Lily waves a hand even though Chris can’t see the gesture. “Please. Dad is the least of Noel’s problems. My father is zen. A nap. A warm beverage. Great-Aunt Martha is the final boss.”
Chris snorts under his breath. “Sounds… fun.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“Okay, speak later, then.” The line goes dead.
I glare at Lily.
She stares back, grinning like the cat who ate the canary and then the entire dairy section.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“You love me.”
“I’m reconsidering that position.”
“Too late. You’re stuck with me.” She’s already making herself a coffee, totally unbothered by the crisis she just unleashed. “This is perfect. You get to show your family you’re not some sad, single Omega, and you get quality time with one of your Alphas. Win-win.”
“He’s not my Alpha.”
“Yet.”
“We’re not dating.”
“You are after tomorrow night.”
“This is under Dad’s supervision!”
Lily leans her hip against the counter, eyes sparkling with unholy glee. “Just imagine their faces when you walk into the house with him. Tall. Muscles. Tattoos. That whole broodystorm-cloud thing he’s got going on. I swear Cousin Patty might pass out. Or worse, try to touch him.”
“Lily.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“You’re forgetting the part where he knows nothing about me and they’re going to interrogate him like a firing squad.”
She grins wider, dangerously, gleefully. “Don’t worry. I have a plan for that. Leave everything to me.”
“That’s what worries me,” I mutter. I open my mouth to argue further, but the bells over the bakery door jingle.
Scot walks in.
My entire body goes cold. Lily stiffens beside me, and the warm, safe atmosphere of the bakery evaporates.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket. His blond hair is styled perfectly, and there’s a smug expression on his face that makes me want to throw my coffee at him.
Actually, forget the coffee. I want to throw the espresso machine.
“Thought I’d find you here.” He’s looking at me like I’m dog shit he stepped in. “You always run to your little bakery when things get tough.”
“What do you want, Scot?”
“Just came to deliver some news.” He’s leaning against the doorframe now, completely relaxed. Like he owns the place. “Packed up all your stuff from the apartment above the business. You’re not living there anymore.”
The words take a second to land. Then they hit me as though I ran into a mountain. “You did what?”
“Packed your shit. You can’t live in my building anymore.” His smile is cruel, satisfied. “The apartment is for Confetti and Meatballs employees only. You’re not an employee. So you’re notliving there. Locks are already changed.” He steps back from the door and glances outside on the sidewalk.
