Page 90 of Lilacs and Leather
“About fucking time,” Mateo mutters as he reads the new message on his phone.
Lucas and I both look at him expectantly, waiting for more information. Fear for whatever comes next feels like a fourth companion at our end of the bar, sitting too close for comfort. Mateo had been silent for most of the last hour, lost inside his head. He had constantly kept contact with my skin, from holding my hand to playing with my hair, to finally looping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his chest. I let him, not pushing for answers even when I was dying to ask. His scent remained bright with citrus, with only a hint of baking grass.
“Rhett says you need to clock out. They’re calling a pack meeting,” Mateo explains at last.
My shoulders slump a little before I can stop them, disappointment filling my gut. I’m sure that someone will tell me what happened, but the instinct to be near my alphas, to comfort them and try to soothe their distress, is riding me hard. After accessing my omega purr and seeing how relaxed and happy it made Mateo, I want to be close, to keep comforting him when he’s clearly upset. But I’m not pack, and they’re business is their own until they decide to tell me otherwise.
“I have to call in coverage. Lacey can’t handle the rest of the dinner rush by herself,” Lucas says with a sharp sigh.
“No excuses, Luc. Rhett is pulling rank,” Mateo replies seriously.
Lucas swears and shakes his head. “That’s not fucking fair, I can’t just—”
“No, Lucas. Pack comes first. Tell Mackenzie to figure it out. You weren’t even supposed to work today anyway,” Mateo growls, voice dangerously close to a bark.
Lucas sighs again, but I can tell he’s defeated. After a moment, he nods and turns on his heel, walking away. I look up at Mateo, bracing myself.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say with a disappointed exhale.
Mateo looks down sharply, confusion clouding his already troubled eyes. “Why?”
I blink at him for a moment. “You said—”
“You’re coming too,” Mateo says like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I feel a blush spreading rapidly across my face, and I look away. Mateo’s hold on my waist tightens, and he nuzzles into my neck, nosing aside my hair until his lips can brush the skin of my throat. The featherlight kiss makes me shiver, but a small smile still tugs at my lips.
“You drove here?” he whispers in my ear.
I nod, biting the inside of my lower lip as I try to think. But Mateo’s hands and scent make that very difficult.
“I’ll let security know on our way out. Just want to make sure Luc follows instructions,” Mateo says with a small laugh.
I nod again, relaxing back into his hold. Mateo loops his other arm around me, and I close my eyes, enjoying his warmth. After a moment, Lucas comes back from wherever he went, a bag and helmet in his hand. My eyebrows lift a little, but I let the question slide to the back of my mind for the moment. Mateo takes my hand, leading me through the restaurant and through the lobby. After a brief stop at the front desk, we’re out in the parking lot. Lucas peels off into another section of the lot, but I climb into the passenger seat of Mateo’s SUV.
Lucas catches up to us shortly after we leave The Valencia, his sporty and sleek green and black motorcycle keeping pace with us easily. The drive is short, maybe ten minutes from the parking lot to the elaborate wrought-iron gate of the private community of Bristol Point. Mateo scans a badge, nodding to the booth attendant as we pass through the fence and onto the beautifully manicured streets. I watch the houses go by as we drive, each large and tastefully structured. These aren’t the McMansions that new money builds, but elegant homes that only those with a specific level of class and affluence inhabit.
It’s not that I grew up poor, but my family and the pack had little issue with showing off. My childhood home had more bathrooms than members, but it always felt empty. My father was pretty frugal, but my mother spent money like it was on fire. With Pack St. Clair, it’s so easy to forget that they are one of the wealthiest packs in the country. Mateo is just as likely to take me to a strip mall or a bodega for a date as he is to get us a table at a five-star restaurant. Rhett is generous with his time and treats me to well thought out and considered gifts, but he respects my wishes to not get me lavish presents. They drive nice cars, but they don’t have staff to handle their personal affairs. It’s never been more clear that having money doesn’t make you wealthy, or give you taste and class.
After several minutes, we pull into the driveway of a stunning two-story house. It appears at first as if the house and garage are separate buildings, but as Mateo drives up to the garage door, I can see that a covered porch connects them. Lucas maneuvers his bike down a branch of the driveway that curves around the garage, down a hill, and out of sight. Lights shine through the windows on the first floor, but don’t get the chance to really study more of the exterior as Mateo pulls into the garage.
I slide out of the SUV within moments of Mateo killing the engine, and I recognize Rhett’s car parked on one side, and a silver sedan that must belong to Alexandra on the other. Mateo takes my hand again, and I let him lead me through the garage. I can hear Lucas’s bike below us, but the engine shuts off just as Mateo and I exit through the side door onto the covered porch connecting the two buildings. I glimpse the backyard in the dusk light as we cross, and the lower level of the house emerges from the hillside. Mateo leads me to the door on the side of the house rather than the elaborate front door. We step inside a mudroom, and I follow Mateo’s lead as he toes off his shoes and pushes them next to a pile of others. I follow him through an open doorway, past a beautiful bay window complete with window seat, and through another arch into the kitchen.
The space takes my breath away as I openly gawk, mouth hanging open. The kitchen is open to an informal dining area and a living room beyond that, all three rooms flowing together seamlessly. The floors are warm hardwood, the kitchen cabinets white with marble counters. There is an industrial-looking stove along one wall, with a convection cooktop built into the island opposite a row of stools, and a reclaimed wood dining table, with eight cushioned chairs surrounding it, set in front of a picture window. A massive U-shaped sectional dominates the living room, centered in front of a cobblestone fireplace and TV above the mantle. There are two open doorways leading to rooms beyond, but my attention is dragged from admiring the interior design work by a voice.
“Mateo? Luc?” I hear Alexandra call.
“Here, and I’ve got Lydia,” Mateo returns.
I follow the sound of Alexandra’s voice, turning to see her coming through the arch that separates the foyer from the living room. She’s changed out of her dress into a baggy sweatshirt and leggings, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders. Her face is bare of makeup, but she’s still beautiful enough to take my breath away. She gives me a tense little smile, and I return it with a shy one of my own. Her scent follows her as she crosses to the kitchen, and I shiver as the mulled wine and bitter orange cloud coats my tongue and makes my stomach swoop.
“Lydia.”
Rhett’s voice hits me a moment before his scent, strong with leather and ink. I stand a little straighter and whip around to face him as he closes the distance between us in three long, powerful strides. Rhett’s hands immediately slide along the curve of my jaw and into my hair as he pulls me up onto the tips of my toes to claim my lips with his. I release my hold of Mateo’s hand and seize the front of his shirt with my fists. The kiss is brief but leaves me breathless all the same. When he pulls away, I keep my eyes closed for a moment, just enjoying the lingering feeling of his kiss.
“I’m sorry,” Rhett breathes, pressing his forehead to mine.
I pull back a little, looking up at him with a confused frown. “For canceling our dinner plans? Rhett, it’s not that big—”