15. Sawyer

15

"Brinlee." I stride toward her, not sure what the hell I'm doing. The McGraw Pack has rattled me, even though they've been nice and polite—so why? I can't even tell you.

But rattled I am, and it occurs to me as I stop in front of her that I had resolved not to push her, not to frighten her into running away, and yet here I am.

On top of that, I'm very aware of the McGraw Pack at my back. They've stalked after me and now they tower behind me like basalt pillars in a temple of Doom.

Okay, I was reading a bad fantasy book until late last night, but can you blame me?

An uncertain smile flits over her face. She looks tired, I think randomly. And too thin. Like she needs to be taken care of.

Like she needs me to take care of her.

And I want to. But when I reach for her hand, she draws back. Her gaze bounces between me and the men behind me.

I glare at them over my shoulder. "Back off. You're scaring her."

"You know us," Archer says, and it takes me a moment to realize he's not talking to me. "Brinlee. We met outside the shelter, remember?"

After a moment, she nods. Wipes her hands on her short denim skirt. She's wearing All-Stars and an oversized shirt, her blond curls framing her cute face, giving her the appearance of a doll.

"Are you an omega?" Kyrian asks, and twisting about, I shush him. He blinks owlishly at me. "What?"

"Can't you go and have your coffee and cake, leave us to talk?"

"What if we want to talk to her, too?" Roman asks.

But I know her. I've observed her over the past months, and predictably, she's already backing away.

"No, Brinlee. Wait." Turning again at the pack, I glare harder. "Go. Shoo."

"Did you just shoo us?" Archer looks amused.

"Yes. Go have your coffee. Fuck off. Go on."

"So damn bossy," Kyrian says, pale brows arching, though he looks strangely pleased about it. "And such a filthy mouth."

I wince, but Archer shrugs, and they all back away toward the bookshelves. Roman winks at us.

Dammit.

"I interrupted something, didn't I?" Brinlee whispers, her cheeks pink. "I didn't mean to… I was passing through the neighborhood and wanted to see if you had any new books… and have a coffee."

"Don't mind them," I tell her. "They were also just passing through."

"But you like them," she says quietly, and I start.

Do I?

Fuck, I do. But right now, the main thing is…

"Can I invite you for a coffee and cake? I saved a book just for you."

"You did?" Her eyes go comically round. "Really?"

"Really. Come on." Yeah, I've found out what makes her tick and I'm taking advantage. Go on and sue me. "You'll love it."

"Are you sure about this?" She keeps glancing in the direction of the pack, who may have obeyed and gone back to their table by the shelves but remain standing, the big oafs, arms folded over their chests, looking at us. Like three harpies waiting to pounce, momentarily turned to stone.

"Yeah, I'm very sure."

I've rarely been so sure about anything in my life, and at the same time, I've never been so torn. She draws me like a bright, burning flame.

And the men standing like statues over there have also put a strange hook in me.

But all this means nothing, should mean nothing. The McGraw Pack said they aren't looking for an omega, despite Roman's "maybe," and as for Brinlee… she's giving me such mixed signals, it's damn confusing.

Meanwhile, tomorrow I'm meeting this other pack, because my parents pulled on the strings controlling me, and fuck, I have no choice.

What if… what if they turn out to be a match? Even a scent-match, like Eric said? I mean, you never know, right? Just because my parents chose this pack that doesn't mean it's terrible.

Not necessarily. Even if my parents only care whether a pack is loaded, nothing else, who knows?

Right now, though, she's here, beside me, and I get a chance to gain her trust, make her like me. It shouldn't matter as much as it does. I'll be fucking crushed if she turns out not to care.

No pressure.

"You don't have to reserve books for me," she's saying now, her voice soft. "I don't even know when and if I can drop by, and besides…"

"Besides, what?"

She seems to be chewing on something. "Nothing. You're so nice, that's all."

"Why does it sound like a bad thing?"

"It's not bad." She laughs. It's not a giggle or snicker, but a light laugh, so light it's almost a cloud. Like the white cloud of your breath when it's cold outside? That's how it feels.

I smile, the lightness slipping into my chest, shoving the stress away. "I hope you'll keep dropping by. I like it. I like having you around."

"You don't know me," she whispers.

"But I'd like to." I take her hand in mine. It's smaller, though not by much, and delicate. "Hi. I'm Sawyer. Nice to meet you."

This time, I fully expect her to giggle, but she only frowns. "Sawyer, I…"

"You must be the famous Brinlee." I clown about, giving a silly bow, hoping to chase that frown away. "Such a pleasure having you here. Drinks and books are on the house, Mademoiselle."

I earn another airy laugh for my troubles, and Jesus, she's so cute. She has tiny teeth and her smile is sweet.

Fuck, I'm crushing so hard on this girl.

"Can I call you Brin?" I ask.

"Only if I can call you Tom. You know. From Tom Sawyer."

"Or Tom Thumb. For short. Or for being short."

"You're not short." Her smile teases me. "You must be, what, five foot four, five foot five?"

"Yeah." I shouldn't feel so pleased she noticed my height, dammit.

"You and me, we drew the short straw. Literally."

I snicker. Fuck, she has my kind of humor. I love it. "This way, Mademoiselle." I give another ridiculous bow and offer her my hand to rest hers on. "Allow me to guide you to your seat."

She plays along, letting me lead her to the bar where I pull a stool for her. She climbs on it gamely, and I stand behind the bar.

Putting distance between us? Between myself and what I feel for her? Probably. It's also habit and being on this side of the counter soothes me.

I gesture behind me. "Coffee? Tea? Cocktail?"

"Just coffee, please. A flat white."

"With lots of sugar, I know. Coming right up. Oh, and the book, before I forget." I crouch down and open the cupboard where I stashed it. Pull it out and place it on the bar with a wink. "With our compliments."

"Aren't you smooth?" She's smiling as she drags the book toward her. "Does this work on girls normally?"

"No idea," I tell her truthfully. "I've never tried it."

I have never been seriously interested in other girls, but she doesn't need to know that. I've bared myself to her enough as it is. Was it a mistake, getting her a book? Moving too fast?

But then she focuses on the book cover and her mouth drops open. "Oh, my God. This is amazing. Wasn't this one of the series you talked about in the book club? The one with the feathered, winged men?"

"Yeah. And it's fantastic. To be honest, I don't recommend the rest of the series, they were kind of a dud. But hey, you may like them, I don't know."

"I'll dive right in. Tonight."

"Awesome," I breathe.

Why does the thought of her in bed with the book I chose for her make me feel so hot and bothered?

"Oh, look, the illustrations are beautiful. Love the chapter pages! I can never leave it lying around at the Alpha Cat, someone will steal it, for sure!"

Damn, she really is after my heart. "Glad you like it," I say, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. "What's the Alpha Cat?"

She glances up, frowning. "What? Oh, nothing. Tell me about the book. Did you get it with the used books for the café?"

"No, I…" Fuck, my neck is heating up. "I got it for you. In case you came by."

"You bought it?" Her eyes darken. I can't read her expression now. "Sawyer. You shouldn't have."

"Oh, I should have. And I did." I turn to the coffee machine, to busy my shaking hands. Dammit, not an anxiety attack, not now. It's just that… man, I like her so damn much.

"This is… so sweet of you." Her voice has gone very quiet.

I let out a breath as I grab a cup and saucer. "You're welcome. I hope you'll enjoy reading it."

"I'm sure I will. I mean, it's everything I love! Fairies and dragons and danger and love."

I'm grinning widely now. "Then you will love it, trust me."

She's silent for a bit, leafing through the book. It gives me time to finish preparing her coffee. I serve it to her on the bar along with a slice of Angelic. Yeah, it's only for friends, but fuck it. Today something told me I should serve this cake to her and to the pack still waiting by the bookshelves.

A sign? A mistake? God only knows.

As if on cue, she asks, "What about the men who were with you?"

"What about them?"

"Am I interrupting something?" she whispers, eyes wide.

"Not at all. You've met them before, then?"

"Yeah, the other day, outside the Omega Sunshine shelter. I was just passing by, and two of them were there. Archer… and Roman?"

"That's right." I glance at them. "Did they annoy you?"

"Oh, no. They were the perfect gentlemen. I just didn't expect you to be friends with them."

"I'm not. Friends, that is. I barely know them."

"They seem nice."

"They are," I have to agree, then I glance at Kyrian. "Mostly."

Her mouth twitches. "I sense a story there."

"Not really. Like I said, I barely know them. What did they tell you?"

She blushes. "Not much. They just… assumed I was an omega. They thought I needed to enter the shelter."

"And are you?" I ask.

"An omega? Oh, no."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She gives a rueful smile. "I know I look like one…"

"My friend Bee was told she was a beta but turned out to be an omega after all."

"Interesting. I'm not… very omega-like. When you get to know me. If that counts for something."

"It does," I say. "After all, how you feel is just as important as… I dunno, having heats or liking sports, I guess."

"And you? Have you had any heats yet?" she asks.

I can feel my face flaming again. "Buy a guy dinner first, won't you?"

Her eyes widen. "Sorry. I didn't realize it was a sensitive topic. Last time you said it's good to talk openly about such things."

"Sure, generally speaking. But asking if I've lost control and had wild monkey sex with any available alpha in the vicinity?"

She frowns. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I don't know what it's socially acceptable to say or ask. I should go."

"Wait…" I get up, shove my hands into my pockets. "Dammit, wait, Brin."

"I made you uncomfortable. Bye, Sawyer." She leaves the book on the bar and starts walking away from me.

"Just wait a sec." I start after her, going around the bar to reach her, cursing myself for my reaction. "Wait, Brin."

"What for?"

"… I haven't."

"I'm sorry?"

"I haven't. Had any. Heats, that is. Yet."

She's staring at me, and the shaking is back in my hands. What is she thinking?

Dammit, I've never talked to anyone about this, not even to Casey or Bee who are omegas like me. I don't even know her that well, so what possessed me to blurt that out? I should have let her go.

I'm not a virgin.

Okay, I totally fucking am.

My parents are the most prudish conservatives that ever lived on the face of the earth, and Eric refuses to talk sex with me because I am, and I quote, "my little innocent brother." So damn frustrating. The internet has taught me all I know. I've bought dildos to experiment with but… I admit I haven't gotten far with them.

She still isn't saying anything, and fuck, I hope the McGraw Pack aren't eavesdropping on this conversation.

"You know what?" I mutter. "Never mind." There's only so much you can do to show someone you like them. After that, it's pitiful, and I have a shred of pride left. I make myself turn around, though it hurts, and head back to the bar. "Have a nice day."

She doesn't follow, and my heart sinks further, dipping to my toes. Why the hell did I think this girl liked me? I've been so gung-ho about courting her that I may have become blinded to her lack of reaction. She keeps walking away.

That should be my first clue. And all this extra stress is getting to me. I should?—

"Sawyer," she says, and that's when I realize she has actually followed me back to the bar, her sneakers light and quiet on the floor. "Wait."

My breathing is harsh as I turn back around to face her. "You forgot your book."

"I forgot many things," she says, no idea what she means, but as she steps closer to me, I lose every single thread of thought I've ever held inside my mind. It's all unraveling, unwinding. All there is to think about is sparkling eyes and soft lips, the tiny freckles on her nose and that cloud of blond hair, that scent of sweet strawberries and cherries with a dash of vanilla cream and warm cinnamon.

Fuck, I want to lick her all over. I want to bite her. I want to kiss her.

Time slows down as I lift a hand to her face. Her skin is softer than satin, and so warm. The pull she has on me is unreal. It's as if I have no choice but to move toward her, closer, ever closer until our bodies almost touch. The world fades, the sounds stop, everything but her ceases to exist.

Her mouth is like a perfect rose, small but lush. From up close, her eyes are flecked with gold and green, her lashes curved and dark. Mascara, I think and I think it fondly. She's wearing pink lip-gloss and mascara and there's some kind of goop in her hair, or is it hairspray? A slight whiff of chemicals trying to overpower the sweetness of her natural scent, and failing.

She's beautiful.

She's perfect.

She tilts her head back and I bow mine, our mouths an inch apart. I'm going to kiss her, seal this proof of her liking me, wanting me. Her eyes half-close, her lips part, her scent rises to possess my senses, and I inhale, drawing it deeper. I'm getting hard, and my heart is banging wildly in my chest. It's all coming together.

Then someone wolf-whistles.

She jolts back.

The sound penetrates the fog in my brain, and I blink. "What the fuck?"

I turn and see Roman grinning at us.

Damn them!

"Brin," I start. I have to do some damage control, stat, see if I can save the moment.

But it's too late. "Sorry," she whispers, "sorry!"

And this time she runs out for good.