Page 134 of Pack Plus One

“You two. Out,” she says, though there’s more resignation than actual outrage in her tone.

Liam pulls back immediately. His eyes are darker than usual, but his composure returns quickly as he straightens his blazer, which has gone slightly askew.

“Apologies,” he tells the clerk with such genuine politeness that her stern expression softens slightly.

“Just buy the book if you like it that much,” she says with a wave of her hand.

Liam does exactly that, purchasing not only that collection but also three other books he noticed me lingering over during our browsing. His thoughtfulness touches me more than I think he even knows.

Outside, the air has a crisp edge that feels refreshing against my flushed skin. Liam takes my hand as we walk, his long fingers interlacing with mine in a way that feels both casual and significant.

“Is this your way of saying I’m your muse?” I ask, bumping his shoulder playfully as I hold up the poetry book.

I expect him to deflect with some academic observation. Instead, he stops walking, turning to face me with an expression so open and vulnerable it steals my breath.

“Yes,” he says simply.

Just that. One syllable, delivered with such quiet certainty that it lands like a weight in my chest.

“Oh,” I manage, suddenly finding the sidewalk fascinating.

He places a finger under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “Is that alright?”

When I meet his gaze, the look in his eyes is so raw, so genuine, that I’m left speechless. If he says I’m his muse, he means it. He has probably analyzed the statement from every angle before voicing it.

“I’ve never been anyone’s muse before,” I admit. “I’m not sure I know how.”

His smile is gentle. “There’s no manual.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight. “You’re really good at this,” I finally murmur.

“At what?”

“This dating thing...”

His expression softens. “That’s not a skill, Leah. It’s simply paying attention to what matters.”

Before I can respond to this casually devastating statement, my phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Jude:

Is Liam boring you with poetry yet? Blink twice if you need rescue. I’m outside the record store with donuts and ZERO academic intentions.

I laugh, turning the screen so Liam can see it. “Your pack is checking up on you.”

“Our pack,” he corrects mildly, and there’s a hint of alpha possessiveness in the way his hand tightens slightly around mine. “And they’re simply impatient for their own turns.”

“Well, they’ll have to wait,” I say, tucking my phone away without responding. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His pleased smile warms me more than the coffee he buys me from the shop next door, where we spend the next hour discussing everything from ancient brewing techniques to his grandmother’s secret cookie recipe. When he drives me home that evening, I…don’t want to say goodbye. Lingering in my doorway, I look up at him.

“Thank you for today,” I tell him, meaning it completely.

“The pleasure was mine,” he responds, and somehow the formal phrase doesn’t sound stiff coming from him.

When he leans in to kiss me goodnight, it’s gentle but thorough, a promise rather than a demand. As he turns to leave, I catch his wrist.

“Would you like to come in?”

His pupils dilate noticeably, but he shakes his head with obvious reluctance. “The others would never let me hear the end of it if I did.”