Page 13 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Eight

Wyatt

“ I ’m so proud of you,” Maricela Toledano said as we stood in our dining room, admiring the city skyline.

Joaquin’s omega mother was a tiny woman with the same golden-tan complexion as her son.

Her sparkling brown eyes shone behind the thick lenses of her glasses as she pulled me in for yet another hug.

“We’re proud of all of you.” His beta mother, Louise, patted Owen on the back. My brother seemed pleased with the compliments, less so with the physical contact. “You’ve had an incredible year. I didn’t think anything could top Joaquin and Alijah’s mating—”

“Nothing can,” Joaquin called from the kitchen, where he and Alijah were filling our freezer with tamales and empanadas, leftovers from our belated Toledano-style Thanksgiving lunch.

It was my second big meal in as many days, and I was ready for a nap.

“You’re all a bunch of showoffs,” Joaquin’s youngest sister, Carmen, teased, sitting at the kitchen island.

She was the only sibling who resembled Joaquin, though her features were far more balanced, without his overbearing brows or strong nose.

“New pack, new house, new job… How are we supposed to compete?”

Joaquin walked over and playfully messed up her long, curly hair. “We’re just trying to set a good example for you three.”

The Toledano ladies groaned and promptly headed for the exit.

Another prolonged round of goodbyes and small talk ensued in the open doorway. Maricela and Louise gave Alijah and Joaquin multiple rounds of hugs and kisses on the cheek. I wasn’t sure the hallway had ever been this loud or crowded.

The elevator door slid open, and Morgan walked out. She was wearing a black coat and jeans, with a weekender bag slung over her shoulder. A loaded grocery bag was clasped in each hand.

She faltered at the sight of us.

For a split second, discomfort shadowed her eyes. Then her socialization switch flipped. She straightened up, perfect posture on display.

“Hey, doc,” Joaquin said. “This is my family.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, wearing her professional smile. Her fingers tightened on the bag handles. They were preventing her from shaking hands. “I’m Morgan, their neighbor.”

I stepped forward and took the bags from her. They were even heavier than they looked, packed to the brim with Thanksgiving leftovers.

“Morgan?” Carmen raised her brows at her two sisters, then leaned toward Maricela and whispered, “ That Morgan?”

“Oh, you’re the nice doctor who takes such good care of our Alijah.” Maricela took Morgan’s hands and pulled her closer, ignoring that she was even stiffer than Owen when it came to unexpected physical contact. “I’m Maricela, and this is Louise. We’re Joaquin’s moms. And these are his sisters.”

As Maricela quickly introduced the girls, Morgan’s gaze flickered toward me. I gave her a look of silent commiseration. Their names and faces would slip right out of her brain, and she couldn’t link any of them with their scents as a memory aid. Something I was still trying to wrap my head around.

But Morgan maintained a perfectly polite facade. “Is this your first time visiting since they moved in?”

“Yes,” Louise said. “We wanted to come earlier, but our schedules didn’t align.”

Carmen’s nod of agreement had more than her fair share of sass. “We had to wait until we could all come at the same time, because he hates being outnumbered.”

“Which is always, I might add,” Maricela said with a wink.

“And that’s why I only tolerate you all in moderation.” Joaquin smoothly stepped between his mother and Morgan to press the elevator call button, holding the door for his family and Alijah to get on.

“Nice meeting you all,” Morgan said, slowly backing toward her front door.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon,” Carmen said with a hopeful smile just before the elevator door slid shut—but not fast enough to obscure Joaquin’s annoyed glare or Alijah hiding his face in his hands.

Morgan unlocked the door with her thumbprint, holding back Tenny with her foot so I could follow her. I ducked inside, trying to shut the door behind me before either of the cats could escape into the hallway.

Long fingers stopped it from closing at the last second. Owen slipped across the threshold, looking as wrung out as I felt.

“Ah, silence,” he murmured with an appreciative exhale and headed for the reading chair.

Morgan blinked at him in confusion, then turned to look at me.

“We’re stuffed and tired of talking about major life events,” I said, setting the bags on the counter.

“I see.” Morgan began unpacking the leftovers, a smile flickering in one corner of her mouth. “So, I guess you don’t want any pie.”

“I said stuffed, not full.” Pulling open the utensil drawer, I helped myself to a knife and fork. Then I took a plate from the dish cabinet. “There’s a distinct difference.”

Rolling her eyes, Morgan set two pie containers before me. “There’s pumpkin, apple, and cranberry gingersnap. Help yourself.”

I glanced at Owen, wondering if he wanted pie, too. He was absorbed in the stacks of white papers and research notes scattered across the coffee table. Leaving him to his own devices was the safest bet.

“So,” Morgan asked as she opened the turkey container, drawing greedy meows from both cats. “How was Thanksgiving with your aunts?”

“Absolutely priceless,” I said, cutting large slivers of each pie. “Because Alijah beat Aunt Edith at poker. Won five grand.”

“What?” Morgan froze, holding a selection of bite-size morsels in her hand.

“Yup. Joaquin was down to his last twenty bucks and dared her to go all in.” I took a large bite of the pumpkin pie—perfect crust, with just the right amount of cinnamon. So much better than Aunt Tabby’s.

“And Edith played along, not knowing Alijah had the better hand?”

Tenny wound between Morgan’s ankles as she walked around the island, both cats mewling incessantly until she dropped the turkey into their bowls. They gobbled it down in two seconds flat.

“That’s the best part. He didn’t realize he had the winning hand.

It was a straight flush, but the cards weren’t very high.

” I tried the apple pie next. It fell just short of Maricela’s apple empanadas.

“He thought Joaquin’s four Jacks were better and was celebrating, thinking his mate finally pulled off a win—only for Edith to ask if he wanted his winnings in cash or check. ”

“Cash sounds more fun,” she said, ignoring Kip as he reared up, batting at her thigh, begging for more turkey while she transferred the leftover containers to the fridge.

“I would’ve taken the cash, too. But Alijah wanted the check, mostly because I don’t think he believed it was real.”

Not sure if I liked the look of the cranberry gingersnap’s pie bright red curd, I took a test bite—only for tart perfection to explode on my tongue. I shoveled half the slice into my mouth in one go.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Morgan shut the refrigerator and offered me a rare full smile. “Kelsey made it.”

“Can she make more of it?” I couldn’t get enough of the cookie-like crust.

“No need.” Opening the freezer, Morgan pulled out a fresh pie and slid it across the island toward me. “She made six—because my family eats the same amount as an army squad—but wasn’t sure if people would like it. Consider it a thank you for being my chauffeur.”

“What do I get,” Owen asked as he approached, carrying a selection of her white papers, “if I give you access to the Redwing research library?”

She raised a skeptical brow. “I’d say whatever you want, but I’m afraid you’re after my kidney or something.”

“I’ll settle for pie.”

He sat down at the island and gave me an expectant look, bordering on dominant, content to wait until I served him. I shot him a dirty look and went to grab a fresh plate.

“Wait.” Slightly trembling fingers grabbed my arm. Morgan stared at Owen. “You’re not serious, are you?”

He tapped the stack of papers beside him. “These are outdated. Our resources are better than the university’s. I need you on the same page as my team when it comes to research.”

Checkmate, Owen.

Trying not to show how amused I was by my brother’s smooth maneuver, I asked, “Surely that warrants some pie?”

Morgan gave a stiff nod, still regarding him with a hint of distrust despite the excitement glowing in her eyes.

Little did she know that knowledge dumps were Owen’s equivalent of flirting. Like a socially awkward overlord pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes on the playground.

I slid him a plate of cranberry gingersnap pie across the island.

Owen cut a small, precise bite, only for his eyes to go wide and stare at the pie in surprise. “That is good.”

Morgan snapped a photo of us. “I’ll let Kelsey know she has two more satisfied customers.”

She typed a quick text, hit send, and placed her phone on the island, screen side up. It immediately exploded with notifications.

Morgan scrambled to grab it, but she wasn’t fast enough.

What’s that short fucker doing there?

“Shit,” she muttered, glaring at her phone.

I couldn’t stop myself from smirking. “You texted it to your sibling chat, didn’t you?”

“Eat faster, so you can leave faster,” she said, enunciating each word sharply.

The buzzing continued unabated.

Slowly licking the last trace of cranberry curd off my fork, I said, “Tell Ethan I send my regards.”

***

When Owen and I returned to our loft, a pacing Alijah awaited us in the foyer, chewing on his thumbnail.

Judging by how Joaquin was spread out across the sofa, half-asleep, Alijah had been at it for quite some time.

“What took you so long?” Alijah asked. His dark eyes zeroed in on the pie in my hand with blatant food envy. “And where did that gorgeous thing come from?”

Owen and I exchanged an amused glance and went our separate ways without answering. He headed toward his suite. I went to the kitchen, intending to find a permanent marker to write my name all over the lid of the pie container.