Page 20 of Pack Favero

Italian accent thicker than Charlie’s, Amara holds her arms out in greeting and says, “Ragazzi miei, you’re back again.”

“Hey, Mara. How’re you doing?” Ford asks, accepting her hug before pulling back and allowing me to take one from the sweet, little lady.

“Bene, bene. How are you? How was the trip to Tokyo? It was Tokyo, wasn’t it?” she answers, patting my cheek when she pulls away, taking with her the scent of dough and a sweet vanilla that is biologically hers.

“It was good. We have a new store opening there in the next coming months,” I explain, enjoying the way her face lights up with pride.

“Sorprendente!How exciting,” she gushes, stepping up to her bonded packmate’s side and smacks him with the back of her hand against his dad bod figure. “I’m still waiting for this one to allow me to open another restaurant. My day will come.”

With a sassy shake of her head, Amara mutters a curse word in Italian that has Charlie laughing before she walks off, shouting, “Seat our boys and the little beauty attached to their arm,amore mio. I already know what to make.”

And then she’s gone, leaving Charlie no choice but to do as he’s told.

“You heard the woman. Let’s get you seated,” he chuckles, grabbing a drink menu and bypassing the food menu. We order here enough that Charlie and Amara know what we like. I’m not even concerned that they didn’t ask Zira, because I don’t doubt she’ll love whatever Amara makes for her. She’s the best damned cook in the area, as far as I’m concerned. Well, the best after Barnes.

Leading us through the restaurant, smiling and waving at customers, Charlie leads us straight to our favorite booth tucked away in the back, the low lighting offering a cozyatmosphere while relaxing music plays gently from nearby speakers.

I can’t help but watch Zira as she takes it all in, her smile growing positively beaming by the time we’re seated in the rounded booth, the omega tucked between my brother and me.

With a wave and a promise that food won’t be long, Charlie takes our drink orders and leaves with a dramatic bow that makes Zira laugh, and I find myself enjoying this relaxed version of her.

“You seem lighter after your visit with your mom,” I mention, smiling at her when she hums sweetly.

“Yeah. She always has a way of talking sense into me while also making sure that she doesn’t think I’m a dumbass for my choices, even though I’m convinced she lowkey does. It would be hypocritical for her to mention it, though, so she sweetly disguises it with her wisdom. But I do feel much better after talking with her for a while,” she confirms, still eyeing the restaurant with approval.

I share a pleased look with my brother before settling into my seat, relaxing for the first time since leaving the house.

“Wisdom, huh?” Ford teases, and I love the way Zira’s eyes glitter with amusement in response.

“Oh, sure. Very sage wisdom. She’s like the Yoda of my life,” she laughs, and I store that sound in a vault in my mind for safekeeping.

Lips twitching, I ask, “What kind of advice did she part with?”

That’s when her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Oh, no. That’s not appropriate dinner talk. Safe to say she spoke some sense into me, made me blush several shades of red, and forced me to promise to make things right. That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

She sends us both a challenging look that I absolutelyadore, and I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m good with you keeping your secrets with your mom so long as it keeps you this happy.”

“Mhm,” Ford hums. “I have to agree. Happy looks good on you, pretty girl. Even that blush emphasizes your beauty.”

Sure enough, the woman blushes on cue right before she perfumes, and I have to bite my lip to stop any kind of sound escaping me that will give away how deeply obsessed I am already with her and her scent.

“Well, I can promise it’ll stay that way as soon as I get some carbs in my system,” she quips, flashing us both a grin that I also etch into my memory.

“Duly noted,” I reply, my grin growing to match hers, sure I’m blushing just as deeply as she is. It doesn’t matter, though, because for the first time in a very long time, Ford and I are enjoying the company of a woman who wants nothing from us and it’s looking to be the best day we’ve had in too long.

So, with the company of a beautiful omega who’s made me smile more in a day than I have in the past several months, I settle in to enjoy her company for however long she will allow it. Then I’ll drop the phone bomb on her and hope I don’t ruin the evening entirely.

Chapter 7

Lazarus

Scrolling through my mobile, checking the stock market as I do every morning, I meander down the stairs and head directly to the kitchen. It’s early enough that I know my lazy packmates are likely still asleep, though I do envy Cormac and Crawford their reasoning for remaining cozied up in bed, sound asleep.

It was late, just gone midnight, when the pair waltzed their happy arses into the house, smelling like a banana-cantered desert with faint hints of caramel that always gives me a hankering for something sweet. More specifically, someone sweet. As it was, the little minx is still somewhat jazzed off at me for the part I played in crossing a line I didn’t realise would result in me residing in the doghouse for the past six weeks.

I’m a patient man, though, and I have no qualms about earning the forgiveness of the omega I’ve not stopped thinking about since the moment we met at that hospital. Of course, she looked as sweet as she smells, her scent a constant in our home no thanks to Barnes and his constant vicinity to Zira at the university. At the first look at those tear-glassed eyes, a shade several degrees lighter than mine in colour, and the pale skin painted with dark freckles and full lips meant for kissing, I was a goner. Zira Favero resides in my head at all times now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if she puts plenty of energy into ignoring my very existence or telling me off for daring to speak to her.

Lips twitching with amusement, I go about fixing a cup of tea, lost to my thoughts of the prickly, little omega I’ve grown beyond fond of. I’m so deep in my thoughts of her and her flame-like hair and fiery temper that I almost spill scalding hot waterover the edge of my mug when Barnes appears like a phantom.

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