Page 18 of Lilacs and Leather
“Earth to Lydia, are you picking up what I’m putting down?” Gabby asks, snapping her fingers before my eyes.
I jump and pull back from the sudden closeness. “Not really,” I sigh, exasperated.
“You said it yourself, and it’s been a rumor forever. Pack St. Clair’s lack of monogamy or traditional relationship dynamics is practically an open secret. They haven’t come out publicly, but they don’t correct the media when reports come out about them being caughtin flagrante delictowith someone outside the pack,” Gabby pushes.
“I don’t get what that has to do with me,” I moan, starting to get annoyed.
“Lydia, babe, darling, Rhett Cooper wants to court you. I know you don’t know much about courting rituals, but this is textbook acclimatizing. He’s bringing your scent back to his pack, to the other alphas, so they don’t flip shit when an omega enters the space for the first time,” Gabby explains.
I open my mouth to retort but stop short as my brain comprehends the information. Rhett Cooper is an alpha, in a pack with two other alphas, and he’s bringing my scent back to them. I want my first instinct to be fear, because having one alpha catch my scent is bad enough without bringing two more into the absolute train wreck that is my personal life. But the primal part of my brain only purrs with delight at how sweet and considerate that sort of gesture is. I shake my head in disbelief, pushing those delusional feelings deep down and out of sight.
“He doesn’t even know me. He certainly doesn’t want to court me. And, besides, I’ve never heard of acclimatizing before,” I protest, rubbing at the phantom ache in my left shoulder slightly.
“That’s because it’s an old-fashioned tradition that kids these days don’t appreciate and make fun of alphas for doing,” Wila snaps as she brings a casserole dish from the kitchen.
My mouth waters at the smell of her cooking. Baked mac and cheese from scratch. Savory carbs are perfect for my mood right now. I pile a huge helping onto my plate as soon as Wila sets down the dish.
“Today’s alphas don’t respect other alphas like they used to. They’ll bring whoever they want into a pack space without warning and damn the consequences for their partner and pack dynamics. Who cares if they bring their omega into a room full of alphas, and one of them gets thrown into a rut and the omega gets hurt? No fucking respect,” Wila snipes, scooping her own portion onto her plate with a little more force than necessary.
“There aren’t packs full of alphas like that anymore, Gran. Most packs are almost all betas, and may have one or two alphas, if that. Most omegas use services to safely meet packs. No offense,” Gabby says, throwing the last part at me.
I shrug. Growing up in a small town, I didn’t know omega pairing services even existed. Connections were made by family, friends, and friends of friends. By the time I moved to Everton and I was free to try them, I found they were well out of my price range. There were money-back guarantees if the matches failed, but it was still too risky. I didn’t need a pack, and I’d had enough of courting to last me a lifetime.
“Even still. Your grandfather brought buckets of dirt and lemons into his packhouse for three months before I ever set foot inside. And that’s with me only being a beta,” Gran scoffs between bites.
“You don’t smell like lemons to me,” I comment, trying to change the subject.
“That went away when I hit menopause. But before that, Ernie used to say I tasted like—”
“No no no no,” Gabby shouts, clamping her hands over her ears.
It’s my turn to cackle, and Wila joins me. I catch her fond smile and blush a little, looking away.
“He might be trying to acclimate his pack, but that boy skipped the first step if he’s trying to court you,” she says, a sly smirk pulling at her lips.
I furrow my brow and cock my head to the side.
“He has to get through me,” she growls.
My stomach flips, and I smile. The dragon at the gates, protecting the princess from harm.
Eight
Lydia
Me: Hello, Mr. Cooper.This is Lydia Anderson from Grandmother Wila’s Flower Shoppe. Your arrangement will be ready for pickup tomorrow. You can come in anytime between 9:00AM and 5:30PM to collect it.
Istare at the message for a long moment before hitting send.
Professional. Polite. But not too lengthy.
I had spent the last twenty minutes typing out several versions of the same information. We usually call customers to let them know their order is ready, but he specifically asked for a text. I stare nervously at the screen for a long moment before shaking my head. Why am I waiting for a reply from a customer? I shove the phone back into my pocket and set about watering the plants in the small greenhouse on the roof of the shop.
A moment later, I feel the vibration of his reply.
Rhett Cooper: Beautiful. I’ll be in first thing. How do you take your coffee, love?
I stare at the message, blinking rapidly. My eyes are reading the words, but my brain is stubbornly refusing to comprehend them.