Page 42 of Pack Plus One

Liam shrugs modestly. “I was up early.”

“He stress-bakes,” Jude explains, grabbing a plate. “Or in this case, stress-breakfast-makes.”

“I don’t stress-bake,” Liam protests.

“You made soufflés the night before we launched Le Roux,” Mason points out, pulling out a chair for me at the table.

“And those weird little custard things before our investor meeting,” Jude adds, already piling his plate high.

“Pastéis de nata,” Liam corrects with a sigh. “And it’s not stress-baking. It’s... productive contemplation.”

Despite my discomfort, I find myself smiling. There’s something endearing about their familiar bickering, about the way they move around each other with the easy synchronicity of a long-established pack.

Caleb pulls out the chair next to mine and sits, his thigh brushing against mine. I tense, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, simply passing me the coffee pot.

“With a dash of cinnamon, right?” he asks.

I blink in surprise. “How did you?—”

“You mentioned it was your favorite,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “During the pre-wedding cocktail party.”

And he remembered.

My face heats again. “Thanks,” I murmur, accepting the coffee.

The pancakes are delicious—fluffy and light, with just a hint of cinnamon and vanilla. Under different circumstances, I’d be asking Liam why he chose this recipe. As it is, I force myself to eat slowly, hyperaware of the four males watching me with varying degrees of intensity.

“So,” Jude breaks the silence, “about last night.”

I choke on a bite of pancake. Mason immediately passes me a glass of water, which I gulp gratefully.

“Maybe not while she’s eating,” Liam suggests.

“What?” Jude looks genuinely confused. “I was just going to say it was awesome.”

My face is on fire. Actual fire. I’m certain I could fry another pancake on my cheeks right now.

“Jude,” Caleb warns.

“What? It was! We all thought so.” He looks at me with puppy-dog earnestness. “Right?”

Four pairs of eyes fix on me, waiting for my response. I stare down at my half-eaten pancakes, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

“It was... nice,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Nice?” Jude repeats, sounding scandalized. “You came four?—”

“Jude!” Liam and Caleb snap in unison.

“For God’s sake,” Mason mutters.

I close my eyes, willing myself to disappear. When that fails, I set down my fork with a controlled deliberation that belies the chaos in my head.

“Look,” I say, finally looking up to meet their gazes. “Last night was... unexpected.”

“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?” Jude asks, earning himself an elbow from Liam.

“Just... unexpected,” I repeat. “I don’t normally do this.”