3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Lachlan

"Get your manager," I growled.

I knew I was using my Alpha voice, but I didn't care. I was still grouchy, my morning run and shift not helping much. I still felt off, like my skin was too tight for my body. I was tired. I was late for a meeting with the Foundation's board of directors. I was hungry. I wanted my coffee. The kind of coffee Wade always brought me, not this straight cup of black crap this gorgeous, smart-mouthed omega had tried to hand me.

I wanted some cookies, dammit. Those cookies. Those warm, fragrant, chocolate, toffee chip cookies, which are my absolute favorites.

I would live off those cookies if anyone would let me.

Though I did love the red velvet cupcakes, with that cream cheese frosting too. I had dreams about that frosting. I wanted to see if I could just buy that frosting, and smear it all over…well, someone and lick it off. Maybe when I found my mate. Until that happened, I'd be happy with a spoon, eating it straight from a bowl. I had no shame.

My absolute favorite, after those cookies, were the scones. Those fucking scones were better than the ones I'd had in England. The ones that had started me on my whole love of scones journey in the first place. The blueberry lemon ones were my favorite. Maybe the chocolate cherry. I couldn't decide, I loved them all.

My sweet tooth was an out-of-control monster. Always had been, ever since I was a kid. If it wasn't for the fact that I was tall, broad, and ran every morning, I'd probably weigh a trillion pounds.

The omega in front of me, with those light green eyes like pieces of glass, smiled sweetly at me again.

Oh, his smile was good – that smile could knock someone's pants off – but I knew he was faking it. Those stunning eyes of his gave him away. He wanted to toss my ass out on the street.

He was gorgeous, from his long feet, housed by dark purple vans, to his russet hair, held off his shoulders by a short ponytail. It was a mixture of dark brown, and dark red, and it gleamed warmly in the overhead lights. He was tall, at least six feet or more, lanky, and beautiful. His cheekbones could cut glass, and his lips were full and pouty, and the perfect shade of delectable pink.

"I am the manager." Each word was enunciated sharply.

Of course, he was, because that was how my day was going. I should have just stayed in bed and faked a cold.

"Get me the owner then. Is he on-site?" Now I was not only using my Alpha voice but also my ‘boss man business' voice. That's what Wade called it. My youngest brother, Jamie, would say I was using my ‘I'm a Sinclair' voice, and you'd better respect that. He would follow that by adding, "Don't be a dick, Lach." I hated it when I heard that tone in my voice. It made me cringe every time I used it.

"You want the owner?" He didn't sound concerned at all .

That should have been my first clue that this wasn't going to end well for me. Most people, most omegas, would have shown some fear, or trepidation, at least.

I hated when they did. Hated that I could make someone fear me, by just my voice, and my size and orientation.

Not this omega. He wasn't scared of me at all. I would be able to smell it on him if he was. I smelled nothing but his natural scent of cookies, with a bit of cinnamon. He smelled like cookies, because why wouldn't he?

He would smell like something I loved. Warm chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven.

My mouth did not water from the smell of him, and my cock did not get any chub. It didn't.

I finally noticed the silence filling the shop. It was as if every single person in there was holding their breath. Just watching the big bad alpha wolf terrorize the little omega – I sniffed – cat? He was definitely a shifter, not a human, and some kind of feline.

I took a deeper whiff, smelling beyond the pheromones he was putting off, trying to figure out just what exactly he was. A cat for sure. Not a housecat, or lion or tiger, but something else, because they smelled differently than he did. I just couldn't put my finger on it quite yet. He smelled like heaven, but I refused to acknowledge that fact.

"I want the owner," I repeated, my voice a growl.

He held up one slender finger, in the universal sign of ‘hang on a second'. His hands were lean, like the rest of him. His fingers long, and something about the way he moved his hands, made my wolf howl. His hands were beautiful. The way he moved them was graceful and almost mesmerizing. I couldn't tear my eyes from his hands.

When had I started finding hands beautiful? I didn't know, but I did know that I desperately wanted to feel those hands on me .

Touching me. Stroking me. Inside me.

"I'll go get him."

He went through the swinging doors, and I resisted the urge to tap one foot. I thought I heard the other employee behind the counter snort. My pointed look in his direction had him ducking his head, hiding his face from my view. He fussed with one of the many coffee machines, then quickly took care of ringing up the customer that had been behind me. The one I had rudely moved in front of.

I made a point of pulling out my phone and scrolling through my emails, just so I didn't have to address the many eyes I felt on my back. I was being a total ass. I knew I was.

I wasn't normally a rude or unkind person, I wasn't. My behavior was so unlike me, but I was in a mood and didn't feel like reining myself in. Everyone was allowed to have a bad day, and today was my day.

God help me if any of my brothers saw me behaving this way. I'd never hear the end of it.

Brendan would shake his head, and say "Really Lach?" in his quiet, disapproving voice.

Finn would just stare at me, his face like granite, unsmiling, and not say a word. He didn't need to; I knew what he would be thinking. Finn was the master of not saying a word, while still seeing straight into your soul.

My breathing picked up, my chest growing tight, as I tried to look around to see if anyone was filming our exchange with their cell phones. I was not behaving in a proper manner for the Sinclair Alpha heir, and I knew it. The last thing I needed was for this to wind up on some internet site. This was exactly the kind of behavior, and public situation, my father had always warned me about avoiding.

In my defense, I desperately needed my caffeine and sugar fix. Wade calling in sick had thrown my entire day off even more than it had already been. As much as I liked to say I didn't need him, we both knew it was a complete and total lie.

I might be an alpha, and run a billion-dollar company, but I was complete shit with organization. I much preferred numbers and spreadsheets over people. Well, socializing with people anyway. I generally liked people; I just didn't like being the center of attention. I always felt like all eyes were on me, all the time.

Watching me. Judging me. Waiting for me to do something that wouldn't be deemed appropriate behavior. Like the way I was behaving right now.

I could command a board room, but I'd swallow a roll of tums before I did it. I rubbed at the tight ball that had taken up residence in my chest.

Being the center of any attention gave me fucking anxiety.

Wade was constantly telling me I needed to relax.

Running The Sinclair Foundation called for good instincts, watchful eyes, and a sharp mind. Relaxation did not belong in any of that. If I kept myself fueled with sweet treats and even sweeter coffee, that was my business. It was my way of coping with my life. I just ran extra miles to offset the calories.

I looked up when I heard the swish of the swinging doors, my eyes narrowed into slits. Either the omega had a twin, or the one I'd been harassing – yeah, I said it – was the owner. Wade's friend. Wade's best friend. There was a good chance this was all going to end badly for me.

He'd pulled his hair from the ponytail, and I sucked in a breath at all those wild curls. They tumbled about his head in messy disarray, coming to rest just on the tops of his shoulders.

His hair was thick and couldn't seem to decide what color it wanted to be. The wild mixture of brown, auburn, and red was even more visible now that it was out of the confines of the rubber band .

My mouth watered, and I had to clench my fists tightly. My hands needed to stay at my sides, where they belonged. My hands did not belong buried in his hair. They wanted to be, but they most certainly did not belong there.

His curls weren't tight ringlets, but lush waves all over his head. I had an ex once who'd had the same hair, only longer and blonder. What had she called it? Beach hair? Yeah, he totally had beach hair. Or maybe sex hair. His hair looked like he'd just had a good, hard fuck, and he'd tumbled out of bed.

Not only was my wolf carrying on, but my dick was also stirring more. Telling them both to get down, I was glad my suit jacket covered my groin area. The last thing I needed was to be sporting a boner in a bakery.

He stuck out one of his hands, those long beautiful fingers beckoning me to reach out and touch him.

"Quinn Rafferty, owner."

The little shit , my mind sputtered, while my wolf panted loudly in my ear.

The omega – Quinn – was smirking. Gone was that false, customer service, megawatt smile. He'd replaced it with an honest to God smirk, that he wasn't making any effort to hide.

The little shit , my brain repeated, because there seemed to be no other words my mind could supply to describe him.

Trying to remember my manners, I took his hand in mine and gasped at the touch of our skin. I was not prepared for the electric shock that ran through my body when our hands met. My wolf howled, and the zing went from my arm, straight down to my dick. Holy fuck, what was that?

Mate. Mine. Mate.

My wolf howled at me, whining.

Fated mate, my brain supplied, when it zinged back online .

Fated mates were just a fairytale told to children. It didn't happen in real life. I'd never believed in them. No one believed in fated mates anymore. A person that Fate herself had picked for you? A person that was the missing piece of your soul? I don't think so.

His green orbs widened, his pupils dilating. He jerked his hand from mine like he'd been burned with grease from a scalding pan.

"No, no, no, oh fuck no." He was chanting like a mad man.

My throat seized, and I couldn't breathe properly. I couldn't even think. My brain had short-circuited. And in that instant, I knew exactly what kind of shifter he was.

Leopard.

Even in the shifter world, they were rare.

The cookie scent of him was sharper now, more focused. It filled my nostrils with his alluring scent. When our hands had touched, his smell had become stronger, amped up. My mouth watered, and I wanted nothing more than to taste him.

For the first time in our encounter, he was upset. I could smell it on him. There was something mixed in with it, another scent. He wasn't just upset, he was…he was turned on. And, not at all happy about it.

He was my mate. My fated mate. I knew it like I knew my own name.

My thoughts echoed his, as the reality of the situation crashed down on my head.

No, no, no, hell no.

Not this omega.

It couldn't be. He was absolutely everything I did not want in a mate.

I was just going to ignore what had just happened, whatever the hell it was. Good luck with that, my wolf snarked. Shut it, I told him.

That hand that had zapped me, was pointing to a sign on the wall, above his head. My eyes traveled from that beautiful, graceful hand, to that long finger, to where my mate was pointing. The kind of sign that stated management had the right to refuse service to anyone, for any reason.

Was he fucking kidding me right now?

I saw the twinkle in his green eyes, and the smirk was back – that damn smirk – and I knew he wasn't kidding.

"I'm refusing you service," he told me. Quinn. His name was Quinn, not him, or that omega. Quinn. Mate. "Please take your coffee and go. Have a wonderfully pleasant day, Alpha hole."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Gulped in a breath of air, and my senses were flooded with his smell once more. I wanted to jump over the counter that separated us, grab him, and sink my teeth into his neck, right where his shoulder met. Right where his mating gland was, and make him mine.

Reaching blindly into my pocket, I pulled out my money and peeled off the first bill. I tossed it on the counter, not knowing what it was, but knowing it was more than enough to cover the cost of the coffee, plus a generous tip.

He – Quinn – tucked it into the register, with a cheery, "Thanks for the big tip! I do love a big tip."

I grabbed my coffee and calmly left the shop, but not before calling out, "There are plenty of other bakeries in town, you know?"

"Please go find one,." he sassed, calling my bluff.

I was all smug until I realized I still didn't have my cookies. Or good coffee. Or my mate.

Twenty minutes later, I was still trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened to my life when I felt my cell phone vibrate. Pulling it out, I saw it was a text from Wade, and frowned. Shouldn't he be passed out on cold medicine by now? I'd told him I could handle things without him.

Wade: What. Did. You. Do.??!! !

Uh oh . I sat my coffee on my desk. The black coffee, that was so… black. Ick. No way was I drinking that. Not like it was. It would need cream and sugar. Lots of sugar.

My phone vibrated again. I wanted to ignore it but knew I'd have hell to pay if I even tried it.

Wade: Can you not be trusted alone for even an hour??? Skype. Now!

It wasn't Skype, but I knew what he meant. Wade always called the instant messaging system we used at work Skype. This meant he wanted to be able to type faster than he could on his phone. That was never good because he could text pretty damn fast.

Yeah, he was ticked at me.

I could almost hear the angry thumping of his fingers as they pounded against the keyboard. I booted up my computer and signed in. I really shouldn't be surprised, considering Quinn was his best friend. I was surprised he'd already heard about this morning's events, though. I really shouldn't have been. I was half convinced Wade possessed superpowers.

BossMan: Shouldn't you be sleeping off your cold? I need you back here as soon as possible .

BestPAEver: You utter wanker! Do you have any idea what you've done, you twat? And I'm high on cold medicine, so I'm not to be held responsible for anything I type.

BossMan: Have you been watching Bond movies again? Or reading fanfic?

BestPAEver : Don't you judge me, Judgy McJudgerson! Only the Craig/Whishaw ones.

BossMan: Is there any other kind?

I sighed, a picture of Ben Whishaw's elegant hands flashing through my mind, when he portrayed Q from the James Bond franchise. I had such a Q kink. Not that I didn't have a Bond kink, but Q did it for me. Brilliant omegas with dry, snarky senses of humor, and sassy, smart mouths. Tousled curls, lithe forms. Beautiful, graceful hands, with long, thin fingers, and sparkling green eyes.

My wolf snickered.

Oh. Fuck. Me.

A picture of Quinn Rafferty replaced the picture in my mind. Except for that russet hair of his, he had a lot of the same qualities I secretly jacked off to in the shower. Or in front of the television, in the middle of my thousandth re-watch of "Skyfall."

No, no, no. Fate was so fucking wrong with this shit.

BestPAEver: You have such a Q kink! Don't you dare try to change the subject either! What did you do?

I took a sip of my coffee, wincing at the bitterness, and spit it back into the cup. I'm sure it was good coffee. It just needed something . Cream and sugar, and sugar, and more sugar.

I could doctor it up in our break room. Did I even know where our break room was? I thought for a minute. I wasn't sure I'd ever actually been in the break room. I had a personal assistant, and coffee doctored the exact way I liked it just always magically appeared in front of me. I should consider giving Wade another raise.

BossMan: I'm sure I don't know what you're speaking of.

Playing dumb seemed like my best course of action.

BestPAEver: Let's go over the facts. Cutting in line. Demanding service. Being rude. Pulling the big, bad alpha card. Name dropping. Any of this ringing a bell?

How did he know this? It hadn't even been an hour. Had Quinn dialed him as soon as I had made it outside?

BossMan: Do you have spies?

This wasn't the first time I'd posed this question to him. He always seemed to know everything, about everything. God help me if he and my mom ever teamed up together.

I could almost hear his fingers hitting the keys, as I watched the little icon that said ‘ BestPAEver is typing….'

BestPAEver: You know Quinn is my best friend, you wanker! Best. Friend. How do you think I always have goodies for you? I get to officially taste test new recipes, and I always share them with you. I'm nice like that. How do you think I knew about the savory scones? They aren't even on the menu yet! You almost got both of us banned! But I at least can keep getting my coffee every morning. My coffee. Not yours. That was made explicitly clear to me. I'm no longer allowed any goodies during the week, so that I can't be a "traitor, and give them to the utter dick of an asshat you work for behind my back." That was a direct quote, by the way.

My heart sank. No more specialty coffee? With the mocha, and the peppermint, and the chocolate shavings, and whatever other hocus pocus wizardry they used to make it the sheer perfection it was? No more cookies? No cupcakes with that frosting I wanted to lick off someone's naughty parts? No more scones?

I would die. Truly die. Even my wolf was whimpering.

BossMan: How do I fix this?

Groveling wasn't beneath me.

Not where Quinn's baked goods were involved.

BestPAEver: Go APOLOGIZE, you arse!

That seemed so simple. Why hadn't I thought of that?

I felt like my brain had short-circuited when our hands had touched.

BossMan: So, I just say I'm sorry?

Instead of an answer, Wade sent a gif, of a person laughing so hard they fell out of their office chair .

Well, that wasn't helpful.

I glanced at my watch, knowing the conference room was already filled with the board of directors, all waiting on me. They could wait. My name was on the damn door and their paychecks, after all. That had to mean something. This was more important. I had to make this right.

BestPAEver: Ohhhh, a simple I'm sorry isn't going to cut it. You need to grovel like you've never groveled before. DO NOT go all alpha on him. He doesn't respond to that. At all.

He'll just get defensive and he is already PISSED. Like, he stopped using cuss words when he was talking to me, pissed. When that happens, he's scary mad. Like ‘I will hide your body and help them look for you' pissed.

Grovel. I could do that, no problem. My wolf started laughing.

I would do a lot for those cookies Quinn made. Even grovel.

BestPAEver: By the way, don't forget your date tonight.

Wade switched subjects like he changed his hair color, frequent and often, but I was used to it.

His mind was always whirling in a thousand different directions, and I'd learned to pivot.

My date tonight. I sighed, feeling nothing of the excitement I should be feeling.

I'd been delighted about it last week when I'd made the plans. Now it just left a bad feeling in my stomach. This was what I'd wanted, wasn't it? I'd one hundred percent thought so, until this morning.

Now…now going on this date, it just felt all wrong.

BossMan: I won't forget. I'm a capable alpha, even when you aren't here.

BestPAEver: Oh, that's some funny stuff! Keep telling yourself that. I'm not the one that got myself banned from my favorite bakery.