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I’m already exhausted by the idea of that.
Aurie’s straight white teeth sink into her bottom lip, as she wrinkles her nose. “He probably won’t be back for at least a week.”
“A week?” Well, at least then I could go home, relax and come back. But I really wanted to get this taken care of today. The more time I spend here, the greater my chances of fate being a little bitch and making me stumble into a member of the Werth pack.
“Yeah, but maybe I can help instead? What are you here for? Divorce?” Her green eyes dip, sliding over my neck, noting the lack of a mating bite. Not that there would be. Everyone thinks I’m a beta, and betas usually end up with other betas who don’t do the whole bite thing. It’s strictly an alpha and omega thing.
I choke out a laugh. The very idea of me being married is so absurd. “God no. No. I’m not married. Never have been.”
Aurie’s brows arch. “It’s just that Janet called you Miss Kinsella, so I thought… marriage.”
I shake my head and grip the strap of my bag like it’s my lifeline. “No, I was adopted into the Kinsella pack shortly after I… left.”
Janet seems to take pity on me because she breaks in. “She’s here about Gladys Benson’s will.”
Aurie smacks one perfectly manicured hand against her forehead. “Oh, of course. Your grandmother’s estate!” She rounds the desk and bends over Janet’s back, clicking on the computer. “I’ll tell you what. It looks like I have a free hour tomorrow at eleven thirty. I’ll track down the paperwork and you can come in, sign it and then head back wherever you need to go.”
A sigh of relief blows through my lips. I need this to be done. I need this chapter of my life to be closed and to never have to think about coming back here. “That would be great. Thank you, Aurie. I really appreciate it.”
The beta waves her hand. “Oh, don’t even mention it. Maybe we can grab lunch after, catch up. I’d love to know what you’ve been up to since...”
I brace myself for the inevitable questions. Why did you leave? What happened? Did you know they were courting Yasmin Forsyth? How will you ever recover from the shame?
But she just gives me a radiant smile. “Since high school.”
I swallow and nod. “Yeah, that would be nice.” Of course I’m lying through my teeth, but she doesn’t need to know that. As soon as those papers are signed, I’m gone. Especially since I can get my errands done today.
Another grin and a finger wave from the redhead. “Great! I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven thirty!”
I wave back at her and then give Janet a nod before heading out to the street and toward my client’s shop.
I’d thought I might not remember the city after seven years away, but my feet carry me with unerring accuracy to The Royal Ink Tattoo Parlor. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise me, seeing as it’s only two blocks from where my favorite coffee shop used to be, or maybe it’s still there. I don’t know.
The buzz of tattoo guns and the thumping beat of The Hidden Rails greet me as I step inside. There’s no one behind the counter, but I just ring the bell and wait, my gaze scanning over the flash art decorating the walls. I don’t have a tattoo, but I’ve always kind of wanted one. I was damn close once, but Sadie talked me into getting a nose piercing instead.
“Less permanent, but still badass,” she said. “If you still want a tattoo in a year, I’ll come with you and hold your hand.”
“Vee?” I spin around to find Whitman striding toward me, a grin on his handsome face. We’ve met over video chat, but never in person, even though I’m only two hours away. His grin widens as he sweeps his gaze from the top of my head down to my black booties.
I do the same to him, noting the way his black t-shirt clings to his muscles, the flecks of gray at his temples in his dark hair, the tattoos that cover both of his arms. As he moves closer to me, a wave of vodka, citrus and ginger floods my nostrils. It’s not unpleasant, in fact it smells pretty darn good considering I can’t usually stomach most alpha scents. But this is almost soothing.
Don’t get me wrong, it does nothing for my omega. She doesn’t want to smell anyone but five stupid assholes who broke my heart.
I smile at him and give a small wave. “Hey, Whit.”
He goes in for a hug, but I back up a step, a wave of nausea rolling through like an old friend. I don’t let it show on my face, though; I have a lot of experience with hiding my body’s reaction to alphas these days.
Whitman tilts his head watching my retreat, but he doesn’t say anything, tucking his hands into his pockets like, ‘look at how good I’m being at not touching you.’ “It’s so good to meet you in person. I thought I’d never get you to come into the city.” His voice is gruff, raspy and if I were anyone else, I’m sure it would make my panties wet.
I give him a tight smile and heft my bag farther up my shoulder. “Yeah, I know, it’s really not my scene. Give me forests and mountains over buildings and traffic any day of the week.”
He grins. “How long are you here for?”
“Just until tomorrow. I hoped I’d be able to escape today, but no luck.”
He laughs and rounds the counter, grabbing an envelope. “Escape. You say that like being here is a prison sentence.”
“You might be surprised.” I mutter. Whit moved to the city after I’d left. He doesn’t know the whole sordid affair. Didn’t see the articles about my breakdown and how I was a crazy stalker. He’s completely in the dark about it. I like it that way. Sylvie Benson is dead. Sylvie Kinsella is alive and… well, not well. But alive and kicking. What more can I ask for?
