Page 96 of The Heat of Us

“So…you only realised you were an alpha recently?”

We were both holding plastic wrapped pillows, the crinkling sound distracting as we squashed them in our arms.

“Mmhm,” I replied. Remy was testing me again. Little strikes against my armour.

Remy discarded a back sleeper pillow and picked up a high profile one. “Come on, seriously?”

“Why would I lie?” I held up my own pillow, also high profile. “This one,” I shot back. “It’s the fluffiest.”

“Yeah,” Remy agreed grudgingly. “Eight?”

“At least.”

The wall of quilts and duvets stretched the entire length of the back of the store. Remy and I stood in front of it, staring at all the testers and accompanying charts explaining down to feather ratio and pros and cons of cotton, wool and polyester.

“Fuck,” Remy swore under his breath.

I pointed at the far end. “Start there. I’ll go from the other end and meet you in the middle. Pick which one you think is best from your half and we’ll decide between our two.”

It felt like a pistol duel. At dawn. With our imaginary seconds watching on as we strode our 10 yards.

Except we were going to compare duvets instead of shooting each other.

We met in the middle with very similar options.

“Did you just pick the most expensive one?” I asked him suspiciously.

“Yup. You?”

I couldn’t lie. “Yeah.”

“Great, we’ll get both then.”

The lighting section was blinding, with all the display lights switched on for demonstration purposes. We silently vetoed anything except the extravagant built in canopy options.

“So you’ve known about me for a while, I guess,” Remy said, inspecting a dimmer switch.

“Yes. Since after Hazel’s heat,” I replied without looking at him. I tugged robotically on two different ropes, watching how each canopy bloomed outward. “You were too rough with her, by the way.”

Remy’s hackles rose. “Heat services pulled me up on that. I don’t need you to tell me as well.”

“I can tell you you were too rough with my omega any day of the fucking week, Remy,” I retorted tersely.

He refused to stand down. “I’d like to see you tend to her heat and try not to bond her.”

I glanced at the rope in my hand, wondering if Hazel would mind if I strangled him a tiny bit with it. Instead, I yanked hard on it and the sheer canopy above me opened like a spring flower, oblivious to our sparring. “This one.”

“We can’t get it installed today.”

“Obviously. But we’re not sleeping in it so we can wait for it to be delivered. Or do you want to go back to floor lamps?”

“Yeah, no.”

That’s what I fucking thought.

We made it to the section we were dreading — the quilt cover sets. Matching throws and accessories. Thousands of colours, patterns and textures. It would require a lot of thought about things we knew nothing about. And hell to pay if we got it wrong.

I picked up a gingham printed set and immediately set it back down. Hazel’s teasing voice rang in my head. Ben, you brought me a picnic rug instead of nesting materials.

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