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Jason is the muffin man. He’s probably mid-thirties with a hint of eye crinkles that give him distinguished professor vibes.
Next is Kipp, a blond who smells like movie theater butter and has bright green eyes that almost remind me of Finn’s.
Only Finn would never wag his tail like a golden retriever trying to catch my attention. He’d hand me a Molotov cocktail with a smirk and tell me where to throw.
Kipp vibrates with pure smiles.
Last is Rhett.
He’s the obvious pack leader, with the densest energy, and he smells like almond-spiked maraschino. With dark, neatly combed hair, glasses and a fancy tie, he looks like he works at a bank.
Probably owns a freaking bank, and his gaze volleys between Hunter and me. “Cale told us all about you. But he didn’t mention your friend…?”
“My bodyguard,” I say quickly.
“Wyvern? Hunter, right?” Cale asks. “I think I saw you briefly at the hospital?”
“Kind of his fault I was there,” I say, drawing the attention away from my GQ shadow. “Don’t mind him.”
I catch Hunter’s jaw clenching before a chipper voice flips my attention back around.
“Miss Lilah,” says Alice the red-headed beta. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I thought everyone got fired?”
“Everyone else,” she chirps. “I got a raise. Let me show you to your table. You’re right in the center today.”
I’m not sure if the center’s what I want, but it’s safer than being put in another shady corner.
The dining area is gorgeous with pink tablecloths and unfurled peonies, bright and widely spaced so that alphas don’t have to crowd to get to the omegas they’re courting. Alice seats me near a picture window where crystal water goblets sparkle in the sun.
I’d squee over the ambiance, but I’m happiest about the super-sharp bread knives.
I brought my own from home, but every time I stab a guy, I lose the blade. More knives is always better.
The calligraphied place card reads LILAH DARLING. Subtitle: Honeymoon Hills.
Rhett reaches to pull out my chair, but Hunter beats him.
“You’re not serious.” I sit instead of making a scene, but I’m eyeing the bread knives hard.
Ignoring me, Hunter unfolds my napkin and carefully spreads it over my lap. “Won’t get in your way, but I’ll be close. You’re safe.”
I shoo him with a disgusted noise to clear my heart flutter. Hunter takes a post with his back to the wall, scanning the crowd. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel safer having him as backup, but that doesn’t mean he gets to claim me in public.
Rhett smooths the aggro expression he was just trading with Hunter. “Let us make you some dishes. We’ll be right back.”
Huddled up and sneaking glances I pretend I don’t see, the four-man pack heads to the buffet table piled with ice creams and glass bowls of candy toppings.
Alphas have to offer you a bowl if they want to sit at your table and chat. I ignore the sneers of omegas in couture, waiting to see what flavors Sorensens will bring.
If they come at me with maple nut, this is over.
Pretty soon, they’re back with their offerings. It’s not their fault the bowls are tiny—maybe two bites each. You’d be sick if every alpha brought you a full serving.
Still sad.
They made me two dishes of chocolate and two of vanilla, all with basic fudge and cookie crumbles.
