Chris ignores him. “Point is, I got close. Real close. Had my hands on her, my mouth on hers, breathed her in while we were kissing, and…” He stops, and something in his expression shifts. Goes serious. “I think she’s my scent match.”
The words hang in the cold morning air. I wait for the punch line.
It doesn’t come.
“You’re serious,” I finally say.
“Fuck yeah.”
Noel’s jaw tightens. “Chris. Two months ago, you were convinced that Omega in Seattle was your scent match. Spent three weeks tracking her down, making plans, then realized she just wore the same perfume as someone you hooked up with in college.”
“That was a mistake.”
“A big one.”
“This isn’t like that.” Chris’s voice turns firm. “I know what I felt. Her scent was like lightning. Made every instinct I have scream that she’s mine. I’ve been hard since it happened, can’t stop thinking about her, can’t focus on anything else.”
I study him. He’s not joking. Not exaggerating, as he really believes this.
“You seeing her again?” I ask, trying not to sound like I’m prying.
Chris’s mouth curves like he’s been waiting for the question. “Day after tomorrow. Her bastard business partner, Scot, stole her animal vendors for some holiday petting zoo. She’s desperate, career is on the line.”
I pause. “Is that so?” The words come out deceptively flat, but inside, something coils tight. Chris is soft under all that muscle and bad attitude. Always has been. A pretty Omega with trouble in her eyes… yeah, that’s exactly the sort of trap he’d walk into smiling. He thinks with his loyalty first and his brain later. I’ve seen him get burned for it, and damn if I won’t break someone’s kneecaps if he gets hurts.
“Our reindeer,” he repeats like it’s already a signed contract. “We’ll bring them to her event. Plus whatever extras we can scrounge up.”
Noel leans on the pasture fence, arms folded. “You offered livestock to a woman you just met?”
“Yep.”
“Well,” Noel says slowly, rolling his shoulders, “if she can handle them, she can borrow them.” He shrugs. “They like people. Mostly. If someone loses a glove, not my problem.”
“That’s the spirit,” Chris says. “We’ll do great.”
Noel gives him a look. “Wait, you volunteered us?”
Chris’s grin is pure sin. “Kinda figured that’s where you two come in.”
I snort. “Oh, absolutely. Because we didn’t just survive a two-hour car ride with eight antlered assholes in the trailer last month. Let’s do it again but with screaming toddlers.”
“Think of the joy,” Chris says. “If anyone dies, Noel can write the eulogy. He’s poetic when he’s depressed.”
“Fuck you,” Noel says mildly.
I laugh under my breath. This is the problem with us. We’ll do just about anything if someone asks nicely. Or if Chris asks at all.
“And,” Chris adds, pointing at us, “you both owe me.”
“For what?” I ask.
He levels me with a look. “You made me wear that goddamn Santa suit. In public. With children. One of them bit me.”
“Natural consequences,” Noel offers with a chuckle.
Chris spreads his arms. “Now it’s your turn. Help me haul reindeer to a party and make sure Hannah doesn’t get steamrolled by her dickhead partner. Easy.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter.
