Page 49 of The Rogues

“I like to have fun,” I counter just as our van pulls up. “We have a special day planned. I hope you have room for average date activities, considering we’re a couple of nobodies for the day.”

Josie rolls on the balls of her feet, her expression beaming. “You have no fucking idea how amazing that sounds right now.”

“We’re hopping out right here. Everything I have planned is on this block.”

We step out and go into the coffee shop. The place is cute, all chestnut wood with plants covering the walls for a cohesive greenery. Soft folk music plays on the speaker as we walk up to the counter and greet the barista.

“I’d like a lavender refresher, please.” I turn to Josie. “What do you want, Bubbles?”

Her cheeks pinken at the nickname as she looks over the options. “Can I get the dark chocolate mocha with two pumps of marshmallow syrup?”

I hide my smirk behind my hand, my alpha jumping with excitement in my chest.

The lady behind the counter picks up an empty cup and a Sharpie, the nib pausing over the Styrofoam. “And who are they for?”

“I’m Fred,” I say, then point to Josie. “And this is Fizzabelle Jones.”

The barista blinks at me, then turns to Josie. “Fizzabelle?”

My omega doesn’t miss a beat as she raises her chin, proud and confident. “Yes, Fizzabelle. Better than my auntie who got stuck with Yabberina.”

“Huh,” she responds, still skeptical. “Are you two from around here?”

“Just got in from Utah.”

The barista’s mouth parts in an “o” before she says, “Yeah, that explains it.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing, but Josie has completely turned around, her composure slipping.

We stand to the side as we wait for our drinks, unable to look at each other without laughing. When the barista comes back a moment later, we hurry to get our drinks.

“Come on, Fizzy.”

She snorts loudly as we move outside in a quick getaway.

“You’re unbelievable,” she says when we start walking down the block.

“What? We have such amazing costumes. We had to sell them.”

“Fizzabelle Jones is a wonder,” she agrees, but then points at me. “Were you my husband in that scenario? Because then you’d be Fred Jones.”

“Yes, Fred Jones.”

She snickers as she looks at me. “Like, from Scooby-Doo.”

“Oh fuck.” I wince. “But I would never wear an ascot.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Your style is too alternative chic for that,” she agrees. “I like your style. It’s comfy and simple, but also really showcases your fun personality.”

Something about that recognition causes my heart to skip a beat.

“And it complements your tattoo well.” She takes another sip of her drink and then points to where it is beneath my thin flannel shirt. I can feel the slight brush of her finger on my skin, goosebumps erupting from the softest touch. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but they’re orchids, right?”

I swallow roughly, my throat suddenly dry by her rapt attention. “Yeah, they’re black orchids. For Jamie.”

The second the words are out, a smile blossoms over Josie’s face and her eyes light up. “I thought so.”

Just like always, speaking about Jamie makes me beam, my heart swelling in my chest. “Jamie is okay with the bond being temporary and having to re-bond every couple of years, but I wanted something permanent. Something to show him that I’m serious about forever. No matter how many times the bond marks fade, this will be here to stamp me as his.”