Page 7 of The Alpha Under My Bed

Her gaze flicked over me, her brow furrowing. “You okay?”

I hesitated. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep great.”

She hummed, tilting her head slightly, like she didn’t quite believe me.

I turned toward the counter, busying myself with the stack of order receipts. I didn’t want to talk about it.

And I definitely didn’t want to talk about the way Mal’s words still lingered at the edge of my thoughts.

You already have me.

Claudia gave me one last look before stepping into the back office, leaving me alone with the soft hum of the shop’s morning routine.

The day passed in a steady rhythm. Customers came and went, filling the space with fleeting scents—powdery florals, crisp citrus, rich musks. I measured out delicate vials, mixed base notes, and adjusted ratios by instinct. Creating. Matching. Perfecting.

Hours slipped away the way they always did.

By the time the sun dipped low behind the city skyline, the last customer had long since left, and the familiar hush of the shop had settled in.

I rolled my shoulders, stretching out the tension from standing too long. Another long day. Another evening closing up alone.

The lingering scents of sandalwood and vanilla clung to the air, mixing with the faint hint of wax as I blew out the last of the display candles. The cash register was balanced, the shelves straightened, the floors swept. Everything was just as it should be—neat, orderly, predictable.

It was the kind of simple, steady routine I liked.

I shrugged on my coat, looped my scarf around my neck, and flicked off the front light before stepping outside. The night air was crisp, cool against my cheeks as I turned the key in the lock, double-checking the door before tucking my hands into my pockets.

I had barely slipped my keys into my bag before my phone vibrated.

I already knew who it was before I looked.

Mal: Where are you?

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I swiped to reply.

Me: Just leaving work.

The dots popped up immediately.

Mal: Come by the shop.

I hesitated, tightening my fingers around my bag strap.

I could just go home. Curl up in my nest, bury myself under soft blankets and pillows that smelled like me, shut my brain off, and try to forget about another failed match.

The thought made my chest ache.

A nest wasn’t supposed to feel empty.

I bit my lip, my fingers hovering over my phone screen before I typed out a different reply.

Me: What if we did takeout and horror movies instead? My place?

A beat of silence.

Mal: What are we ordering?

A rush of warmth curled low in my stomach.

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