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Does that make him too trusting? Or just stupid?
Does he feel the same fickle, strange connection I do after the hours we spent chatting at the bar?Or does he just have so much money, he isn’t worried about giving away a hundred dollars?
If he knew what I really am, if he caught a whiff of my perfume, he’d probably be throwing much more than a gift card at me, so I guess I should be grateful it’s not more. I bring the letter to my nose, inhaling deep and catching a whisper of hearty bourbon that’s still enough to make my mouth water.
Damn it.
He’s not even here and I’m pining for him. What happens when we’re trapped in the restaurant together for a long shift, and his scent gets stuck in my sinuses and makes me lose my mind?How did I think this was a good idea?
Oh, right. I was drunk.
Huffing at my miscalculation, I stare back down at the gift card in my hand.
I’m appalled, utterly flabbergasted in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been, all because of a stranger.
Again, he’s given me something I didn’t ask for on a silver platter, but just like dinner, I can’t turn this down. There’s no way I’d be able to afford everything otherwise, and once I start working, I’ll be able to pay him back.
Who knows how long it’ll take, considering I don’t even know the wage, but I’ll pay him back regardless. I refuse to be indebted to an alpha again.
I’m itching to throw the paperwork back in the folder and head for the store. Shopping seems way more fun than filling out all my personal information, but it’s a little late for a trip to the mall. It’ll only be open for a couple more hours, and I don’t want to be caught out alone at night.
Besides, it’s been ages, so long I don’t fully remember the last time, since I’ve been to the mall. I don’t want to be rushed.
I want to stroll through the stores, get lost in the countless racks of clothes, and forget about my mounting problems for a little bit. There’s just not enough time tonight to do everything I want to do and see everything I want to see.
Tomorrow, I’ll go shopping. I’ll get the clothes and the shoes, and I’ll go by the truck stop to get ready. The thought puts a smile on my face; it’s exhilarating to think about.
My entire life starts over tomorrow. The promises that having a job brings are endless, and soon, everything will look so different. I won’t be stuck staying in my car very much longer.
Soon, very soon, everything is going to change, and this time, I don’t just feel it.
I know it.
eight
JESSA
I’m up early the next morning, too eager for the shopping ahead to sleep in. I’m showered and dressed well before any of the stores at the mall open.
Nerves bubble through me the way they always do when I go out in public, worrying about what would happen if the scent blocker fails while I’m out.
What if someone scents me? What if someonerecognizesme?
What would I do then?
The blocker shouldn’t fail–it never has before–but the fear of knowing just how coveted unbonded omegas are won’t let me shake the anxiety. It might be something I live with forever, but I take comfort as I swallow the little pink pill, trusting that it’ll do its job and keep me from perfuming for at least the next 24 hours.
Before I broke the mate bond with my alphas, I was never allowed to go anywhere alone. Five years of always having protection nearby, of never having to defend myself or run for my life; it spoiled me to a constant sense of comfort. Now, without that permanent shield to keep alphas, and even betas, away, I feel exposed.
Unprotected, weak.
I try to focus on anything other than my mounting anxiety, hoping thoughts of shopping and sneaking by the food court will soothe the jitters. It works for a few minutes, until I decide to call the number on the back of the gift card to check the balance and find out there’stwo hundred and fifty dollars on it.
I choke. I’m not sure what to say or do as I stare down at the infernal piece of plastic that’s going to both change my life and doom it.
Where does this man think I’m shopping? New York City? Paris?
Nausea churns my stomach as Alessandro’s sweet gesture turns sour, leaving a bad taste in my mouth. How will I ever pay this alpha back if he keeps throwing gifts at me and disguising them as chivalry?
