Page 62 of Pack End Game

I smile.

That offer does help a little, mostly because humor helps ease my nerves. I don't actually think Freddie would have the nerve to throw garlic bread at a professional athlete, though it's always possible he could surprise me.

A particularly giant man seems to notice our arrival, breaking off from the group near the bar to head our way. I vaguely recognize him from studying the team's roster.

"There she is!" he booms in an obnoxiously loud voice that draws attention from the whole restaurant. He grins and opens his arms wide in welcome.

"Please be normal," Spencer grumbles.

"No promises." The man shrugs, his grin widening.

"Mia, this is Alan," Spencer says. "Linebacker, and part-owner of this restaurant."

Alan looks tempted to lean in for a hug until Spencer warns him off with a low growl under his breath. He politely holds his hand out instead, and shakes mine twice before releasing me quickly.

"We're all very excited to meet the woman causing these three to act even weirder than usual," Alan says, eliciting a small laugh from me. "I'm so glad you could make it tonight, especially now that we're celebrating a big win! The restaurant is closed tonight to host us, so make yourself at home. The bar is open, and there's a pasta buffet set up in the back room. If you'd prefer pizza, just let one of the bartenders know. Those are made-to-order."

The giant man's welcoming demeanor helps ease some of my nerves. If everyone is half as nice as this guy, I think I'll be spared the fate of ending my night squashed on the pretty tile floor.

"Is there going to be an eating contest tonight?" I ask before I think better of it. "Because I love pasta so much that I'm pretty confident I could out-eat even a room full of professional athletes."

The pack chuckles as Alan gets a good laugh over my claim. I'm not joking, though. Anyone who's known me for a while has inevitably seen me eat enough pasta to feed an entire neighborhood block's worth of families.

Instead of explaining that, I settle on a sweet smile.

Let him find out the hard way.

I hope my pack is helping chip in for the cost of this dinner because otherwise, I'm going to eat my way right through a week's worth of profit.

Alan's gaze slides past us. "Well, look who it is!"

We all turn to look in time to see the Sloths' head coach standing inside the door, his gaze scanning the room until it lands on us. All of the football players seem to stand taller, their reverence for their coach abundantly clear.

He walks toward us with long strides and the confidence of a man who knows he can bend an entire football team to his command. I'm almost jealous of the way he so easily has everyone's attention. Maybe I should have been a football coach.

The first omega football coach?

Definitely a questionable idea, but I'd love to see someone achieve that. Probably someone who understands football much better than I do.

"So this is Mia." The coach stops in front of me, looking me over in a non-threatening way that makes it clear he's only giving me a general evaluation. His face breaks out into a pleased smile. "I'm Coach Lamb." He nods to me rather than offer his hand. "Usually, I skip these team dinners. Let the team bond and head home to my family. But I had to make an exception tonight when I heard there might be an extra special guest in attendance."

I blink. "Oh... uh... It's really nice to meet you, Coach Lamb."

"Sometimes we call him Lamby as a nickname," Freddie chimes in.

Spencer, Zak, and Alan all shake their heads immediately.

Coach Lamb scowls.

"No one has ever called him Lamby." Spencer glares at Freddie, who steps forward instead of backing down.

"Well, I do now!" he announces cheerfully. "Who's with me?" He looks around, but everyone else in the room is suddenly very busy looking anywhere but toward us. Freddie responds with an unfazed shrug. "Just me and Mia, then. That's cool."

"No," I say hastily, looking at Coach Lamb. "I won't call you that."

Coach Lamb narrows his eyes at Freddie. "And neither will you unless you want me to tell the higher-ups that I think we should consider replacing the mascot suit with a new style."

Freddie gasps and throws himself at Spencer, who has no choice but to catch him and steady them both. Freddie snuggles as close as possible to Spencer's chest and whispers up at him, "Please don't let the bad man hurt me."