Page 86 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
“You are, and it’s sexy as hell.” Hayden eases back when Asher raps his knuckles on the door.
There’s one painful minute, filled with anticipation, where I think about every possible scenario for things to go wrong. Every dreadful encounter races through my mind, until the yellow door opens to reveal a woman wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. Melanie. Asher is on her in a second, hugging her tight to him. She’s shorter than he is, curvy, and has on a cute pink and white blouse and black slacks. So fancy for relaxing at home, but some people enjoy dressing up. Not everyone is as fond of yoga pants as I am.
“Hey, Ma,” Asher says when he pulls back. He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I have something to tell you.”
Like a heat seeking missile, Melanie narrows her eyes at him and then cuts them to our group. She finds me in less than a second. Her mouth parts a little, and she smiles. Frowns. Scowls and glares at Asher.
“What is this?”
I take a step back, but Avi grabs my hand and pulls me to his side, shaking his head hard. Hayden presses into my side, and much to my surprise, Trev steps back and reaches for my other hand. I stare at his waiting palm before taking it, remembering what he said. We have to pretend to make this real. A good pack protects their omega.
“Ma, meet Whitney. Our omega.”
Asher’s mom breaks. A handful of emotions flash over her face. Happy. Sad. Excited. Angry. Annoyed. Finally, remorseful. She shoves past him and marches down the three porch steps and up to Trev. For a short woman, she’s fierce. She takes up space, and when she bares her teeth at him in what I think is meant to be a smile, he releases my fingers and steps aside.
Betrayal rushes through me, but when I’m pulled into the softest hug, I forget about Trev throwing me to the wolves. Asher’s mom isn’t a wolf, but I can’t help how I stiffen in her hold.
“I’m sorry, Whitney. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, quickly pulling back and giving me a good once over. “You are beautiful. I’m afraid they don’t deserve you.”
My lips kick up. “Oh, I know.”
She chuckles. “Pretty and funny.” Tossing a glare over her shoulder, she pins Asher with a look. “You better not do anything to fuck this up.”
I laugh, then quickly stifle it. “Asher is amazing, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” His mom turns back to me. “Please, call me Melanie.”
“Okay.”
She surveys the men. “You all look hungry and tired.”
“I could eat,” Hayden says.
“You always want to eat,” she retorts with an eyeroll. “I swear he’s a garbage disposal.” She pulls me away from Avi and Hayden. “Come help me finish dinner and tell me why these fools didn’t let me throw you a proper welcoming party.”
I look back at the men. Avi shrugs. Hayden raises an eyebrow. Unreadable and intimidating as ever, Trev simply watches Melanie take me. She pats her son’s shoulder as we go inside, the touch oddly threatening, but not in a malicious way. More like he’s never going to hear the end of this.
The inside of the house is as cute as the outside. Champagne walls, one dark blue accent wall in the living room. It’s an open concept layout like the pack’s house. Melanie makes a sweeping gesture with her arm.
“Welcome to my home. I’m finishing the asiago chicken pasta.” She releases me and walks to the gas stove. A nice black pot holds boiling water and noodles. Taking a wooden spoon from the counter, she stirs it and tsks. “One more minute.”
I linger on the other side of the counter. The house is nice. Not millionaire nice, but the dining room table is hardly worn. The pretty blue and white rug underneath has no loose threads. The counter is granite, but nothing overly obnoxious. A simple brown and black slab. The cabinets are older, but the coating on the outside is still in great condition. Melanie and her pack take care of things. By the time I stop inspecting things, Melanie is dumping the noodles into a strainer in the stainless steel sink.
“So, Whitney, how are they treating you?”
“They’ve been wonderful.” I rest my hands on the cool granite.
She lifts her eyes to meet mine, the steam from the noodles and hot water rises between us. “Even Trev?”
I nod. “He’s nice.”
Snorting, she shakes her head. “That man is not what I’d call nice, at least not when you first meet him. He’s a cactus. If you take the time to avoid spines, you might find something a little sweet. So, how has he been?”
“He’s hard to read.”
Two hands land on my shoulders, and I stiffen enough for Melanie to notice. My mind flashes back to an unpleasant memory, but I smile and play it off. Melanie is watching me with new curiosity, and I don’t like it. Smells that don’t belong in this home tickle my nostrils.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
