Page 104 of Altius
“Don’t let her hear you say that.”
“Why not?” he grumbled. “The woman’s a traitor.”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
My phone vibrated. It was a group message from Papa asking for the guys’ contact info. A message he’d sent to the rest of my parents, Jacobi—and Kelsey.
Doomed. I was doomed.
Resisting Papa and Jacobi’s omega whims was possible. Slim, but possible.
But Kelsey, organizer extraordinaire, secret-keeper, who knew exactly how much these men had done for me in the past month? I didn’t dare try to dissuade her. It was too risky. Pissing her off so soon after my recent health scare wasn’t a good idea.
Besides, she was probably already concocting an elaborate menu.
“I know that look,” Jacobi said, wearing a maniacal smile. “The mighty Morgan admits defeat.”
“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter,” I said, dutifully replying with the guys’ phone numbers, then added a caveat of my own.
Alijah’s interested in oliebollen. Can you show him how to make them?
Papa and Kelsey replied with a variety of smiling emojis and a thumbs-up within a second of each other.
Good. One of the agreement stipulations for the piano had been met.
“Random question,” I asked, “how much is your piano worth?”
“Why?” Jacobi rolled off the side of the bed with an exaggerated groan. He looked in the mirror over the dresser and attempted to fix his hair.
“I’m buying it from Pack Redmond for Kelsey for Christmas.”
“Really?” Excited eyes met mine in the mirror.
“Yeah. Figure she can’t turn down a gift that big if I’ve already paid for it.”
“I feel like an idiot. Should have just given it to her.”
I shook my head. “She wouldn’t have accepted it.”
“Well, since I’m in a giving mood, how about I pay for the relocation and tuning? No need to thank me—wait, on second thought, you still owe me a debrief about your heat. And I’m craving a burrito.”
Raising a brow at him, I asked, “Is this you inviting me out to dinner?”
“No, we’re getting delivery and hunkering down in the library.” Slipping his arm through mine, Jacobi steered metoward the door. “Don’t even think about skimping on the details.”
***
Cal’s chuckle swept over me, momentarily erasing the seventy miles between us.
The dark wood and somber fabrics of his room at the Carling compound in Rosellen Cove were expensive yet strangely sterile. It was apparent he didn’t spend much time there.
Nothing like my cozy childhood bedroom, where I was currently decompressing in bed with a mug of hibiscus tea.
Christmas had been lovely but loud. And tomorrow would be even worse.
Kelsey and Papa had tag-teamed to ensure all of my so-called guys would be wined and dined within an inch of their life.
“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” he teased. “We’ve all been properly socialized and housetrained.”
