Page 65 of In Too Deep

Laughing, I turn around to see him charging through the living room toward me. I have enough time to set down the hot pan before he scoops me up in his arms and swings me around. I can only laugh harder, clinging to his broad shoulders and breathing in his cranberry and spruce scent. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until he returned to my arms, which only makes my heart flip. God, I’m turning into such a softie. But just for my boys.

“Is that chicken and pasta?” Spencer asks from nearby.

Eli sets me back down on my feet, allowing me to turn toward the Cajun-accented voice and smile with a nod. “Prepared exactly as the dietitians have instructed. I’ll measure out the red gravy once I’m able to escape barnacle boy.” When I try to pull away from Eli, it only makes him cling harder.

“That’s Mr. Barnacle Boy to you, madam,” Eli interjects, nipping playfully at my ear before finally letting me go.

I glance back toward the living room and a wide smile splits my face as I realize that Logan is here, too, standing back with Oli with his hands in his pockets. I turn back to the sauce as my face heats, and I feel their attention like touches on my skin, making me break out in goosebumps. I focus more intently on making sure I put the correct amount of sauce on each of the plates, passing them off once I’m sure I’ve done it right.

“Thank you, princess,” Oli says, suddenly right beside me as he leans down to kiss the top of my head.

I must be more distracted than I thought if I couldn’t hear him cross the floor, but it’s hard to push the anxious thoughts from my mind. I’ve got so much going on with this ball, and then all this shit with forming a pack isn’t making me any less worried about the coming weeks. I hear Logan’s steps as he approaches, his hand brushing my lower back as he watches me plate up pasta for the two of us.

“Did you eat your lunch, baby girl? And before you try it, coffee doesn’t count as a meal,” Logan says, cutting off my response before I even have a chance to fully open my mouth.

I blush hotter and deliberately turn away, my silence answer enough. I’ve been in meetings all day, and I haven’t wanted to leave my nest for anything less than a bladder on the verge of exploding. Oli did almost too good of a job making it a peaceful, comforting space for me to be in. Not that I want to change anything to make it less inviting. Maybe I shouldn’t work from my nest in the future.

Logan lifts the plates from my hands, forcing me to turn and face him. Looking up, I frown at the stern set of his eyebrows, feeling guilty and thoroughly scolded without him saying anything.

“Sorry, Daddy. I’ll try harder,” I mutter, tucking my chin to my chest.

Logan sets down the food and pulls me into his arms, letting me snuggle into them. God, my hormones are out of control.

“It’s okay, precious. I’ll make sure to remind you more from now on, how’s that?” he says, his voice taking on a gentle but caring tone.

With a sigh, I nod into his chest. He nuzzles my temple before releasing me, nudging me toward the kitchen table, a clear message to go sit while he takes care of me. I pause, my gut reaction being to not let a man or alpha do something for me if I’m capable of doing it myself. But the omega part of me wins, too stressed to give a shit if someone thinks I’m weak for letting someone I care about handle my care for the moment.

When I plop into the chair between Eli and Spencer, I slump backward, my shoulders sore. Without needing to say a word, Spencer scoots his chair over and drapes his arm across the back of my chair, his hand massaging away some of the tension in my muscles while he eats with the other.

“I’m going to turn into a spoiled brat if y’all keep treating me like this,” I hum, closing my eyes.

“Good.”

I look up as two voices speak in unison, Oli and Logan sharing a fist bump as the latter joins us at the table, placing my food in front of me before sitting in the last vacant seat. I roll my eyes, choosing not to comment on that.

The air is quiet and comfortable as we eat, Eli getting up at one point to fetch a pitcher of water and glasses from the fridge. It’s a simple meal, but there’s something very satisfying to my primal mind about watching my alphas clean their plates of the food I made for them. They spend so much time taking care of me, and being able to return the favor settles a bit of my anxiety.

“Don’t know if they called you, Lo. But there’s a trade offer on the table for me.” Oli breaks the silence.

Everyone freezes, except Logan, who finishes chewing before setting down his fork and wiping away a stray bit of sauce from his cheek. “I heard a rumor, but nothing specific,” he says carefully, looking up at his top line winger with a guarded expression.

“Carolina wants me, I guess. Or George is trying to ship me off for whatever fucking reason,” Oli says.

I suck in a sharp breath. Spencer turns to look at me with a furrowed brow. I set down my own fork, pushing away the half-eaten chicken breast, my stomach knotting and making it impossible to take another bite.

“George isn’t handling trades. The owner, Gideon St. Clair, is,” I say into the tense silence.

All of them turn to look at me with various expressions of confusion and surprise, waiting for me to go on. I explain everything that’s been happening behind the scenes, from the ambush after All-Star Weekend through to the most recent callI received to tell me about the Carolina trade, picking at my cuticles to avoid eye contact.

“I don’t like him,” Logan says when I’ve finished.

“Have you ever met him?” Spencer asks, genuinely curious.

“No, but he’s come on to our girl and is dicking around with our lives like we’re his personal set of action figures. I don’t need to shake the bastard’s hand to know that I don’t like him,” Logan retorts.

Despite the heavy conversation, my chest warms as he claims me astheir girl, and no one makes a move to correct him.

“You’re going to tell them you don’t want to be traded, right?” Eli asks, speaking for the first time in a while.

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