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My head shakes. “No, not an emergency, but it is important. I’d rather not put it off.”
“Gotcha.” Ramsey leans forward, letting the driver know we need to make a stop.
“Do you happen to have your phone?” Fitz asks, running his fingers through my hair.
“Yeah. Do you need to borrow it?” I dig in my purse, yanking it out.
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all.” I pass it back as the car comes to a stop.
“I guess you’re stuck with me this time, shortcake.” Ramsey grins. The security guy pops out of the front and moves to the back to hold the door open for us.
Ramsey slides out, offering me a hand. I climb out as cars honk behind us. It makes me stumble over my shoes on the concrete, but Ramsey keeps me upright.
I honestly have no clue about the etiquette for these types of things, but the traffic is unreal, considering it’s late in the day on Christmas Eve. For big occasions back home, we go into Chicago, but this area of New York is like an entirely different world to me.
“Come on.” Ramsey carefully corrals me toward the building. “They’ll circle the block and come back for us.”
* * *
“I’m fairly sure you only purchased that stuff so I wouldn’t make a fuss about you paying.” I pull on the gloves he picked out. They are quite toasty. I was even able to grab a few last-minute things I needed for their gifts.
Ramsey chuckles. “Possibly. Nah, we don’t need to pay eight dollars per beer for room service when I could conveniently pick it up.”
He also grabbed a ton of snacks, a deck of cards, and so much other random stuff that I can’t name it all. He gets most of the load, but I snag the last couple bags from the dangly area. They aren’t heavy. The security guy, who I don’t know, gives us a nod and heads out the sliding door of the pharmacy.
I shiver as the frigid air hits my skin. All the traveling through the South must have spoiled me. Usually, I handle the cold pretty well, but New York is absolutely freezing. My breath fogs as I wiggle around, trying to warm myself up.
“The car isn’t back yet,” Ramsey says, nodding at the wall. We lean against it, keeping our eyes peeled in the direction they should be coming from. “If I wasn’t overloaded with shit, then I’d offer you my jacket.”
I laugh. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want you to freeze to death.” I wouldn’t have turned down a hug, though. It’s been a stressful few days, and it’s taking a toll on my body. My abdomen aches with cramps that come and go, but more than that, I just feel majorly unsettled. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve got the overwhelming urge to nest. Or maybe run a mile? It’s nervous, frantic energy while simultaneously not feeling great.
Two guys walk toward us from the direction the SUV should be coming in. We flatten against the wall to give them plenty of room on the sidewalk, but when they get close, they turn to face us.
“Miss Rhodes, any comments on the interview Harvey Meyers gave? Did he speak truthfully regarding your designation?” The man shoves a small microphone in my face as my mouth falls. “Did you purposely hide that information from your pack until you were bonded?”
My heart seems to drop into my stomach. Harvey gave an interview about me? The guys tried to warn me that it could happen. Not just ex-boyfriends, but old friends, coworkers, classmates.
I bite my lip to keep from defending myself. Fitz and Ramsey gave me my own version of media training. They’ll twist anything I say. Warrick’s advice was to tell them tofuck off,but what works for a heroic and beloved rock star would not have the same effect for me.
My chest feels tight as my gaze darts around. If I bolted, would they follow? With my luck, I’d probably slip on ice, and they’d get pictures or video of the entire experience.
My eyes ache as I process the fact the world now knows I’m basically a beta with the anatomy to take a knot. Oh yeah, and they think I’m sneaky enough to trap people to me without warning them.
“Hey, asshole,” Ramsey growls, shoving off the wall and getting in the reporter’s face. “It’s Christmas Eve. I get that it’s your job, but have some fucking humanity. If you choose to keep asking questions, then I’d be real fucking careful of your tone.”
“Head down this way, they’re eight back in the line of traffic,” the security guy says, jogging toward us.
Ramsey’s hand meets my back, guiding me away as the reporter continues to ask questions. The bags bounce around against my butt as we move away at a rapid pace. Luckily, the security guy plays interference, keeping them back as we walk toward the idling SUV.
“That’s why Fitz took my phone.” Realization dawns as I exhale heavily. We make it into the SUV and have to wait for the security guy to join us. The other guy I wasn’t paying attention to definitely has a camera. I turn my face away, staring anywhere but at the photographer. I really hate being on this side of the lens.
What a freaking disaster.
* * *
I’m currently pretending to be the panda my hoodie blanket is designed after. Animals don’t have to deal with the press, hurt feelings, or worry that they’re majorly inadequate in comparison to their packmates.
