Page 20 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

Cam walks on my left, smelling like warm linen and the kind of citrusy cologne that probably lowers your heart rate. It’s soothing, and dangerous in the way that comfort always is—like something you could fall into without noticing until it’s too late.

Jace, on the other hand, is all cedarwood, heat, and the subtle promise ofverybad decisions.

They both have that alpha posture—shoulders relaxed, legs slightly too long, as though the house was built to accommodate them and I’m the one who has to adjust.

And honestly, Iamadjusting. Rapidly.

And internally panicking about it.

“This is the laundry room,” Cam says cheerfully.

“Has great acoustics,” Jace adds. “If you’re into that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You mean for moaning, or karaoke?”

“Who says you have to choose?”

Cam makes a noise halfway between a laugh and an eye-roll. “It’s also where the dryer is. You know. Foractuallaundry.”

“Oh, I’m listening,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, though my heartbeat has picked up considerably. “Ilovedomestic tension.”

“You’re gonna love Jace’s protein pancake obsession, then,” Cam mutters.

“I heard that,” Jace says proudly.

We keep moving, but I keep glancing at Cam. He’s taller and broader than I remember—filled out more, too, his face more defined. But it’s not just that. It’s the calm he carries now; the way he walks as if he doesn’t need to prove anything. Thesteadinessin him.

I remember Cam as the youngest, the puppy dog alpha who blushed when I teased him and couldn’t make eye contact without stammering, butnow? He’s still a sweetheart, still softly spoken and genuinely kind, but there’s something different. Somethinggrown.

It hits me, suddenly, how dangerous it is to be this close to them: three scent-matches, all in one house. I swallow and try not to let it show on my face.

Jace is flirting, Cam is glowing, and Wes is… somewhere downstairs, probably planning a murder-suicide involving his own pride and a steak knife. Meanwhile, I’m standing between two biological magnets with a rapidly deteriorating sense of self-control and a scent blocker patch that’s doing its best but might not survive much longer.

“This one’s Cam’s room,” Jace leans in slightly as we pass another door. “Great lighting. Cozy bed.Veryphotogenic—if you’re into that kind of thing.”

I smirk. “Are you offering a tour or a calendar shoot?”

“Why not both?”

I let out an involuntary laugh—loud and bright, and maybe a bit too flirty on purpose, since IknowWes will hear it.

And Iknowhe’ll hate it.

Cam nudges me gently with his shoulder. “You okay?”

I glance up at him and catch something sincere in his amber eyes. He’s watching me carefully—not suspicious, not defensive, but quietly calm, andnoticing.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I’m good.”

For a moment, the tension eases.

Until Jace opens the next door and immediately says, “This would be anexcellentplace to make bad decisions.”

“Jace,” Cam sighs, rubbing his temple. “It’s the coat closet.”

“Some of my worst decisions have happened in coat closets,” Jace says, deadpan. “Small space. High stakes. Jackets for cushioning. It’s perfect, really.”

I press my lips together, trying not to giggle again—but I’m fighting a losing battle.

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