Page 3 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
"I saw the help wanted sign," I said, then added more honestly, "I need work. I'm new in town."
"I'm Hollis. This is my place." He gestured around the bookstore with obvious affection. "What draws you to books?"
"They don't ask questions," I said before I could stop myself.
He smiled like that was exactly the right answer. "Perfect. You start tomorrow."
It couldn't be that simple. Jobs didn't just... happen. There were applications and references and background checks and explanations about gaps in employment history. But Hollis was already showing me the register system, explaining the simple daily tasks, like my past was irrelevant as long as I could shelve books and make coffee.
His scent was earth and sage, pleasant and calming but not affecting me the way Wes's cedar smoke had yesterday. Strange how some alpha signatures cut right through suppressantswhile others felt merely... friendly. Hollis felt like a supportive colleague, nothing more. In fact, everything about this place seemed intentionally peaceful, like it had been designed as a refuge rather than a business.
"Some people need loud, energetic environments," Hollis explained, running his fingers along a shelf of poetry. "Others need quiet spaces to breathe. Pine & Pages is for the breathing people. The pay is fair, the hours are flexible, and the customers tend to be readers, which means they understand the value of quiet moments," Hollis continued. "Does that work for you?"
"Yes," I managed. "That works perfectly."
We spent the next hour going over the basics. The coffee station served simple drinks with an emphasis on herbal teas and calming blends. Customers were encouraged to browse and linger, not pressured to buy. Even the ordering system was fairly straight forward. It was everything I hadn't known I was looking for in a workplace.
"I'll have you start with morning shifts," Hollis said as we finished the tour. "Seven to three, Tuesday through Saturday. That gives you most of the weekends to settle in, and mornings tend to be our quieter time."
I was gathering my things to leave when the front door chimed with more force than necessary. The entire atmosphere of the bookstore shifted, charged with a different kind of energy. Alpha. Not the gentle, earthy presence of Hollis, but something sharper, more volatile.
The scent hit me like a physical blow. Smoked cardamom and pine, leather and honest work and something that cut through my suppressants like they weren't even there. Why did this keep happening? What was wrong with me?
"Hollis, I need to borrow your wifi again. My supplier's being…" The voice cut off abruptly.
I turned toward the sound and immediately understood why. The man in the doorway was staring at me like I'd materialized out of thin air, a coffee mug hanging forgotten from his fingers. When it slipped and shattered against the wooden floor, neither of us moved to clean it up.
He was exactly the kind of alpha I'd been hoping to avoid while simultaneously being exactly the kind I'd always been drawn to despite my better judgment. Muscular frame in a fitted black t-shirt that had seen better days, tattooed forearms, sharp green eyes that seemed to see everything. Motor oil stains on his hands suggested he actually worked with them, and the way he carried himself said he didn't particularly care what anyone thought about it.
My body responded before my brain could engage damage control. Heat pooled low in my belly, my skin flushed, and for one terrifying moment I felt like every wall I'd built since Sterling was made of tissue paper. This was exactly what the suppressants were supposed to prevent.
"Shit," he muttered, staring at the broken ceramic. "Sorry, Hollis. I'll clean it up."
But he wasn't looking at Hollis. He was looking at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve.
"It's fine," Hollis said mildly, already moving toward the supply closet for a broom. "Rhett, meet Willa. She's starting work here tomorrow."
"Willa," he repeated, like he was testing how my name felt in his mouth.
I should have said something polite. Should have offered to help clean up. Instead, I stood there drowning in smoked cardamom and the way his green eyes seemed to see everything I was trying to hide.
"Erm… you two know each other?" I asked lamely, noting the easy familiarity between the alphas.
"Small town," Rhett said by way of explanation. "Everyone knows everyone."
"Rhett owns the auto shop," Hollis clarified, sweeping up ceramic pieces with practiced efficiency. "Callahan Motors. He comes by occasionally to use our wifi when his acts up."
"Occasionally," Rhett said dryly. "And it's not acting up. It's being deliberately sabotaged by whatever passes for internet service out here."
Despite everything—the suppressant failure, the unwanted attraction, the way he was still staring at me like I was an unsolved equation—I almost smiled. There was something refreshing about his blunt honesty after months of Sterling's carefully curated responses to everything.
"I should go," I managed, edging toward the door. "Let you handle... whatever you need to handle."
"Parts research," he said, voice rougher than it had been moments before. "Nothing that can't wait."
But he didn't move to let me pass, and I didn't push past him. We stood there in some kind of standoff until Hollis cleared his throat.
"Willa just moved to town," Hollis said awkwardly, clearly trying to ease the tension. "From the city."
