Page 5 of Pack Choice
“Good night,”I tell the man assigned by my brothers’ pack to escort me home tonight. The dude used to change every five minutes. My brothers have a hard time trusting bodyguards and escorts to keep their intentions pure. But Phil has a wife and four kids. He’s been keeping a watch over me for the last six months and is more than happy to wave me off at the door.
I key in the security code and wait for the door to open. It’s just one of many new security measures my brothers have installed. It makes the house seem even less like mine. I feel like an intruder most days. Which is unfair, I know. They moved back here three months ago, so that I wouldn’t be alone in this big house.
The door clicks open and I step inside, slamming it shut behind me, kicking off my shoes, throwing my coat towards a peg and strolling towards the kitchen.
“Is that you, Moll?” a voice calls from the hallway as I pull flour, sugar and chocolate chips from one of the cupboards. My sister-in-law’s belly appears in the doorway, followed a couple of seconds later by the rest of her. She’s seven months pregnant but already looks fit to burst.
“Yep, it’s me,” I say as she waddles towards me.
“How was it?” she asks, dipping what looks like a pickle into a tub of ice cream.
“So bad,” I groan, then grip her arm. “But you are not allowed to tell Ava that. If Ava asks, it was the best night of my life.”
I duck down below the counter and pull out the mixing bowl and scales.
“Ava’s no fool, Moll,” Bea says, pulling her pickle out of the ice cream and snapping her teeth straight through it. I grimace. Her cravings have been absolutely revolting. “If you found tonight that bad, it was written all over your face.”
I lick my lips. “I’m very good at faking it when I need to.”
“No, Moll, you’re not,” Bea laughs, watching as I spoon a wad of butter the size of my head into the bowl followed by nearly a full packet of sugar. “You baked yesterday, Moll. I’m not sure we need any more chocolate chip cookies.”
I glare at her and begin beating the ingredients, my arm spinning around the bowl like a whirlwind. “You can never have too many cookies in your life, Bea.”
Bea shrugs and drops onto a stool on the other side of the counter, nibbling on her pickle now as she watches me.
“Do you think pickle cookies could be a thing?”
I think that sounds like the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard, but I’m willing to do just about anything for this woman. “I could give it a try,” I offer, cracking an egg against the edge of the bowl and imagining it’s Cassidy Monroe’s head as I do. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Up in the nest. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“And they left you on your own?” Bea’s pack couldn’t leave her alone at the best of times; now she’s pregnant with their first pack baby, there is an alpha hovering at her side constantly.
“I told them to beat it. That we’d need girly time when you got in.”
I smile at her, reaching over the counter to lay my hand on her bump.
“How’s my little niece doing today?”
“Busy. Lots of kicking. And demanding yet more crazy food choices.” She holds up her half-eaten pickle.
“She’s got to make the most of it while she can. There won’t be much room in there soon.”
“Tell me about it,” Bea moans. “I’m already the size of a house. Why evolution made us omegas so small and those alphas so big is anyone’s guess. This baby is going to be ginormous.”
I wince a little on her behalf, and take her hand in mine. “Mom …” I swallow a lump that forms in my throat, “Mom was not much taller than you and she gave birth to those two giants that are my brothers.”
“True.” Bea smiles at me and squeezes my hand. “So, what was so bad about tonight?”
There’s no point hiding my humiliation. Though Bea avoids the gangs of gossipy omegas like the plague, she’ll hear about it on the grapevine eventually anyway. Besides, unlike Cassidy and her gang of mean girls who couldn’t resist sniggering about me on their way out of the ballroom this evening, Bea’s not one to judge.
I crack another against the bowl, this time so hard, half the goop slides down the outside.
“What was wrong? Hmmm.” I take a hold of the bowl in one hand and beat the living daylights out of the mixture, Bea’s eyes whizzing around as she watches my spoon. “Could it be the fact that Cassidy Monroe had more packs visit her than any other omega at the event, including Ava?”
“I really dislike that girl,” Bea mutters.
“Or perhaps it was because I hadnovisitors to my table?”
