Page 95 of All Packed Up

“Were the mattresses necessary?”

“Do you want to sleep on the floor?” Arlo asked sarcastically.

Griffith huffed, refusing to answer, but he crossed the room and went into the kitchen, digging around in cabinets until he found what he needed.

With a lighter and candles in hand, he entered the living room and set about providing the room with more light than the fire. When he was done, he could finally see Tate’s and Arlo’s expressions.

“Well, I guess we won’t be watching Netflix tonight, huh?” Tate teased.

Griffith snorted as he plopped down on one of the mattresses, kicking out his feet and leaning back against the couch. “Not bad, guys.”

“Thanks. We just wanted to make sure Wendy was comfortable,” Arlo responded.

“Are they still upstairs?” Grif asked.

Tate’s head turned toward the staircase as he spoke. “Yeah, for now. We’re gonna slip out for a smoke break before she comes back.”

“Alright, I’ll be here.”

He couldn’t deny the alphas had made a pretty fuckin’ sweet little nesting spot in front of the fire. Even if it had taken all the pillows and blankets in his house.

The alphas left, and Grif frowned at the cold that crept in through the crack in the door before they shut it out.

Quiet.

Grif let the silence settle around him, watching the flames in the hearth dance and the sparks flicker to life before drifting up the chimney.

But the quiet didn’t last for long as the steps began squeaking, announcing someone’s presence.

Her sweet scent got to him first, and Grif cleared his throat to warn her of his presence before she entered the room. He didn’t want to startle her.

“Wow. Who did all this?” she asked softly.

“Tate and Arlo,” Grif was quick to answer, deflecting the credit.

“That’s sweet,” she mused and stopped by the couch to stare at the pile of blankets and the flames. “Sorry for the uh… scene earlier.”

Griffith rolled his head on the couch to face her, waited for her gaze to slide his way. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Hungry? There are snacks.”

She smiled softly at him, her cheeks still pinkened. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel embarrassed by her own emotions. By her past, or how she had to deal with it.

Slapping her hands together and rubbing them, Wendy hummed. “Yesss, snacks.”

It made him grin back.

Wendy was still a sassy, strong-headed omega who could roll with the punches and… shit.

Griffith wasn’t putting on baby gloves for anyone.

“Then go get some,” he said with a nod to the kitchen behind him. He slinked down in his sloppy posture under her glare and tried not to show his smile.

“Here’s chips and cookies and fruits and cheese and all kinds of other random shit Arlo and I picked up. Have your pick.” He even waved a hand for good measure.

Wendy huffed. “Fine.”

But there was a certain pep in her step, even if that pep was fueled by annoyance, and Griffith smiled to himself.

Anything to get her mind off the Sterling Pack.