Page 3 of Lilacs and Leather

Mateo is late. Again.

Standing in the lobby of Wickland House, I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth time this hour. I should have known better than to ask him to pick me up. I should have just agreed to meet him, like always. But when he offered to drive, I couldn’t say no.

I look around, trying to see if Lucas is here yet. But he knows better than me. 8 AM in regular time is 9 AM in Mateo time. When I’d left, he was just rolling out of bed, complaining loudly about how awful morning people are. I let the passive aggression slide, at least for the moment.

Cursing under my breath, I unlock my phone and pull up my message thread, fingers flying over the keys as I type.

Me: Have you heard from Mat? He’s late.

I pace around for a moment, scanning the arches and ceiling, inspecting the structure for weaknesses. There aren’t any, but habits are hard to break. My phone buzzes in my hand with a reply.

Luc: Mateo, late? I’m shocked. SHOCKED.

Luc: No, haven’t heard anything. I’ll be down in a few, lobby?

Me: Yes. Please hurry. Lex is going to kill us if we throw off her schedule.

Luc: Yes, sir.

I growl low in my chest at the exchange. My beta always knows how to soothe my nerves.

I step out of the way of a group entering the building, smiling lightly at the excited energy radiating off them. They are wearing similar black shirts, with text across the back of the shoulders. The shirt of the man in the center of the group proclaims him as the groom, and the rest are his “groom crew.” Wedding season is upon us, it seems. I fire a quick message to the property manager group chat, asking for reports on the landscaping of the other venues my pack owns. I’m sure Lex has it handled, but double checking is my job.

I look at the time again after sending the messages. Forty-two minutes late. Over average, even for Mateo. Still doesn’t come close to his personal record—two hours. If that man shows up on time to his own funeral, Hell will freeze over. I open my messages again.

Me: Where are you? We agreed on eight.

The reply comes fast, which was a slight comfort. At least he’s awake.

Mateo: I’m around the corner. Untwist your panties.

Me: Lex is going to crucify you if you throw off her schedule.

Mateo: She can certainly try ;-)

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Around the corner” could mean anywhere between Mateo’s bed and the front curb. He might be willing to provoke Lex, but I sure as shit wasn’t.

Me: Sorry, Lex. Mateo is running exceptionally late. We’ll be there as soon as we can.

Lex: I counted on it. I’ve only just finished dressing.

Me: And you didn’t send me any progress photos? You wound me.

Lex: Next time, stay home with me, and you can oversee the entire operation. But alas, you needed to entertain our wayward beta.

Me: You are the one who told me, and I quote, “if you are going to keep making him scream all night, do it somewhere else.”

Lex: A decision I stand behind, my love. I will be getting our breakfast order started shortly. Any cravings?

Me: Are you on the menu?

Lex: Not for breakfast. Maybe for lunch.

I’m about to type my reply when a passing breeze stirs from across the lobby, bringing a scent to my nose that has my spine straightening and my cock hardening.

I turn my head, inhaling deep as I scan for the source of that scent. Floral, but soft. Lilacs? Lavender? But then it’s sweet, honey and vanilla. My eyes find a woman standing across the lobby, holding an intricate floral arrangement. Her eyes are closed, chin tipped up slightly. Her toffee-colored hair is pulled up in a bun, but pieces have fallen out and stick to her delicate throat, and my teeth snap together as I imagine sinking them into her flesh. I rake my gaze down from her face to the unflattering shirt that’s doing very little to hide her incredible breasts, over the sky blue apron pulled around a curvy stomach, down to a spectacular ass, and thick thighs I want to get lost between. She’s not tall, and her curvy body is perfectly proportioned, and I nearly lose myself in imagining how her soft flesh would feel under my fingers.

Her head turns towards me, and my next inhale catches in my throat as her eyes open and lock with mine. Green, so verdant and liquid. Earth and rain carry on the next inhale. Her scent sends me back to my childhood in New England, memories of running among the flowering bushes during those first gloriously warm days after the snow melted for good fill my heart with warmth. I lurch a step forward, my body wanting to go to her before my mind can catch up.

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