Page 48 of Pack Plus Three

At one point, I wasted an entire hour trying to fix the photocopier that an intern had somehow managed to kill. While copier fixing was a little below my pay grade, it felt good to do something with my hands that actually had an achievable outcome for the day.

Sometimes I envied Jeremy and Devon. While construction wasn't for me, I could certainly see the appeal of building something with your hands and seeing real, tangible evidence of what you've created.

I, on the other hand, could spend three weeks crafting a single legal document, and it meant nothing. Their working hours were also a lot more sociable. I was driving home at two in the afternoon because I had spent the entire night at the office. All-nighters weren't uncommon in my field, and despite my hatred of them, I had to accept them as a necessary evil.

Being a lawyer was not for the faint of heart...or those easily bored.

The phone buzzed again from the back seat, and I considered pulling over and throwing the damn thing into the river. That felt like a bit too much effort, though, so instead, I cranked up the speakers to blare some rock music I had listened to in college.

As my hand reached for the dial, I could see it visibly shaking. Cursing to myself as I turned the music up, I tried not to dwell on it as I quickly focused on the road again.

Sooner or later, I would have to go back to the doctor for another infusion. I felt like most of my spare time was spent at the doctor's office.

I was sick of being sick.

My packmates were nothing but supportive, but I still despised being a burden. When Jeremy had signed his contract with the Chargers, we had gotten incredibly lucky. The insurance the NHL provided was extensive, and ever since then, I had been getting my infusions at least twice a month, instead of the one a month I had been getting prior.

Despite the early afternoon hour, I was ready to pass out in bed. Pulling into the driveway, I smiled when I saw both Jeremy’s and Devon’s cars in the driveway. Even in my exhausted state, I could appreciate that my packmates were home. Jeremy had been so busy with practice and the project apartment that I hardly saw him anymore.

They were probably working, so I didn't go looking for them as I opened the front door and made my way toward the kitchen in the back of the house. Snack, then sleep. Only then could I pretend to be an actual human being for a few hours.

The closer I got to the kitchen, the louder my stomach growled. Something smelled amazing. Actually, the whole house smelled amazing. Like brown sugar and candied apples. Had Jeremy brought more cookies home with him? He'd become something of a Cookie Monster of late. I wasn't immune to the cookies, either. I'd swiped one when he wasn't looking, and I’d had to grudgingly admit it was possibly the best cookie I'd ever eaten.

When I walked through the doorway to the kitchen, intending to make a beeline to the fridge, I stopped in my tracks.

Someone was in my kitchen.

Someone who wasn't one of my packmates.

Her back was to me, and all I could see was a large, oversized T-shirt and shorts and piles of curly red hair spilling out of the claw clip at the back of her head. Her exposed legs were beautifully shaped, and I immediately thought of them wrapped around my waist.

And then, a second later, I felt disgusted with myself. I couldn't let myself think of anyone else in that way. Not after Jilly.

After the disgust came anger. Who was this person in my kitchen, and why was she fucking with my mind?

The woman clearly hadn't heard my arrival, thanks to the pop music she had blaring out of the speaker on the counter.

“Who the hell are you?” I snapped, probably a little angrier than I should have.

She jumped, dropping whatever she was holding onto the counter and whirling around to look at me.

Fuck me.

She was beautiful.

Masses of dark red hair, perfectly offset by emerald-green eyes. Her cheeks were slightly chubby in the most adorable way. And they were covered in a smattering of freckles.

Freckles.

It was like my fucking wet dream had walked into my kitchen.

And I hated that.

Huh. Her stomach was rounded. She was clearly in the later stages of pregnancy. I felt bad for startling her. I was an asshole, but I wasn't so much of an asshole that I would willingly startle a pregnant woman.

A pregnant omega, judging by her scent.

She was the source of that candy apple scent I had followed to the kitchen.

---