Page 31 of Holly Jolly Heat
"You made me laugh," I said simply. "I'd send you technical specs about equipment, and you'd respond with efficiency and precision and then sneak in some completely unexpected humor. You treated me like a person, not just a vendor. You asked about my day. You remembered details."
"That's just good professional relationship management."
"No, it's not. It's caring." I leaned forward. "Michelle, you fought for Lucas like he was family from day one. You negotiatedsponsorships with the fury of a protective omega defending her pack. You celebrated his successes and problem-solved his challenges like they were your own."
"Because I'm good at my job."
"Because you care. Because somewhere, subconsciously, you already recognized us as pack. You just didn't have the scent recognition to confirm it."
She looked at me with something that might have been fear or might have been hope.
"What if you're wrong?" she whispered. "What if this is just biology and proximity and scent compatibility, but not actually... us?"
"Then we'll figure that out. But Michelle? I don't think I'm wrong." I reached across the table, not touching her but close. "I've been observing people through a lens for years. I know what real connection looks like. This is real."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I know you. I know you respond to emails at two AM because you can't sleep when you're worried about a client. I know you make terrible puns when you're stressed. I know you fight harder for other people than you do for yourself. I know you're brilliant and driven and so scared of depending on anyone that you've built your entire life around not needing people."
"You said that already. This morning."
"Because it's true. And because I need you to understand that we see it. All of it. And we're not asking you to change it. We're asking you to let us in anyway."
Michelle's eyes were bright, her scent sweet and warm despite the coffee shop's competing smells.
"I don't know how," she admitted quietly.
"Then we figure it out together. Slowly. With boundaries. At your pace."
"You make it sound simple."
"It's not simple. But it's possible."
We sat in comfortable silence, drinking coffee, and I let myself enjoy this moment. Just being with her, no pressure, no expectations. Building trust through small shared experiences.
"There's a hiking trail," Michelle said finally. "Up on the ridge. Best view of the valley. Good for filming."
"Show me?"
"It's a twenty-minute hike."
"I have time. Do you?"
She looked at me, considering. Then softly she said, "Yeah. I have time."
The trail was beautiful, winding through forest, the ground dusted with recent snow, evergreens towering above us. Michelle led the way with the confidence of someone who'd hiked this path a hundred times.
I filmed as we walked, the light through trees, the way her breath plumed in the cold air, the small-town valley spread below as we climbed.
But mostly, I watched her.
She was different here. Looser. The professional mask kept slipping, revealing glimpses of the woman underneath. The one who'd made me laugh in emails. The one who fought for her clients like family.
Our omega.
"You're staring again," she said without turning around.
"I'm observing. There's a difference."
