Page 96 of Lilacs and Leather

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Page 96 of Lilacs and Leather

Gabby laughs brightly. “You have more love inside of you than you know what to do with, babe. I’ve always considered myself one of the luckiest people ever because of how much you care for me. And those boys should thank their lucky stars to have someone like you in their lives.”

I feel my blush deepen, and I smile as I look down. I realize that I’ve been drawing little hearts and swirls, like the lovesick idiot that I am. I tear the page and toss it away.

“How are you going to tell them?” Gabby asks excitedly.

I shrug with one shoulder. “I could just, like, use my words and just put it out there,” I say, only half joking.

Gabby lets out a Sigh of the Long Suffering, putting a hand to her forehead dramatically. “This is the perfect opportunity for a grand gesture, and you’re just going to pass that up?”

I look at her skeptically. “I don’t even celebrate my birthday, and you want me to do something ridiculous just to tell the guys I love them?”

Saying the words out loud feels much different from thinking them. But I don’t hate how they sound. I’ll even admit to butterflies, huge, eagle sized butterflies.

Gabby looks at me, aghast. I settle in as she goes on a rant about how I should seize every moment because I don’t know if they’ll be my last, and I lose track of her speech, drifting off in my head.

I love them. I love Rhett Cooper, and I love Mateo Hutchenson. I try to pinpoint when it happened, but no singular lightbulb moment comes to mind. I fell a little every time Rhett looked me in the face and gave me his whole attention whenever I spoke. A little more when Mateo lets me into the private network of secrets and treasures he’s built. When Rhett calls me his good girl. When Mateo calls me beautiful and means it. The miracle isn’t that I fell for two men, two alphas. It’s that it took me this long to realize it.

Gabby picks up a good head of steam and starts suggesting ways I can tell them how I feel. Ideas range from hand delivering meaningful flowers with a card that says the words, to getting a cookie cake with my declaration spelled out in chocolate chips. I play along, each idea getting more insane as closing time approaches.

I leave Gabby on the search for a skywriting plane at 5:30, going outside to start bringing in the sidewalk displays. I’m smiling to myself, shaking my head a little over how silly Gabby can be as I start to collect the baskets and place them on the central cart.

“Lydia Anderson, right?”

I straighten at the sound of the male voice, a deep gravelly smoker’s rasp. I turn toward the speaker, finding a man sitting at one of the wrought iron tables outside Carlos’s Cafe. The man is built like a brick shit house, with a neck that’s the same thickness as my bicep, and biceps the size of my thighs. His tanned skin stands out harshly against the bright blue sleeveless muscle shirt, his dark hair cropped close and held in place with a ton of product. Most of his face is hidden by aviator sunglasses, but the twist of his overly plump mouth sets my teeth on edge.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light even as dread settles in my chest.

The man removes his sunglasses, revealing eyes so dark that it’s almost impossible to distinguish pupil from iris. He brazenly drags his eyes up and down my body, and his upper lip twitches into a sneer for a moment.

“I’m Seth. Seth Douglas. We need to talk.”

Thirty-Seven

Lydia

I stare at Seth for a long moment.I’d never caved and looked him up, but it shouldn’t surprise me how absolutely stacked he is. Everything else was nothing like I’d imagined. I try to picture him with Mateo or Alexandra, and my mind can’t do it. The image of this omega, with a body better suited for lifting weights than cuddling, even holding hands with a woman as elegant and refined as Alexandra is beyond my ability to conjure. He’s still looking at me, waiting for a reaction. I have to take a slow breath, trying not to show how rattled I am. I need to keep control, as much as I can. He’s done this to get a rise out of me, and I can’t let him get what he wants.

“I expected you to be taller. You weren’t wearing heels in your photo,” Seth goes on, smirking to himself.

I hum a noncommittal noise, hand going to my pocket. I feel my phone against my leg and relax. I thought I might have left it on the counter, but having it on my person sends a wave of relief through my body that almost takes the strength out of my legs. I keep my face blank as a plan starts to form.

“So, little omega, you’ve been busy, haven’t you?” Seth starts, settling back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other.

I shrug, turning back to my task. My hands are steady, thank God, and I take the moment when I’m not facing him to pull my phone out and put it on the cart. I lean against it casually, trying not to draw attention to my actions as I open my messaging app, not looking as I open the first thread.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” he demands.

I look back to his face, finding a little satisfaction that my gray rock strategy is working, even if it’s taking every ounce of my concentration to keep my composure. I swipe my fingers across the keys without looking, typing a message and hitting send.

Me: SOS. Seth at Wila’s.

“I’m not sure what you want, so what’s there to say?” I return, trying my best to sound bored and not terrified.

Rhett is muscular, and Mateo has a deceptive amount of strength. But Seth’s frame is too bulky, too alpha-like for my mind to settle. Even though I know he’s an omega, and shouldn’t be a threat, all of the pack’s warnings rattle around my head like bouncy balls in an earthquake.

“I mean, how about you start by telling me what the fuck you’re doing with my alpha when you’ve got a bond mate,” Seth demands, leaning forward.

I roll my eyes, mostly because I’m fairly certain it’ll annoy him. I’m rewarded with a tiny, pathetic attempt at an alpha growl. His game is revealing itself to me with each moment. I glance down at my phone and breathe out slowly as I see the reply that’s come through to my distress call.




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