Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

H arper

After the interview, I’m left with two clear days to choose an outfit for my date. The cook-out dented my confidence. The chic Paris look doesn’t suit the laid-back style of Rockview. I have no idea what people even wear on dates anymore. It’s been forever since I’ve been on one.

By Friday afternoon, I’m still undecided and irritated as hell.

I call Molly who tells me, helpfully, to wear whatever I feel comfortable in.

“My pajamas?” I say sarcastically, because nothing else feels comfortable today, it’s all too itchy, too tight or too hot. So hot. Why does it have to be so hot in Rockview all the time?

“Obviously not your pajamas,” Molly says, “but seriously, Harper, whatever you like. The date is about getting to know each other – you need to be yourself.”

I hang up, open my wardrobe door and stare at my reflection, wondering if I even know who I am anymore. Two months ago I was working in the most famous art gallery in the world, I had an apartment overlooking the Seine and a sophisticated French boyfriend. Now the only job I have is one working for a major douchebag, I’m living back at my mom’s place, and I’m struggling to find anyone I’m really interested in. (And itchy, damn itchy. I scratch at my skin. Freaking mosquitoes.)

Except there are three people I am interested in – but they are out of bounds.

I slam the wardrobe shut and go in search of my mom.

I find her sitting in the lounge, flicking through a magazine, the dogs curled up on the sofa beside her. It’s still strange seeing my mom actually relaxing. Before she met Ethan, she was always rushing from one nursing shift to the next. She often had to take on extra shifts or work nights and I’d end up staying with Mrs. Morecomb three apartments down or home alone. She rarely had time to sit. It makes me love Ethan that little bit more.

“Hey sweetie pie,” she says, looking up from her page as I slump down on the sofa next to her and the dogs.

I point down at Death and Terror. “I thought they weren’t allowed in the lounge.”

“They’re not.” She spots the grumpy look on my face. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know what to wear for this date.” I pout like I’m five years old again, snatching the magazine and using it to fan my warm face.

“Really? You brought so many lovely clothes home from Paris.”

“But are they right for a date? Aren’t they a bit dressy? Is that what alphas want?”

“Does it matter what alphas want?”

“Well, no. But I’d like to make a good impression.”

“Hmmm,” she says, “we could ask an alpha what they like. I could call Daxton and ask for his advice?” She reaches for the cell in her pocket.

“No!” I snap, catching her wrist, “do not ask Daxton!”

“Why not? Your advice has proven super helpful to his pack. Do you know they’ve been on three more dates this week? And I’m still getting all those calls from moms. Maybe his advice would benefit you in the same way.”

I go to tell her no a second time, but she’s already hit dial and the cell is ringing by her ear.

I cringe, wondering if I get up and start running now, I can make it to the door before he answers.

“Hello love,” my mom says, before I’ve even lifted my butt from the couch. “Do you have a moment?”

Silence.

Please say no. Please say no. Please be elbows deep in surgery or in bed with another omega.

Actually, forget the omega thing. Say you’ve seen the light and are this very moment signing up to join a monastery.

That would solve all my problems.

Although, Daxton dressed as a priest …

Wyatt taking confession …

I fan the magazine more aggressively as my mom giggles.

“It won’t take long. I just need a little bit of advice,” she says. “Well, actually, Harper does. Hang on, let me put you on speaker phone.” I shake my head wildly, but she’s already hit the button again. “There. Can you hear us?”

“I can hear you,” Daxton says down the line.

I have never wanted lightning to strike me as much as I do right now.

“Harper,” my mom says, pointing towards her cell, “go ahead and tell him your dilemma.”

“Really, it’s fine. I don’t–”

“What’s wrong?” Daxton says, sounding concerned.

My mom gestures again but I can’t make my mouth work. She rolls her eyes and leans closer to the cell.

“Harper has a date tonight. With a pack. Isn’t that great? But she’s stuck on what to wear and we were hoping we might be able to grab an alpha’s perspective.”

There’s silence down the other end.

A long, long silence.

“Daxton?” my mom says, “are you still there?”

“I’m still here,” he says. His voice sounding flat.

“Great! What do you think Harper should wear on this date?”

Inwardly, I cringe again and hope he knows it wasn’t my idea to ask him.

“I don’t think I am the best one to offer wardrobe advice,” he says. And is it me, or does he sound pissed?

“But you’re a male. You’re an alpha. You know what you like. What do you think Harper would look good in?”

“It’s okay,” I say, “I’ll work something out. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t be silly,” my mom says. “You were very helpful to Daxton. I’m sure his advice would benefit you.”

More silence. Finally Daxton mutters, “Harper looks good in everything.”

“She does,” my mom agrees. “But she hasn’t been on a date for a long time. What do people wear on dates these days?”

Another pause. “Things are pretty relaxed. It’s mostly all sweat-pants and t-shirts these days,” Daxton says.

“You think she should wear sweat-pants?” my mom asks, looking confused.

“Thanks, Daxton,” I say, snatching my mom’s cell. “I’ll think about that.” I hit end call.

“What did you do that for? He was being helpful.”

“I’d rather figure this out myself.” I turn my head and look at my mom. “What were you wearing when you first met Ethan?”

“My nursing scrubs, Snuffles. Hardly very glamorous.”

“How about your first date?”

“Ahhh,” she says, her eyes misting over as she remembers. “I wore the only decent thing I had in my wardrobe – my little black dress.” She leans closer to me. “And he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. You can’t really go wrong with a little black dress. Do you have one?”

“Yes,” I say, chewing my cheek, “but you don’t think it would be … you know …”

“Maybe a bit of … you know … would be a good thing, Harper.” She reaches over and curls my hair around my ear. “You’ve spent a lot of the last two weeks hidden away in your bedroom. I’m worried about you. Are you depressed?”

“No, just sorting things out. I applied for two more jobs today,” I say, puffing out my chest with pride.

“Excellent, they’d be fools not to snap you up!” She smiles at me. “Yes, I think you should go with the little black dress. It proved lucky for me and I just have this feeling – call it mommy intuition – that it will be lucky for you.”

“Mommy intuition?” I say skeptically.

“Hey, I was right about that cook-out.”

“Hmmm,” I say, “okay, the little black dress it is. Thanks Mom.” I kiss her cheek and head off to get myself ready.

One very long cooling shower, a blow dry, and a makeup application later, I’m staring at myself in the mirror again – this time with more admiration and slightly less irritation. My mom was right, the black dress looks good. Tight in all the right places, but not too showy, and startling against my blonde hair. I’m bending forward to apply some accompanying red lipstick when my mom taps on the door and comes in.

“Oh, Harper,” she says, “you look stunning. You’re going to knock that pack’s socks right off.”

“It’s not too much?” I ask, wondering if it’s a little too tight and a little too short, wishing I could climb back into those pajamas, back into bed and snuggle under the covers. Yes, that sounds totally ideal.

“No, the dress is perfect and so are you.” She gives me a little squeeze. “We’re off to dinner at the Smyths’ now. I’ll see you when you’re home. Have a wonderful time – let that pack spoil you. You deserve it.”

I wave her off and then glance at my watch. It’s another quarter of an hour until my taxi arrives. I spend the time brushing my hair again, scrubbing off the lipstick, reapplying it and then opting for a lip gloss instead.

I’m still feeling hot – despite relenting and switching on the A/C.

For a micro of a second, I consider … then I dismiss the idea. It’s not due for ages. It’s just freaking hot in this city. And for some unknown reason, especially the day of my date. I raise one arm and sniff, hoping I’m not sweating.

Then with my heels hooked onto my forefinger, I descend the stairs and walk along the hallway. Just as I reach for the front door, it swings open and I walk straight into the path of Owen, Daxton and Wyatt.