Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

D axton

The problem with being a doctor is that at social gatherings like these, the old people seek you out, and once they have you cornered, they bombard you with questions about their various ailments, sincerely expecting you to heal them on the spot. In fact, they won’t let you go until they receive some sort of answer. Often, I don’t really mind, reminding elderly people that eating healthily and getting out to exercise will cure 90% of their complaints is part and parcel. Today, however, being trapped in the corner by my step-mom’s sister and brother-in-law is especially irritating, because today Harper is here.

Harper Hall.

It’s been ten years since I last laid eyes on her. First, she went off to college, and we did our best to avoid each other. I rarely came home and when I did, I made sure she wasn’t there. And then she up and left for Paris.

It’s been almost a lifetime since I saw her last. We were just kids back then. Without a fucking care in the world. Without an understanding of the consequences of all the fucked up stuff we were doing.

Fucked up stuff I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since.

And now she’s back, looking even better than she did ten years ago.

I nod along to my step-uncle’s description of the rash on his ass cheek, keeping my concerned doctor face in place, when really all my attention is focused across the room on Harper and my packmates.

I was apprehensive about her return. Would she slap me around the face? Would she consider what we did shameful? Would she hold me responsible? Would it undo all the work I’ve done to repair my relationship with my dad and build one with my step-mom?

However, now she’s here, I think things will be okay.

We’ve all moved on. It was a long, long time ago.

“I’m afraid I’m no dermatologist,” I tell Uncle Tim. “I think you should have an expert take a look.”

“Maybe if you could take a look,” he says. I try really hard not to cringe. Tim’s ass is not something I want to see.

“Not today,” I tell him, finally squeezing through the two of them and breaking free.

I pick up a much-needed beer from the table and stroll towards my pack.

“So you found her then?” I say, joining them. Although, how could they not? I’d forgotten just how vivid and vibrant Harper smells. I think I could find her in a stadium full of people simply by following her peachy scent.

“We did,” Owen says, eyes twinkling. I’ve known my packmate for thirteen years. I know that look. Maybe some of us haven’t moved on after all. “I’ve been trying to needle out of her the details of what went down in Paris.”

“Something went down?” I ask, frowning.

“Nothing went down,” Harper says, shuffling on her feet. She was always a hopeless liar.

“Apparently something did and apparently it was ‘complicated’.”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Harper murmurs, gulping her drink. “Just know, I now hate all men.”

I can’t help frowning even harder. What the hell happened in Paris to make her hate all men?

Wyatt glances at his wristwatch. “We have to leave in ten minutes.”

“To surf?” Harper asks with a smile.

“For a date,” Wyatt says.

Harper’s smile fades.

“Sorry, Harp,” Owen says. “It’s been in the diary a while. We tried to move it.”

“Oh,” Harper says, waving her hand through the air, “you don’t need to … I mean, you can …” She gestures off into the distance. “I think my mom’s calling me over.”

I watch as Harper slides between a group of people and disappears from sight.

She hasn’t changed. She’s still the delicious little omega she always was. Perfect shape. All soft curves.

I want one of those. I want one of those badly. I want one for my pack.

Sometimes it feels crazy just how badly I do want one.

It’s not something that hit me around the head one morning. It’s something that’s come on gradually the older we’ve got.

When we were younger, it was all about the sex, but over the years I’ve developed this desire to find an omega and care for her, to build her a nest and make her happy, to start a family of our own. And, fuck, sometimes those desires are even stronger than the desire to rut, fuck and knot.

“You know,” Owen says, handing me back my beer, “I always thought Harper–”

“Harper is my step-sister,” I hiss under my breath at him.

He lifts his eyebrows. We’ve had this conversation more than once over the years. Owen was always crazy about Harper and he never really got over her.

Actually, that’s a lie. We may have moved on, but none of us got over that girl. Owen’s just the only one who ever vocalizes it.

But Harper isn’t an option. He knows that. We’ve discussed it enough times. Discussed it to death because it’s hard to forget a girl when the sex was so electric, so fucking amazing. Nothing has compared to it since.

But sex isn’t everything. And, anyway, maybe when we find the omega meant for us, the sex will be just as good. Hell, maybe it will be better.

“Come on,” I tell the other two. “Let’s go on this date.”

Maybe today is the day we finally find our omega.

We don’t.

The date is with Eden, the sister of a nurse who works on the children’s ward with Owen. Owen’s colleague has been trying to set us up with her omega sister for months.

However, from the moment I spot Eden walking towards the coffee shop where the three of us are waiting, I know this isn’t going to work.

For starters, her scent, wafting our way on the breeze, is all wrong. Way too sweet for my tastes. She smells like she’d rot your teeth.

For several seconds, she poses outside the coffee shop snapping selfies and posting them to her Instagram for ten long minutes, before coming inside and meeting us.

And for thirds, she sweeps her gaze over us and groans as she slumps into the seat opposite us, making it clear she doesn’t love what she sees.

“I already told my sister,” she says, “I’m not dating packs who are worth less than $100 million.”

She folds her arms over her chest and glances around the coffee shop, lip curling as if she’s landed herself in a rat-filled slum.

Owen thought this place would be cute. It’s an independent shop with coffees from around the world, home-baked cakes and comfy decor.

Obviously, it does not impress Eden.

“How do you know we aren’t?” Wyatt asks seriously. “Worth that much?”

She points to Owen’s watch, my shoes and Wyatt’s jeans. “I can tell. So unless you’re going to try and convince me you dress like this to throw gold-diggers off the scent, I’d suggest we cut this date short. You’re wasting my time.”

“Sounds like you’re the gold digger,” I growl.

“I know what I’m worth,” she says, with a shrug.

“You’re not interested in finding a real connection?” Wyatt says, genuinely surprised.

“I am, but I’d rather that was with a pack that can take care of me.”

I glare at Owen and he scrubs his hand down his face. Eden isn’t wrong. This was a waste of all our time.

“Can we at least buy you a coffee?” Owen says.

She grimaces. “I don’t drink coffee. It’s bad for my complexion.” She pats at her cheek as if it’s made from porcelain, then stands up. “I’m sorry my sister messed up. I should have quizzed her more.” She pushes her chair under the table, and pauses, tilting her head to one side. “You are kinda cute, though. Call me if you make any money.”

“Yeah, we’ll be sure to do that,” I say flatly.

“Sorry,” she says, with an exaggerated look of sympathy as if she may actually have broken our hearts, “you can follow me on Insta if you like.”

Owen nods his head with very little enthusiasm.

Then she’s hurrying out, posing in front of the shop to take more photos.

“That went well,” Owen says, picking up his coffee cup and staring into its empty depths.

“Yeah, really well,” I say sarcastically.

“I thought it was a disaster,” Wyatt says.

“It was.” I shake my head and blow out my cheeks. “I didn’t like her scent anyway. Too sweet.”

“Yeah,” Owen says, returning his cup to its saucer and looking me right in the eye. “You’ve always preferred something a little more fruity.”