Page 17 of Building My Pack

I snort softly as I think about whether or not I want to open up and tell this stranger my life's scariest skeleton in the closet. Then the wind blows his scent my way and words start flowing out of my mouth. "I got fired today and I wish I could say it was for stealing or corporate sabotage or something cool like that. No, I got fired because I lied about being a beta when I was hired."

"Why would you feel the need to do that?" he asks.

Once the floodgates are open, there's really no stopping them. I delve down deep into what little energy I have left to deal with this and tell him everything from the very beginning of hitting puberty all the way to thinking that I might be becoming immune to my suppressants.

Letting out a slow whistle after I'm done, he slightly raises his hand. "Question, I still don't understand why you'd rather be at risk of going to jail after being fired rather than just being let go for technicalities."

"I don't know," I frustratingly answer, throwing my own hands up. "I think it was more because that's a secret I'd once been ready to carry to my grave if I had to. It wasn't their call to make, outing me like that."

"Andtheybeing the ex-boyfriend and the girl in his new pack?" he asks.

At my nod, his teeth clench tight before he admits, "Okay, yeah, that's not cool. Sounds to me like the guy might still have a thing for you if his girl is getting that jealous. "

I shake my head in denial, because I know for the realest of facts that it's not true. Muttering my thoughts out loud, I say, "Not like it matters, anyway. The truth would've come out sooner rather than later it seems."

"Why's that?" he asks.

I honestly feel bad for pouring my heart out to a man who's only job today was to cut my grass. He definitely did not sign up for this circus. Does that stop me from telling him? Pshh. No. While I give him the huge sob-turned-vengeful story that was me and George, he sits and listens patiently. Even as I mention him being furious over returning any kind of attention toward alphas. Which I'm quick to clarify that it wasn't out of jealousy. At least not in the romantic sense.

"A few weeks ago, I'd have run the other direction if an alpha had shown me any kind of attention. I've been lonely since George left, because it's just been us for years. But never would I have considered breaking down every barrier I've ever put in place to save myself the agony of a life I didn't want. I've been thinking that since I've done everything I wanted and successfully made a name for myself, what could it hurt to try letting alphas into my life as an omega and not a beta. Everything is just moving so fast. One second, I'm hiding who I am from the world, the next I'm being outed to everyone because I'm allowing myself to be courted by a pack. Now, I'm jobless on top of everything else, too. I'm pretty sure I'm only a couple steps away from being committed. I just need... Every. Thing. To. Just. Slow. Down."

"You know what helps, right?" he offers.

Glancing over at him, I can't help but notice how the light catches his slate-grey irises making them appear more metallic. Of course, being who I am at this point in my life, my eyes drop down to his lips, too, and the super-short mustache above them down to the tiny patch of hair beneath. Those lips creep up at the corners, and I flick my gaze back up.

"Making a list of things you've always wanted to do and never got around to," he finally says. "Oh, and not destroying your hands on your rose bushes while you're at it."

It sounds so ridiculous when he says it that I can't believe I actually did just that. I laugh, covering my face in shame. Reaching out, he takes the hand still in my lap and then the one pressed against my face. "What do you say we go get these cleaned up and get all the thorns out?"

"We probably should," I reply, a little breathless with the feeling of his warm skin touching mine.

He stands up off the steps and jogs down to where I dropped my keys in my haste to tear my bushes to shreds. When he makes it back to the porch, he hands them off instead of offering to unlock the door. Which makes me think he did it like that so if I had any last-minute thoughts about letting a strange man into my house then I could change my mind. Don't get me wrong, it does flash across my mind for half a second. Of course, what he doesn't know won't hurt him and that's the fact that hidden in multiple places in my house I do have a few things to defend myself if necessary. Thank you, George, for unlocking that new fear with your departure and leaving me alone in a big house with few neighbors.

As I let us both into the house, he stays a good distance away which makes me feel a bit safer. Though, my gut tells me that I've got nothing to worry about with him. Worst come to worst, they know who to look at first if I end up unalived.

Pulling me out of my scarily morbid thoughts, Kit asks, "Do you have a first-aid kit around here somewhere?"

"Yeah, just a second," I tell him, backtracking to the small bathroom in the hall. Grabbing the satchel we've always kept down here, but never actually had to use, I make my way back to him in the kitchen.

His posture is very relaxed as his gaze roams around the room before landing on me. Flashing me a smile that threatens to take me out, he motions for me to take the seat he's pulled out at the island. As I do, he claims the chair in front of me, taking the first-aid kit from me and opening it on the counter. I wait patiently as he pulls the tweezers out and I place my hand in his, palm facing up, when he reaches for it.

Beginning the task of plucking the thorns out of my skin, he starts talking. "With hands like these, it almost looks like you've found your new calling in the lawn care business. I can't tell you how many times I've had to dig thorns out of my skin since taking this job. Some in rather embarrassing places, too."

I laugh, careful not to jerk my hand. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," he breathes with a short laugh. The warm air skimming over my palm sends chills up my arm.

Trying to distract myself from the feeling that it stirs in my belly, I ask the first thing that comes to mind. "Are you from around here?"

He shakes his head, placing my first hand back in my lap and picking up the second one. "I was born in Florida and mostly grew up there with my mother's pack. After she passed, I dipped and have lived pretty nomad ever since."

"So, you move around a lot, then?" I ask, and when he nods, add, "Does it ever bother you not staying in one place?"

"Nah," he replies. "I've been to some pretty cool places and got to see some stuff I never would've if I'd have stayed close to home."

"What's your favorite place you've ever been?"

Finished picking the tiny bits of foliage from my skin, he sets the tweezers down and picks up the spray peroxide and a small gauze wipe before getting back to work. "Honestly? I didn't think anywhere would be able to beat sunsets on the beach, but being here has proved that wrong. With the flat layout of the land, it's like standing on the edge of the world sometimes."

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