Page 7 of Knot what I want for Christmas
Annie gives me a guilty little smile. “Are you angry with me, Hollie?” she asks.
“Angry?” I say. “Why would I be angry?”
“For not telling you about the pack thing. Your mom got sick about the same time Clay got together with his pack. So, I guess I never really told you about it at the time. And then, I don’t know, I just forgot. I forgot it was a big deal for an omega.”
“Oh,” I say, really wishing and willing my cheeks not to pinken. “It’s not a big deal. It’s fine. I was just curious because there don’t seem to be enough bedrooms, and there’s only one bed in Clay’s room and it’s a single bed at that.” Something I find surprising for an alpha – an alpha that smells the way he does and looks as hot as he does. Unless, when he’s hooking up with the countless women that he must be hooking up with, he always goes back to their place.
“That’s his old bedroom, his childhood bedroom.” Which makes a lot of sense now I come to think about it, given the model racing cars, the dinosaur bedsheets, and all the comics.“Clay and his packmates are staying in one of the cabins out on the ranch until they’ve built their own house.”
“They’re building their own house? Where?”
“On the ranch, silly,” Annie says.
“On the ranch?” I cry. “Geez, how big is this place?”
“10,000 acres, Hollie. Plenty of room. They wanted to build their own house for their own family.”
“Oh,” I say again, this time concentrating with all my might on not letting my cheeks burst into flame. Of course –of course– Clay Jackson would have a pack – a pack that includes that seriously hot cowboy I saw out there on his horse in the field. Of course, Clay Jackson and his hot packmate would have an omega. Of course, Clay Jackson, his hot packmate and their omega would be on the verge of starting a family. Of course, some girl would already have snapped them up. That’s just logical.
“So… they’re starting a family?”
“Well, not yet,” Annie says. “They’ve got to build the house first.”
“Right,” I say. “And are they going to get married?”
My best friend looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You know Clay isn’t gay, right? I mean, I know I don’t talk a lot about my big brother, but I think I’ve mentioned girlfriends in the past.”
“I wasn’t suggesting he was gay.”
“You just asked me if he was married. I assume you meant to his packmates.”
“No, no, I meant – ” I can feel myself digging a hole, and I wish, in some ways, I was, then I could fall right into it and the earth could swallow me up. Or maybe now would be the perfect time for aliens to swoop down and abduct me. I wish I’d never started this conversation. “You said they were starting a family. I assume they’re starting a family with, you know, a girl.”
“Ahhhh,” Annie says, with a hint of a smile. “You’re asking me if they’re dating anyone.”
“I was not asking you whether they were dating anyone.”
“You so were,” she says.
“Well, are they?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Hollie Bright,” Annie says, also crossing her arms over her chest and mirroring my prickly posture. “Are you interested in my brother? Because that is kind of gross.”
“Is it?” I ask.
“Totally,” she says. “My best friend and my brother.” She makes a gagging face.
“I’m not interested,” I tell her. Okay, possibly I am a little bit interested. I bet there isn’t an omega on the planet who wouldn’t be interested in Clay Jackson – despite his obvious downsides – that grumpy attitude being the most obvious one. There are enough upsides – the good looks, the countless endless number of muscles and that mouthwatering scent.
But in my experience, alphas are problems. They may look hot, they may smell delicious, they may do things to an omega’s body that an omega just can’t control, but they’re also arrogant, uptight, and rude. And Clay Jackson, in my experience, is all three of those things. I’m definitely not interested in him and his scrummy scent or his obscenely big biceps or his tight-fitting jeans. Not at all.
“I’m glad we got that cleared up then,” Annie says, narrowing her eyes at me. “Shall we continue the tour now?”
“Yes,” I say.
“You sure?” she asks. “You don’t want to go sniff my brother’s bedsheets?”
“Annie!” I yelp.
