Page 49 of Wild Card

I’d just really fucking like to be invited into the pack bedroom.

The only thing countering the burn of not being included is knowing that Thorne isn’t either. Once we got here, I helped him get settled in one of the guest rooms before hanging out in the living room for a while to see if Lennox and Bear would make an appearance.

I should have figured the chances would be slim, considering it was already late when they got in.

Lennox has a heat coming up, meaning she should be nesting, eating extra calories, and sleeping enough to stockpile energy for when it does hit.

Jesus Christ.

I’ve never been lonely in my own house before.

Knowing she’s here and just out of reach has my impulses on edge. Bear could have invited me to watch. It’s not like I would have shoved my way in.

I sigh and climb off the couch.

I’m clearly not getting an invitation tonight, but I can do a few things to make tomorrow run more smoothly.

If I’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that alcohol and gift wrapping don’t mix. The table is covered in wrapping paper and quite terribly wrapped courting and Christmas gifts. There are a few more to do before I’m done, but not one looks pretty.

I tried.

Bear better be thankful.

Someone has to think with their head instead of their cock, and for once, I’m being the responsible one.

I even hauled the Christmas decorations down from the attic while searching for the wrapping paper. There’s no guarantee Lennox will be coherent enough to celebrate, but I thought it might be a fun activity if she does feel up for it.

The scent of burning fills the air, and I shove myself out of my chair, tripping over my own feet in an attempt to get to the stove before the hot cocoa concoction boils over.

Dammit.

I probably should have known better than to try to multitask, but the milk was taking forever to heat up. Somehow, I forgot that milk boils super fucking fast.

“Fuck,” I hiss, tugging the pot off the burner and moving it to a cool one. Burning milk has already spilled all over the top of the stove as I click off the burner.

Well, this trial run was a disaster.

I frown, snatching up the handwritten recipe card and making sure it didn’t suffer from any of the spillage. This came directly out of the recipe box my mom left for us.

It was spared any scorched milk overflow, so I toss it aside and grab a dishrag.

“Damn,” I grumble under my breath. “This was a fail.”

Shera raises her head from her spot lying in front of the refrigerator, but I barely spare her a second glance as I search for a dish towel, since the rag is soaked.

I snag one out of the drawer and turn back to finish cleaning up, only my entire body jolts.

Lennox stands a few feet away. She’s clothed in one of Bear’s giant T-shirts, and she rocks on her toes when she spots me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” I lie, stepping back to the stove. It’s still too hot for me to be doing this without a pot holder, but I’m committed.

Also, no one wants to clean up sour milk the next day.

“Can I help?”

“I’ve got it.” I move to grab another rag and wet it before heading back to the stove for one final cleanup. “Did you need something, sweetheart?”

“I fell asleep just fine, but I couldn’t stay that way. I’m not sure if it’s a side effect of my heat coming or what.” Her shoulders bounce, and the bottom of Bear’s shirt raises up her thighs.

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