Page 13 of In Stockings
On Friday, I go for a bikini wax because … yeah … I’m not actually expecting anything to happen. Those three alphas probably charm the pants off everyone they meet. They probably get a kick out of flirting. It didn’t mean anything.
Saturday at the grotto is even more chaotic than it was the week before – it’s only days until Christmas.
I leave the madness at closing time with a bruise on my hip and a bite mark from a toddler on my arm. My hair has also come unbraided, and I’ve lost my hat. I’m pretty sure I saw it on a teenage boy.
I have an hour to transform myself from what looks like an elf who’s been in a tangle to an irresistible omega the Hart Pack might want to date.
Do I want to date this pack? Is the Pope a Catholic? Is the world round? Is salted caramel the best ice cream flavour ever invented?
Of course, I do. They save lives for a living. Rescue people from burning buildings. They are heart-warmingly adorable with their daughter. Plus, all three are mouth-wateringly hot.
And there are three of them! Three!
I’m not one of those omegas who is intimidated by the idea of a pack. Quite the opposite. The idea has always appealed. More love. More companionship. More …
What’s not to like?
I just never thought I’d meet a pack. Let alone a pack that might be interested in me.
Having ditched the black dress, my outfit options are limited.
Most of my money goes on rent, food and school supplies. And I’m earning a pittance doing the grotto job because it’s for charity. There isn’t any leftover for fancy clothes. I have to go on a pleading campaign to my roommate, Amanda. She has a job in fashion and ample outfits.
When I explain what the outfit is for, Amanda jumps around the room, tugging out clothes from the wardrobe and her chest of drawers.
She tries to talk me into a sparkly catsuit. “It’s super sophisticated and sexy,” she tells me while holding it up in front of my body.
“The first time I met them, I was dressed as an elf. I don’t want to dress as a bauble this time.”
“But an adorable bauble,” she says, pinching my cheeks.
“Urgh, I don’t want to be adorable! I want to look so hot they can’t help slinging me over their huge fireman shoulders and carrying me into the nearest bedroom. But also not too slutty, because their little girl will be there. And who knows who else.”
“Then the catsuit.”
“Anything but the catsuit.”
Amanda turns back to the toppling pile of clothes on her bed and starts tossing items over her shoulder. Eventually, she halts, “This.”
It’s a plaid shirt dress; red and black and very Christmassy.
“It isn’t too conservative?” I query.
“Nope, because you’ll wear it with your knee-high boots and, trust me, all those boys will be able to think about is unbuttoning this shirt.” She yanks the dress from my grasp. “Please tell me you have nice underwear for this evening.” She’s seen my collection of cotton knickers drying on the radiator of our flat. “Because I’m not lending you a pair of knickers.”
“I have a nice set.” One. I have one nice set. If this works out, perhaps I’ll have a reason to invest in more.
Amanda helps me with my makeup and insists on braiding my long black hair in a fancy plait over my shoulder. “They’ll also be thinking about gripping this plait in their hands and –”
“Stop!” I warn her. “Don’t get me all horny and flustered before I even get there.”
“Why not? You’ll smell even nicer for them.” She tugs on my plait and pushes me off my chair. “Go on, go get laid. It’s been forever, and I’m sick of you moping around the house.”
“I don’t mope. And I’ve been happy being single.”
“Too much work and not enough play makes Astrid a very dull person to hang out with. Go!”
I stick my tongue out at my friend, zip up my boots and head out into the cold night air.
