Page 21 of Pack Larsen

Silver

“Get that look off your face. We’re not doing it,” Munro snaps before I can even open my mouth to make them an offer they can’t refuse.

Frowning, I glare over at Munro and gripe, “You don’t have to do shit. I’d rather sooner push you into a vat of cow spit than allow you to be my fake date.”

I realize as soon as the words are out that I don’t mean them, because for all of Munro’s misery and annoying attitude, he’s the most perfect out of them all to rub in my mother’s face. Covered head to toe in tattoos, the dark ink spanning up his neck, into his hairline, and trailing down his arms and over his fingers, he looks like a walking, book-boyfriend stereotype. With his dark, mussed curls on top of his head, a look that would slit your throat if it held the power, and an uncanny ability to piss you off, just the sight of him alone would send my mother into a raging bitch fit.

But that’s not why I want them there. Oh, no. It’s simply a bonus that these godlike creatures will send her into a tizzy for not being primped and polished like the stiffs she keeps trying to parade in front of me. It’s the awkward encounter she will be forced to have the moment she sees me surrounded by gorgeous men she wasn’t expecting.

“I said we’re not doing it. Stop looking at me like that,” he damn near growls, and I suppress the shiver my body almost shakes with, damn near revealing that I might have a crush on the asswad.

Deciding I’ll get nowhere with the beta, I turn my back to him, receiving another growl that makes my lips twitch. Instead, I focus on the other three, Haze and Pace already watching me while Rage continues on with the movie. Pretty sure he’s not watching it, though. I sense his attention is firmly planted on the conversation at hand, and I bite my lip to hide my satisfaction over it.

Pulling myself to the edge of the seat, Aero’s hand still in mine but slack now that he sees I’m not fighting this proposal any longer, I lick my lower lip and eye the three alphas. I ignore the way Haze watches my tongue, because I don’t have time to unpack that yet, and dive into my offer. “How about this? I let you all stay here rent free for however long you want if you come with me to this charity thing. I’ll fix you guys up with tuxedos, ties, and all the bells and whistles. You don’t have to spend a single penny, only your time. A couple of hours, that’s all. We show up, support Meemaw—

“Who the fucking hell is Meemaw?” Munro blurts, exasperated and growing increasingly louder.

He goes ignored as I continue, “—with her fundraisers and stuff, mingle if we have to, stay for Alek’s auction, and then we’re out of there like our asses are on fire. You can even sell the tuxedos after and keep the money.”

“That’s a lot of cash to be throwing around. Must be nice,” Rage mutters under his breath, proving that he’s listening and displaying his hand that screams my wealth bothers him.

I ignore him, too, because I’m not about his pettiness right now when I’m trying to negotiate.

“It’s one night where you have to pretend that you can tolerate me. One night where I can be in the same room as my mother without the heavy pit of dread I always feel when I’m around her. One single night that I can spend supporting the woman that took care of me without having to be on guard for the one that birthed me. And you guys can live here however long you need or want for free,” I reiterate, on the verge of begging at this point.

To think I was completely against this idea mere minutes ago.

I’m left to sit on pins and needles while the guys all share looks, each one more telling than the last. They discuss my proposal without even uttering a word, their familiarity sending pangs of longing through me while I anxiously await their answer.

It takes a little longer than imagined, but after a nod of agreement from Haze, a sigh of acceptance from Rage, and a slew of colorful curse words from Munro, Pace finally says, “Counteroffer. Werenttuxedos, no buying. We don’t pay rent for six months, because we’re not having you pay our way here indefinitely. And you have to dance with Munro.”

“What the fuck?” the beta and I both exclaim at the same time, sharing a look before scowling at one another.

“Just say you hate me. That would hurt less than being subjected to that torture,” I grumble, looking back at Pace and finding his lips pulling up in an entertained smile. Damn, why doesn’t he do that more often? Or maybe he shouldn’t, because I think my panties have disintegrated. At least I’m not perfuming right now. That would have sucked.

“One dance with Munro and we’ll agree,” Pace repeats, a single eyebrow lifting on his head with a challenge that already sets me on edge.

“No the fuck we are not agreeing,” Munro tries to inject, attempting and failing to intercept the negotiations happening without his approval. It would be funny if I wasn’t taking this as seriously as a heart attack.

“One dance?” I check, eyeing the now fully smiling alpha speculatively. Something tells me he likes getting his way, and the way he’s smiling at me like the cat who got the canary is enough to confirm it.

“Just one,” he confirms, sending Munro a look that has the beta shutting up with an irritated huff and grumble, before focusing back on me. Reaching over Haze and Rage, he holds his hand out to me and says, “You agree to that, and you have yourself a deal. We’ll be your pack for the evening.”

My pack. Damn my heart for wanting that. A pack of my own, even a fake one for one night just to stick it to my mother.

Mulling it over, I decide it’s too good of an adjustment to my offer to pass. So, with an annoyed acceptance, I reach over for Pace’s hand and slip my smaller one into his much bigger and hotter one. Together, we shake on it, and it’s like the tension evaporates from the room the moment we part ways, his touch lingering long after it’s gone.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s going to be fun, guys. Just you watch,” Aero declares, finally releasing my other hand, only to sling his over my shoulder with a familiarity we do not have but I so desperately want. Man, how sad am I? Practically chomping at the bit for little bits of affection from a guy I thought hated me just last week.

Rage snorts like he’s beyond dubious, Haze nods like he believes Aero, and Pace sits back with a pleased look on his face that makes me feel like I’ve somehow been suckered. I probably have. Something tells me Pace would have agreed without my bargain, but at least I don’t have to stress about the benefit now.

A slow grin forms on my mouth, and my words slip free before I can stop them, “My mother is going to shit herself when she sees you guys.”

“Why? We look as poor as we are or something? That why you want us to go with you?” Rage quips, his barb hitting a little harder and stinging a little more fiercely than his nonchalant tone intended.

I try to bottle the sudden hurt that blooms in my chest, my good mood evaporating as quickly as it came while I chew my inner cheek before I say, “No, actually. It’s because this will be the first time I show up to an event of hers with someone, and she won’t know how to handle it. There will likely be four, maybe five, packs there waiting to meet me just because she’s a conniving bitch who keeps trying to force me into a pack of her choosing. With you all being there, she’ll fumble and make an ass out of herself and I don’t have to uncomfortably excuse myself from a bunch of tools who only want to bond with me to get into my parents’ company’s panties. But hey, you keep judging me if that’s what makes you feel good.”

With Aero’s hold on me loosened, I finally stand, quick enough that he doesn’t have a chance to catch me. I ignore the fierce scowl on Munro’s face, the wince from Haze on his brother's behalf, and the sudden scolded look on Rage’s face. I don’t even look at Pace, sure I’ll find him staring intensely again. Whatever. I’m not getting into it. If they want to keep judging me for having more than them, then that’s their prerogative. I got to where I am by being smart with a trust fund I didn’t know about and wasn’t expecting. I was more than happy to get a job and start paying my way in the world, finally free of my parents’ clutches. I was beyond surprised when, two years into my big-girl job, Meemaw handed over my trust as an eighteenth birthday gift. I’ve barely spent a cent, smartly investing most of it, with Alek and his pack’s help. The house these assholes are living in was bought and gifted to me by my grandparents, each of them insisting I needed somewhere safe to stay that was close to school and Alek. The only true spending I’ve made was on my Ducati and studio, and the money spent was profit from the investments. The money my grandparents gave me is still sitting in stocks and investments now, cultivating profit that I’m hoping to spend at the charity. I still work the job I was offered at sixteen, for fuck’s sake, and Iloveit.

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