2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Quinn

I looked at my emails and sighed. There were a lot of them. A LOT.

Not that I wasn't happy about all the online orders. I was.

But holy fuck, there were a ton of orders.

When I'd opened my bakery slash coffee shop, The Sweet Spot , two years ago, I never imagined it would become so popular. I'd started out baking at home, making cookies in my kitchen as a hobby. I'd always loved baking, and trying to figure out what to major in at college had stressed me out. Baking had always been a stress reliever for me. I'd posted a few of my creations on my social media account, and started receiving requests for orders. Things had quickly grown from there, thanks to word of mouth and more social media postings, and a year later I'd been able to open my very own shop.

My grandmother, Gigi – do not call me grandma, thank you very much, that is for old people – had convinced me it was time to expand, into an actual brick and mortar. To be brave and take the plunge. She was the bravest person I knew, so I'd done it. She was also the craziest person I knew, and I probably should have remembered that .

Quitting college to follow my dreams of baking had been the scariest thing I'd ever done. I'd thought my alpha dad, the conservative financial planner, was going to stroke out for a minute when I'd told my parents my plan. I'd laid out my business plan, with my finances and all the numbers for my dad, knowing that was the only way I would be able to get him on board with my crazy plan. I'm not sure I convinced him that night, but he'd always been supportive of me, and he'd stayed supportive. Once the almost stroke had been staved off.

My artist, omega mom had been all for me following my dreams. Honestly, I'd known she would be behind it, one hundred percent. But my mom was nothing if not a dream follower, and my dad loved her for it.

So, The Sweet Spot had been born. We now had specialty coffee drinks, along with cookies, cupcakes, scones, and any number of other baked items. We'd managed to build quite a following in a fairly short time, and with the Thanksgiving holiday behind us, everyone was in go mode for the Christmas and New Year's holidays, which were just around the corner.

I started printing out the online orders. It was one of the first things I did every day. Once printed, I would sort by expected dates, easy orders, special orders, rush orders, and on and on. My days started super early, and I would check the online orders once I had the first batches of goodies in the oven. We opened at six each morning, and people expected our cases to be filled with freshly baked items.

It was the Monday after the Thanksgiving holiday, and we were now in official Christmas craziness. This was the second Christmas holiday the storefront had been open, so we had an idea of what to expect from the previous year.

Skimming through some of the orders, there were several for larger, specialty items for upcoming Christmas functions. Both from businesses and individuals. Since the bakery had grown so much in the past two years, so seemed the Christmas demands, judging by the orders that had filled our company website.

We were going to be busy.

Thankfully, one of my employees, Josh, had recently taken an interest in the baking side of things and had started apprenticing. He was an absolute genius when it came to decorating sugar cookies. His flooding technique was almost as good as mine.

Almost.

I snorted, reading an email from my best friend, Wade. He only emailed when he was on "official work business", as he called it. Any other time it was a text, phone call, or FaceTime.

Wade and I had met when we were six years old, and he'd moved next door to me. Like me, he was an omega, and he might possibly be the only person I knew who could give me a run for my money in the sass department. Gigi would snort and call him a brat, which was probably true.

They'd still been unloading the delivery truck with his family's furnishings when he'd marched his skinny, six-year-old-self up our walk. He'd knocked on our door, stating he'd seen this house had kids, and could they come out to play? As I was the only kid in the house – and had remained the only kid my entire life – I'd shrugged, looked his petite form up and down, and decided I didn't have much to lose by playing with him. We'd been best friends ever since. Both of us had been only children and remained so, but we considered each other brothers. I started reading his email.

Yo,

The crazy arse boss man alpha I work for may have heard you were trying out savory scones, along with your sweet ones. Okay, he heard it from me.

The savory scones weren't on my official menu yet, just some new recipes I'd been trying out at home. Wade was a good taste tester for me, so he always got to try the goodies before anyone. He also was the personal assistant for one of the richest alphas in town, Lachlan Sinclair.

Wade had let it slip that his boss had a massive, sweet tooth, and I let him take new, possible menu items in for them both to try. I'd liked getting unbiased feedback from someone other than Wade.

I always got a kick out of Wade's emails to me, as they were never written with any kind of professionalism. Though I had doubts if Wade acted all that professionally, even at work. There was a lot of British slang in his email this morning, which usually meant one thing. Wade was a huge James Bond junkie, and adored any and all fan fiction pairing 007 with the ever brilliant, yet nerdy, Q.

Anyhoo, he wants you to cater the breakfast/brunch thingy for the company before he closes us for the holidays. He really is very vague on what he wants, the wanker. I'm sure he just expects me to figure it out. I mean I always do, but really, throw me a bone here.

I rolled my eyes, picked up my phone, and shot off a text to him.

Me: Have you been reading 00Q fan fiction again?

His reply was immediate and made me grin.

Wade: When am I not doing that?

I sent him back an eye-roll emoji and went back to reading his email.

You know he drools over your cookies, and the sweet scones, so he was over the moon about the savory. Though he tried to hide his excitement. You know he doesn't fool me. He wants to schedule a sit-down, to go over specifics. Date, time, what he wants, how much, pricing. I'm thinking he is wanting to do this in two weeks. Give his ass a big upcharge for the late notice, and tell him I approved it.

I rolled my green eyes. This was going to be big money for the shop. Lachlan Sinclair ran The Sinclair Foundation, a massive charitable group which offered grants to small businesses. They liked to help local businesses as much as possible but also helped struggling, or new businesses, all over the country. They had a good reputation, and were noted for not only employing a large number of omegas, but also in backing omega-run businesses.

Lachlan Sinclair was a big deal, not just in Sweet Alps. He, or his foundation, or one of the many other Sinclair business holdings, made the national papers almost weekly. The Sinclairs were almost synonymous with Sweet Alps. The family line went all the way back to the town's founding fathers.

Lachlan was the oldest of a set of identical quadruplets. That made news on any given day, not just in our little town. Even in the shifter world, quads weren't a popular occurrence. The fact that all four of the quadruplets turned out to be alphas was an even bigger news story. When their father had passed, Lachlan had been made the Alpha of the family.

Catering a business party for him would be great for The Sweet Spot , with the potential to bring more business and revenue for us.

I knew from Wade that each December, Lachlan liked to give his employees generous time off. They usually shut the foundation offices down, except for a skeleton crew, from the second week of December until after the new year. Most people could work from home, but only if absolutely needed. He wanted his employees to enjoy the time off with their families. He made sure that no big gala or charitable events were scheduled for that time, which would cause his employees' extra work. Wade had also bragged that The Sinclair Foundation passed out generous monetary end-of-year bonuses to all employees, all the way down to the janitors that cleaned the offices.

I'd never met the man personally, but I knew he was hot as hell. All four of "the brothers", as most people in town referred to them, were gorgeous. They all still looked almost identical now that they were adults, but there was always something about Lachlan that had caught my eye in pictures. Stirred something deep inside me. I always ignored it.

I wasn't looking for an alpha, or a mate – not after the last fiasco – but my cat could still recognize gorgeous. I always shoved away whatever feelings seeing a picture of Lachlan stirred in me. Since I knew I was not what the man was looking for in a mate, it didn't serve me any good to get wrapped up in some lust-filled fantasy.

Wade and I had had many conversations about Lachlan over coffee. He liked to vent but also brag about the type of boss he worked for. I heard whenever Lachlan was in a relationship, as Wade would spill all the juicy gossip. Lachlan was on the hunt for a true, traditional omega. Soft, sweet, biddable, Leave it to Beaver , type omegas.

I always thought it was funny the type of omega Wade said Lachlan was looking for. Sweet Alps was one of the more progressive towns on the map when it came to omega rights. While the country as a whole had gotten much more progressive in the last forty years or so, there were still whole sections of people who stuck to the "old ways". The mindset that omegas should not be educated beyond a certain age, that they shouldn't be allowed to own businesses, handle their own finances, or even live on their own. Based on what I knew about how Lachlan ran his business, it surprised me whenever Wade said his boss was looking for a "good little" omega.

Something I most definitely was not.

I was taller than most omegas, which was a major turn-off for many alphas. Most omegas were five foot eight, or smaller, and I hadn't stopped growing until I'd topped out at six-foot and a couple of inches. I took after my alpha father in height, and he and I looked eye to eye when we stood next to each other, towering over my much smaller omega mom .

I did have the willowy omega frame though. In fact, I thought I looked like a freaking string bean. I had some muscles, but you really couldn't see them unless I was naked, and they weren't huge ones. Gigi said I was lithe, like the cat I was.

I loved my independence, and I'd never felt the need to have an alpha take care of me. I made my own money, I had a successful business, and I didn't need an alpha coming in, and taking over. Or expect me to quit my job and stay home, like a good little house omega, popping out babies and keeping my mouth shut. All "Yes, alpha" and "Whatever you want, alpha."

No thank you.

Even if I did find an alpha that would look past all of my physical flaws, the minute I opened my mouth, it was usually all over. My mouth got me in so much shit. I was mouthy. I was snarky. I said a lot of cuss words. Like sailors-at-sea levels of swearing. I didn't put up with anyone's shit. I had sass and I wasn't afraid to use it.

The type of omega Lachlan was looking for, was the same type my ex, Leo, had been looking for. The one and only time I'd attempted to get serious with anyone, it had blown up in my face so spectacularly, I was sure I'd never feel the need to do that nonsense again.

I knew Leo had wanted me to be a softer spoken, quieter omega, after our first date. A stay-at-home, and have babies omega. He'd made it clear what he'd wanted, but also made it clear he wanted to keep seeing me. After a few more dates, he'd confessed his undying love. I'd told him, repeatedly, I wasn't ready for any of the things he wanted, and I didn't know if I ever would be. I'd made it very clear that I strongly stood on the "I don't want any kids" side of the fence.

The final straw had been when I'd popped into The Sweet Spot one Sunday afternoon, after visiting with Gigi at her retirement center, something I did every Sunday morning. We were closed, so there shouldn't have been anyone here, so I was doubly surprised to find not only the front door unlocked but voices coming from the kitchen. My kitchen. The place I didn't let anyone in unless they had a tasting appointment set up. The fact that I recognized Leo's voice immediately, had my anger at full throttle for so many reasons.

Finding Leo in said kitchen, with not only a realtor but also a prospective buyer, for my bakery, had nearly made my head explode. The fallout had been catastrophic as far as swear words were concerned. I'm not sure, but it's quite possible that I invented some new ones that day.

Once the realtor and buyer had left, because of my over-the-top dramatics and the fact that there was clearly not going to be any kind of sale going on, I'd demanded answers from Leo. The first question was how the fuck had he gotten a key to my business. He'd admitted to making a copy from my keyring, one night when he'd slept over at my place. He'd made a pressed mold of the thing. Like something you'd see on a television show. Probably where he'd gotten the idea. Who the fuck even did shit like that?

In trying to win back my love – which he'd never had in the first place, but I didn't feel the need to burst his bubble on his psychopathic daydream – he'd admitted that he'd needed the money from the sale of the bakery to put into his own floundering business.

When I'd pointed out the absolute absurdity of his plan, since he did not own even an inch of my bakery, he'd continued with how he'd planned to get me to marry him, and gain access to my funds that way. He'd also admitted to going through my personal papers, using the key he'd made to snoop in my house when I wasn't home, and found out about my trust fund. A sizable trust that I would be coming into on my twenty-fourth birthday, in April.

Reason number ninety-seven why I didn't let people come to my house for sleepovers, even someone I was ‘seriously' seeing. Lesson learned .

Leo had laid out his plan of marriage, giving him access to my money, since everyone knew omegas didn't have heads for anything financially related. His plan included me staying home to take care of the house, and the babies – plural – while he ran his business.

The idiot had actually seemed upset when I'd marched him right out the back door and told him none of that was going to happen. Especially not with him. Even if any of what he had planned was what I had wanted, the thought of spending the rest of my life with someone who would do the things he'd done, someone who had claimed to love me…I shuddered, thanking my lucky stars every day I'd stopped at the bakery that afternoon.

Shaking myself out of the unpleasant memories, I glanced over at the clock on the wall, and then the timer on the oven. The next batch of my chocolate toffee chip cookies – one of our best sellers – had a couple more minutes to go. Josh was out front, taking orders from our morning regulars and mixing up magical coffee concoctions. I kept an ear out for the bell over the front door, which jingled whenever someone came in.

I usually liked to staff at least three employees out front for the morning rushes. Today, we were short by two. Both Jennifer and Stacy, my part-time college students, had called in sick. ‘Twas the cold, flu, aching, coughing, fever season, leaving Josh to deal with the morning rush alone, while I finished up in the kitchen area.

Once this batch of cookies came out, I'd deposit them in the front case and help Josh out front. The door was dinging steadily now, and it was just after half-past seven. While we opened at six and did a strong business of early morning regulars, we always saw a huge influx of people between seven and eight every weekday morning.

I shot Wade a quick text.

Me: You coming in for your usual ?

Wade usually stopped in every weekday to get himself and Lachlan coffees. Most days he would also grab something sweet for Lachlan, to get him through his morning meetings.

Wade: Not today. Woke up with a cold. Boss man is on his own. Lord knows how many things he will mess up that I'll need to fix tomorrow. I've ordered him not to touch anything.

I grinned. He ran Lachlan's office, and Lachlan, like the little brat he was.

Me: He did fine before you started working for him.

Wade: It's cute that you both think that. You're both wrong, but whatevs.

I was on my way out front, still warm cookies on a tray, when I heard Josh yell for help. I grinned, pushing the swinging doors open with my butt. "I'm here."

The line started at the register and was almost to the point that people would need to stand outside, or wind around the few tables we had for seating. I put the cookies in the case, tugging at my hair. Making sure the short ponytail I'd pulled my wild curls into for baking, was still secure, I nudged Josh away from the register.

"I'll run the register. You make the coffee." I told him, smiling.

"Thank God," he grinned, happily moving over. Josh and the cash register had a love/hate relationship. He swore the thing never worked for him. I don't know what he did to the register, but he had all kinds of trouble with the thing.

I was about to take our next customer's order when a body – a big body – rushed through the door. He never looked up from the phone in his hand, just bypassed the line, and cut in front of the already waiting customers.

I glanced up at the commotion he was causing, straight into the ice blue eyes of the most sinfully delicious-looking alpha I'd ever seen.

Lachlan Sinclair.

My cat purred, humming contentedly .

Was it hot in here?

I was suddenly burning up, my whole body awash with heat. It had to be from standing in front of hot ovens the last few hours. There was no other explanation.

I didn't need my cat, or my out-of-control hormones, getting excited by this alpha.

He was rude. He had just cut the long line filled with my loyal customers, and I disliked rude ass people more than anything.

Hot or not, there was no excuse for cutting lines.

"The line is back there." I pointed, waving one long, slender hand at him.

He squinted at me, as if the words had taken a moment to penetrate his brain, and then glanced over his shoulder, his custom gray suit showing off their broadness to perfection.

I did love a man who could wear a suit well. Suit porn, thy name is Lachlan Sinclair.

My cat not only purred, but he also roared. Down , I told him. He's rude. We don't like that. He's not for us. Besides, he wants a good, quiet omega to keep house, and get fat with pups. We are none of those things.

"I'm in a hurry. I have a meeting to get to, and I'm already late for it." His deep, growly voice made me shiver.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I did not need to be attracted to this man. My cat gave no fucks about any of that. My cat wanted to slide right up on this alpha and lick every inch of him.

"I'm sure all of our customers have somewhere important to be this morning," I said sweetly and smiled my best, brightest smile. I knew I had a great smile, even if I had my fakest one gracing my face right now. "Plan better next time. Perhaps leave your house earlier."

He seemed not to notice my megawatt smile. Which was good, I told myself, even though a small part of me was a little disappointed .

"Pardon me?" He seemed confused and annoyed by me if his tone was any indication.

"Leave your house earlier. Other people want coffee too, and they have places to be. Plan accordingly." My smile never left my face, but my voice had a touch of a bite to it. My mom would call it my ‘tone'. Watch your tone, Quinn , was something I heard a lot of growing up. My tone was just fine, thank you very much.

His icy blue eyes stared at me, then did a slow blink. He had silver in his jet-black hair, just a bit at the temples, and it was sexy as fuck. A barely-there, dark mustache and beard covered the outline of his upper lip and chiseled jaw, and I fought the urge to rub against it with my cheek.

I just continued staring into those eyes of his, not blinking. I'd seen his eyes in pictures, I knew they were blue, but they were even more ridiculous up close. The lightest, clearest…aqua was the only word that came close to doing them justice. Or teal? Jesus, what was I now? A writer for Crayola crayons?

His eyes were blue. Just blue. Boring, ordinary blue.

I knew from Wade he was tall, could see it in pictures, but…damn. Wade was always blathering on about how tall Lachlan was, but at five foot six, everyone was tall to Wade. His judgment couldn't be trusted in anything tall-related. Most children were taller than him.

This alpha was what Gigi would call a tall drink of water. Lachlan had to be at least six foot five. He towered over me by several inches. I'd have to stretch a little to kiss him. I blinked, not knowing where that thought had come from. Kissing him? Why was I even thinking of kissing him? Time to get this runaway train back on track.

Broad too , my cat chimed in his two cents, not helping in the slightest. He's like two of us in width. Look at the size of that chest. Hmmm….he'd keep us warm at night, all wrapped around us. He's definitely a big spoon .

I ignored my cat, telling him to zip it. He'd had no opinions on anyone most of my life, but now he was ready to roll over and present to the hottest alpha we'd crossed paths with.

Hot and rude, I reminded myself.

"Look, I'll pay extra," he tossed out, his eyes not even on me now, but on the chocolate toffee chip cookies I'd just put in the case. I could practically see the drool pooling in the corner of his mouth. His eyes dilated a little, almost as if the sight of those cookies – my cookies – turned him on.

Another rush of heat washed over my body, and I could feel a trickle of sweat forming on the back of my neck. What was wrong with me? I'd better not be getting everyone's colds.

Rude people did not get my cookies. I didn't care how much extra he was willing to pay, or how drop-dead gorgeous he was.

I pointed to the back of the line. "The line is back there. Please go to the end of it, and wait your turn," I said sweetly, using my fake as fuck customer service voice while turning to the customer Lachlan had bypassed on his way to the front. "Your regular, Sam?"

"Please," said the sweet omega, Sam, who came in every morning for coffee. He looked like he didn't want to stand too close to the hulking alpha, who'd nearly plowed him down. I rang up Sam's order and took his money, completely ignoring Lachlan.

"Look –" Lachlan started in that low, deep timber of his, with his ‘you're wasting my time' tone.

"No, you look." I pointed at him, my temper flaring. "The line is back there. End of story. Either you wait your turn, or you take your business somewhere else."

The next customer in line muttered, "It's fine. Just give him what he wants, so he can get on with his day."

Grrrrr…that wasn't going to teach him anything .

I glared, took a deep breath, and tried to push my temper down. "Fine. What would you like?"

He'd better not even say any cookies. He was NOT getting any of my cookies.

He did at least turn to the customer who had essentially given up his spot to him. With a much softer tone, he said, "Thank you. It's just that I'm really late for a meeting."

I wasn't fooled by that. He was still a rude, entitled alpha, late for a meeting or not. I didn't care if Wade told me what a wonderful boss he was, and an overall nice guy. Nice guys didn't cut lines.

"Um…" He chewed on his bottom lip, and goddammit if that wasn't almost adorable.

Almost.

Fuck, I wanted to bite that plump lip of his. Kiss those lips, and nip that bottom lip, until it was red and swollen.

My cat purred louder, but I ignored that out-of-control asshole.

"I'm not sure what my assistant usually gets me. Maybe you know?" Gone was the harsh tone he'd had, and in its place was a hopefulness, tinged with a little…was that shyness? Surely that wasn't what I was hearing in his voice. "He's a regular here. Wade. He comes here every day. He knows the owner."

I stared at him with my green eyes, not blinking, my face impassive. Oh, he did not just try to name-drop. With my name.

Of course, I knew his order.

I pursed my lips, blinking my eyes innocently. "Sorry, I don't have a clue. I'm new here."

Josh snorted, then choked on a cough, but kept his head down, not ratting me out for my lies. He wasn't even making eye contact, from what I could tell. Neither were any of our regular customers, who knew who I was.

Lachlan glanced up at the board, his eyes roaming over all the specialty coffee drinks. "I guess just give me the quickest thing you can."

He was looking at his watch now, really late for that important meeting of his, I guessed.

I grabbed a large cup, poured black coffee in it, and put a lid on it. Knowing that he hated black coffee. Nope, he liked his coffee flavored and sweet enough to get a cavity from one hit of it. I placed the coffee in front of him and rang it up. "A dollar fifty."

"And some of those chocolate toffee chip cookies, please," he added.

"No." My voice was firm.

Everyone stopped talking at once. It was creepy and eerie, as if all the noise had been sucked away. You could almost feel the tension strumming between the two of us, like a live wire.

"I'm sorry, what?" His voice was soft, but the edge from earlier was back.

"Which letter did you not understand?" I questioned, abandoning my customer service skills altogether. "The ‘N' or the ‘O'?"

Oh, I'd done it now.

I could tell by his face. He was pissed with a capital P. His body went rigid, all his muscles tight beneath his expensive suit. His teeth clenched, and I was sure there was a slight tic in his right jaw.

"Get your manager." His voice was hard, and I'm sure when he used it, everyone usually jumped to do his bidding.