Page 40 of Pack Choice
“Roast chicken,” I sniff, “and let me guess, you eat it with a truck load of potatoes.”
“And a green salad.”
“You eat roast chicken with green salad? That is so very sad. You know one little cake wouldn’t hurt. I’m sure all your,” I wave my hand in his direction, “muscles,” I gulp, because he does have so many muscles, “won’t be harmed in the process.”
“No,” he says sternly.
I sink down onto a chair, peeling back the case of the battered cupcake and taking a large, exaggerated bite, closing my eyes and moaning loudly as I do. “That is so good,” I groan, using my best bedroom voice.
When I open my eyes, I find two of my new co-workers staring at me, one’s coffee cup has tipped to the side and he’s dripping coffee all over the floor.
“Oh,” I yelp, jumping to my feet, avoiding the way Ford’s lips twitch in that almost-smile, “would you like a cupcake?”
“If they taste that good, then yes,” a tall woman with braids says.
I offer her the plate.
“Bliss, right?” I ask. She nods and the man beside her takes one too. “And Brad?”
“That’s right,” he says, taking a bite of cake.
“Oh my, this is heavenly,” Bliss says, her eyes rolling around in their sockets, and I throw Ford a smug look. “You made these?”
“Yeah, baking is a bit of a hobby.”
“You should be working in a bakery, not an office.”
“I don’t think I could do it for a job. It’s a way of unwinding.” Although, if the speed I’m making my way through Mr. Red Flag’s list is anything to go by, I admit I am probably better at baking than filing and typing.
“Oh,” Bliss says, glancing towards Brad, “you already need to unwind after one day working here?”
“Well … no … I just …”
“It’s okay,” Bliss says, laughing, “we all know what he’s like. Taskmaster.”
Brad nods in agreement. “And stubborn.”
“And grumpy.”
“With stupidly high standards.”
“Errr, if he’s so bad,” I ask, “why are you working here?”
“Because this agency has all the best clients. You saw who was here yesterday right? River Caspian.” How could I miss him? He was so close I’d seen the dark blue rim of his eyes and the pulse beating in his neck. “It’s worth it to get to work with people like that. Besides, Colten’s not so bad once you know how to handle him.”
“Any tips on how to handle him?” I ask, causing Ford’s pecs to twitch.
Bliss peers up at the man-mountain beside me. “I’d say keep your head down and stay out of his way, but that won’t be possible in your position.”
“I’d think you’d have more of an idea of how to handle him than us,” Brad says, munching on the remainder of his cupcake. “You are an omega, aren’t you?”
Bliss visibly cringes and Ford stiffens. “Brad,” she says.
Brad looks up from his cake. “Oh … sorry,” he says.
Bliss leans into me and whispers so Brad can hear. “He has a tendency to put his foot in his mouth. Luckily the clients find it amusing.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “But you’re wrong. I may be an omega, but I have about as much of an idea as you do.”
