’t you come?”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure shopping is what I need right now.”
I toss the spoon into the bowl and go in search of chocolate chips. “But you’re right. I need to get out of this house.” Too many memories. It’s not helping.
“We could all go stay at the beach condo for a while?” Bea offers.
“No, I need something else. I just need to figure out what.”
“I really think a pack of men would do the trick,” Bea says, sweeping the last of her pickle through the ice cream. “It was mighty effective in mending my broken heart.”
“Uh uh, we tried the matchmaking thing tonight. Dis. Ast. Er. Nope, it needs to be something else.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Bea says, shuffling to the edge of the stall and groaning as she slides onto her feet. She waddles around to where I’m crouched by the cupboard and, gripping the small of her back, leans down to kiss my forehead. “But not tonight. I need sleep. This baby keeps waking me up with her own rendition of the can-can.”
“Good night, Bea,” I say. I rest my hand on her bump. “Good night, little one. See you both in the morning.”
I listen as my sister climbs the stairs and then I tear open a packet of chocolate chips and dump all of them into the mixture along with flour, trying not to peer around the dimly lit kitchen as I do.
Bea’s right. The memories in this house haunt me wherever I go. I can see them playing out in front of my eyes right now.
I need to get out, but I need a reason to leave.
I spoon dollops of cookie dough onto a tray, flattening them out with my hands and this time imagining that alpha, racking my brain for an idea. When the oven pings fifteen minutes later, one finally hits me.
* * *
