8. Meggie

8

Meggie

I wasn't expecting military officers. I knew they would have security checkpoints, but this is more intense than I imagined. Two men dressed in American military uniforms stand at the checkpoint next to a French security officer. One of the Americans has a German Shepherd sitting at his feet on a leash. We weren't planning on dogs.

I'm so glad I made Nils repack my suppressants and blockers in the van on the way from the airport. We decided it would be best to put them in nondescript vitamin bottles for the flight. Nils insisted that airport luggage scanners would have flagged it as weird if I hid the pills in a bottle of lotion or something like that. But having pills or vitamins isn't a problem and never flagged airport security. They're looking for explosives and weapons, mostly.

But with the consequences of being discovered at the Olympics so high, I was too nervous to just leave them in the pill bottles. So once we were in Paris, Nils wrapped the small pills in multiple zipping plastic bags and stuffed them inside shampoo bottles, completely hidden. It's a good thing I was so paranoid since the shampoo should hide the smell from the dogs and there's no way anyone will see them, even if they open the bottles. I hope.

"It'll be fine," Ellis whispers with his arm around my shoulder as we wait at the back of the line.

"They're looking for bombs. Not meds," Dante reassures from my other side.

"What about steroids?" I snark back at him.

"Okay, fine, that too, but you still don't need to worry."

They both move closer, trapping me between them, letting their scents mingle to soothe me. I take a deep inhale, like a drug addict taking a hit. I can't get enough of them. My muscles release some of the tension, but their comfort doesn't ease the knot in my belly or the way my heart is racing.

If the International Olympic Committee finds my suppressants, we'll all be kicked out before we even compete. We'll be shunned and shamed and never given a chance to play the sport we love again. My men will hate me and not want me as their omega. Especially McQuinn. He'll never forgive me. The Olympics matter most to him and he already doesn't like me and—

"You're spiraling, gorgeous," Nils says from close behind me. "Take a deep breath. In through your nose. Out through your mouth."

He leads me through a few breaths, making me drag in their calming, summery scents with each inhale.

McQuinn reaches the security guard ahead of me, and my heart freezes in my chest. He looks surprisingly relaxed considering he's about to smuggle illegal drugs into the Olympic Village. He insisted, and Nils agreed, that it would be best for him to hide the suppressants and blockers in his things. I'm still not sure why he volunteered. It's not like he likes me. Maybe it was just a way to gain favor with Nils.

"Badge," the French officer says with a harsh tone and a thick accent.

McQuinn hands him the ID badge all the athletes received. While the officer flips it over to study the picture, the man holding the dog's leash circles our group, weaving between me and McQuinn. The dog spends an extra long time sniffing my bag, and I freeze even though I know there's nothing problematic in there.

McQuinn cracks jokes with the man checking his ID, as if this is an everyday occurrence for him. I'm a little awed by how cool and collected my normally hot-headed teammate is under pressure.

With one eye on McQuinn, I keep the other on the stone-faced alpha, walking through my pack with the dog. He doesn't look that much older than Harrison, but his short beard is speckled with gray and it gives him a commanding presence that makes me want to shrink away from him.

He stops for a moment by Emily. My heart sputters. She doesn't have anything. I know that. So why is this man making me feel so nervous? I guess breaking the law makes it challenging to be around law enforcers. This is the first time I've experienced it, and I don't care for it at all.

The alpha with the dog pauses, sniffs, his eyes close for a moment, then fly open to take in my best friend. Is that a spark? Is she sharing a moment with a man who could easily put me in prison?

No. Nope. Not happening. I loop my arm in Em's and pull her forward so the French officer will check her badge next, dragging her away from the chiseled jawline of the man with the German Shepherd.

My heart beat slows only marginally once McQuinn is through security with his bag and my pills safely inside the Olympic Village. I shouldn't still feel so anxious as they search the rest of us, but the adrenaline persists long after the danger is over.

It's only once all of us are through, and Emily wraps her arm around mine, that I finally start to relax and take in where we are. It's incredible. Everything I imagined and more. Banners hang from balconies designating the country each building is hosting. All the US teams are staying in the same building, so even though Em and I won't be rooming together, we'll be close.

We hold on to each other as we walk through the grassy common area to find where we'll be living for the next two weeks. When I spot the Olympic rings, I make the guys and Emily take a group selfie with me. This is something that needs to be commemorated.

It sort of reminds me of the first day Em and I moved into our college dorm. People are everywhere, pulling luggage and waving to friends. Greeting people they clearly haven't seen in a while. There's a sense of excitement and nerves. An eagerness. We're all here for the same thing. The same purpose. We've all worked hard to get here and there's an understanding that comes with that. A basic camaraderie.

Add to that the wonder of so many cultures and languages, all connecting and socializing together, and it's kind of amazing.

We all brought our Team USA uniforms, jackets, hats, socks, and duffel bags with us naturally, but I'm unprepared for the amount of other things dumped on us as we arrive. Team USA towels, sunglasses, sandals, bracelets, and water bottles. I think someone actually gives Dante a new phone, but I can't be sure because someone was plopping a whole ass comforter in my hands at the same time.

Some of the largest companies in the world brand their stuff with the Olympic logo and hand it out to us. I guess hoping we'll be seen using these things, and it'll promote their brand. But I can't see how anyone's going to spot the comforter I'm using inside my room.

Or the handful of condoms branded with the Olympic rings.

"I need another duffel bag," I laugh at Em as we both try to maneuver things into the reusable shopping bags and totes.

She holds up a rectangular purse-type bag on a wide strap. "I can't tell if it's a cross body or a fanny pack, but who cares? We're really here!"

Em's tone is full of awe and eagerness. She does an excited little spin on her toes, grabbing my hands and forcing me to spin with her. Her giddiness is contagious.

"Come on, you two. We still have to find our rooms. You can celebrate later," Harrison says.

I let go of Emily and saddle up to him. "You have to admit this is exciting, Harrison." Bumping my hip against his, I smirk at him, wanting him to drop his stoic calm just a little. "Don't you feel excited, daddy?"

"Don't call me that." His eyes narrow in a glare. "You're not my daughter, and I'm not your fucking dad."

I feel the warmth of a blush creep up my cheeks as my imagination runs. I lean in, wanting to make him snap, wondering what he'll do if that cool control breaks. "Do you prefer The Olympic's Grinch?"

Oz stifles a laugh behind his hand.

Harrison's smile is slow, casual and indulgent. "You can call me whatever the hell you want, Meggie. For now."

There's a promise in those last two words that has my thighs clenching and my mind working overtime to figure out what Harrison would want me to call him in bed. What does he like in the bedroom? Will he be vocal like Dante or sweet like Ellis? Has he even had enough sexual experience to know what he truly likes?

He smirks, as if he knows exactly the direction of my thoughts. With a hand on my lower back, he leads us towards the dorms while I test out sexy nicknames in my mind.