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Now he definitely looks uncomfortable. "I, uh, I play hockey. Professionally."

"Oh." That explains the build. And the way he carries himself with that quiet athleticism. "Wow, that's impressive. What team?" When I realize that might be insulting, I quickly add, "I don't really follow sports."

He chuckles, relief evident in his expression. "I didn't think so."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good. Definitely good." He smiles, and my stomach does a little flip. "It's refreshing to talk to someone who doesn't already have opinions about me based on stats or highlight reels."

I try to imagine what that would be like, being known by strangers, having your performance publicly dissected. "That sounds exhausting."

"It can be." He shrugs those massive shoulders. "But I've been lucky. I play for the Grizzlies, which is?—"

"The Grizzlies?" I interrupt, a frog in my throat. "Wait, that's the team my brother-in-law is obsessed with. He's always trying to get tickets."

Darren's smile widens. "I can help with that. Would be happy to, actually."

"Oh, God, no," I say, remembering what he said earlier about the woman who only wanted tickets. Although I have a hard time imagining anyone looking at Darren and not seeing him as a better prize. "That's not?—"

"It would be my pleasure," he insists, grinning. "And if you're into it, I'd love for you to come to our next home game. I can set you up with VIP box seats. Bring whoever you want."

I blink, trying to process this unexpected offer. "That's incredibly generous."

"It's nothing." He waves it off, but I can tell my reaction pleases him. "Just perks of the job."

A thought occurs to me, and I hesitate. "I'm starting to think this app is a matchmaking service for famous people. Did I miss that part of the fine print?"

He looks genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

"It's just... I was looking through profiles before and swiped past one that claimed to be anonymous because they were 'super high-profile.'" I shake my head with a laugh. "And now my blind date turns out to be a famous hockey player. Seems like more than just a coincidence."

Darren sets down his fork, something changing in his expression. "Well, technically, your blind date was supposed to be with five famous hockey players, but my pack bailed. I'm sorry about that."

"So the rest of your pack isn't as on board with dating as you are?" I ask warily.

Of course this guy is too good to be true.

He sighs. "It's complicated. They're not sure about the whole online thing."

"I can understand that." Famous athletes probably have to be careful. People looking to exploit them or worse.

His smile returns, softer now. "I can't complain about the algorithm, though, if it gave me a second chance."

"A second chance?" I echo, confused.

“Yeah,” he says with a slightly sheepish grin. “That anonymous high-profile pack you swiped past? That was us. That was our profile.”

I feel heat rise to my cheeks as I realize I just admitted to rejecting him once already. But then something else clicks, a detail from that profile resurfacing in my memory.

Oh. Oh shit .

The pack with the recently presented omega.

The warmth that had been building in my chest all evening suddenly chills. Things had been going so well, too. I should have known there was a catch.

"What's wrong?" Darren asks, clearly noticing the shift in my demeanor. "Why does it feel like the temperature just dropped ten degrees?"

I hesitate, searching for the right words. "There must be some mistake with the matching system. I told the app I couldn't be matched with a pack that has an omega."

His face falls slightly. "Can I ask why?"

I grimace, hearing how it sounds out loud. "That sounded really bad, didn't it? I'm sorry. It's nothing against omegas, it's just..."

"Bad experience?" he offers, his understanding surprising me.

"Yes. Four of them, actually." I trace the rim of my wine glass, not meeting his eyes. "Four relationships, four men who eventually left me for packs that have omegas. Call me a little gun shy."

"Ouch." His grimace is sympathetic. "That's rough."

I give him an apologetic smile. "Look, you're insanely attractive and totally my type, even if I'm not sure about the whole famous sports pack thing.

Under any other circumstances, I'd be asking you back to my sweater-filled apartment, no hesitation, but I just got invited to my ex's mating ceremony and it's all still pretty raw. "

"He sent you an invitation ?" He raises his eyebrows. "To his mating ceremony ?"

"Complete with a photo of his new dog," I say flatly. "She's pretty cute."

"Damn, that's a dick move if I've ever heard one," he says, genuine anger flashing in his eyes on my behalf.

"Par for the course with Mark." I shrug, trying to seem more nonchalant than I feel. "I just don't think I can handle setting myself up for another heartbreak."

And it would be so easy for the man sitting across from me to break my heart. That thought remains unspoken, but it echoes loudly in my mind.

"Besides," I add, "it's pretty clear the rest of your pack isn't ready either. The last thing I want is to step on your omega's toes."

Darren gives me a rueful smile. "Well, the omega is actually the only one who's fully on board with all this."

"What?" I ask, confused.

He shifts in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "There's something I need to explain. Something I probably should've mentioned from the beginning, but I didn't know you'd specified no omegas, and then I got caught up talking to you and..."

He trails off, raking a hand through his hair again, that nervous and vulnerable gesture I'm already finding endearing despite myself.

"What is it?" I prod gently.

Darren meets my eyes directly. " I'm the omega, Lexie."

My wine glass freezes halfway to my lips. "You're... what?"

"I'm the omega," he repeats, his voice low but steady. "The one who recently presented."

I stare at him, sure I've misheard. This mountain of a man—this professional hockey player who exudes strength and confidence—can't possibly be an omega. It doesn't compute with everything I thought I knew about designation.

Holy shit. This can't be happening.

The first guy I've been genuinely attracted to in ages turns out to be the one thing I swore I couldn't handle.

Actually, no. Considering the way my dating life has been going, that makes perfect sense.