Page 51

Chapter

Thirty-One

LEXIE

I unlock the door to my apartment, struggling with the key as I juggle my laptop bag, coffee, and a stack of mail.

Three days back in the real world after my weekend with the pack, and I'm still finding it hard to focus on mundane tasks.

My mind keeps drifting back to candlelit dinners, laughter-filled conversations, and five pairs of hands learning every inch of my body.

Focus, Lexie.

My living room, already crowded with inventory and shipping supplies, now resembles a high-end flower shop.

Bouquets of every size and description occupy every available surface.

Roses in deep crimson and pale pink, exotic orchids in vibrant purples, sunflowers the size of dinner plates, and lilies giving off a scent so strong I can taste it.

I set my things down on the only clear spot left on my coffee table and pick up a card from the nearest arrangement I brought in earlier since I didn't have time to glance at it after bringing it in. It's a stunning collection of deep, dark blue hydrangeas and white roses.

Lexie, these reminded me of your eyes when you laugh. See you Friday. —Jax

My eyes? They're brown, not blue.

But then I remember how he looked at me in his bedroom when it was just the two of us, his fingers gently memorizing my skin as we talked about nothing and everything. "They change color," he'd murmured. "Brown with flecks of amber in the sun, almost like the night sky in certain light."

He noticed that. Remembered it.

I move to the next arrangement, a wild, untamed collection of native wildflowers that somehow looks both chaotic and perfectly composed.

Can't wait to see you again soon, wild thing. —Z

A smile tugs at my lips. Of course Zayn would send something unconventional.

The doorbell rings, startling me out of my thoughts. Must be Jessica. We'd planned to spend the afternoon packing orders and catching up. I navigate the botanical obstacle course to reach the door.

Instead of my sister, I find a delivery man holding yet another arrangement, this one a massive basket of cookies, chocolates, and other artisan sweets, even though I haven't even made it a quarter of the way through the homemade ones Aidan sent over.

"Delivery for Lexie Goodwin?" he says, already looking tired. "Where do you want it?"

I glance behind me at my apartment, already bursting with flowers. "Honestly? Anywhere at this point."

He gives me a sympathetic look. "Anniversary?"

"No," I say, taking the enormous basket. "It's... complicated."

"Must be," he mutters, handing me a clipboard to sign. "This is my third trip here today."

I manage to find space for the new arrival on my dining table, displacing a stack of sweaters that now join their brethren on the floor. The card reads:

I'm a hazard in the kitchen, but I didn't want Aidan to be the only one sending you sweets. Can't wait to taste you again. —Dmitri

My face warms up. Definitely glad the delivery guy didn't see the note.

I hope.

Before I can process this, my phone chimes with a text from Jessica.

JESSICA: Running 10 min late. Adam ate a crayon. Be there soon!

I text back a quick acknowledgment, then take another bewildered look around my apartment. Nearly ever surface is covered in gifts from the pack. Little signs throughout the week that they're thinking of me.

I can't help but have a flashback to my last anniversary with Mark.

I'd been searching months for his gift. A vintage camera he'd been lusting after for years, but could never find.

When I finally saw one come up on one of the thrift shop sites I had constantly loaded in my browser tabs, I drove an hour just to get it only to come back and hear him talking shit about me to his best friend.

"Wait, I thought you guys were getting married," Paul had said as I quietly shut the door, having seen the car in the driveway and not wanting to interrupt.

His words stopped me in my tracks, though, and Mark's reply? It gutted me.

"We were, it's just… you know how it is," he'd said in that dismissive, slightly slurred voice that made it clear he'd had a few too many already. Just enough to loosen his tongue so the truth could dance off it. "She's just a beta. She's so… boring."

Paul's laugh was awkward. Nervous. "But you're a beta…"

"Yeah, but I want a pack. She doesn't," Mark had argued, as if he'd had this conversation a thousand times before in his head. "She refuses. Honestly, it's pathetic she thinks she'd ever be enough for me. For anyone."

"Damn, man, that's kind of harsh," Paul had said while my world was falling apart, pieces of me drifting into space. A part of me was convinced I was dreaming.

"Yeah, well, it's the truth," was Mark's callous response. "Besides, omegas are so much better in bed. So naturally submissive. That's not something she could ever give me."

And just like that, the final pieces of a heart holding together with glue shattered all over again.

I wished I could say I left that night, but I didn't. Maybe a part of me didn't want to believe it.

A part of me was grasping at straws, hoping maybe Mark was just drunk, talking shit he didn't mean to impress his friend.

As if that would make it better.

Finding him in bed with the omega who was so much better than I was, according to him, brought me down to reality. It was a crushing blow, but at least there was no longer any doubt.

The ache in my chest isn't as intense as it used to be as my focus comes back to the present and I find myself wondering if it has something to do with the pack that's surrounded me with physical reminders of their intentions, even when we're apart.

And there, half-hidden behind a particularly exuberant arrangement of lilies, is a stuffed animal. Not just any stuffed animal, but a bear wearing a tiny Grizzlies jersey with Darren's number on it. I pick it up, noticing the card tucked under its arm.

Something to cuddle you until I can. Miss you. —D

"Miss you too," I whisper to the empty apartment, hugging the bear against my chest.

This is ridiculous. It's been three days. Three days since I left their mansion with promises to see them soon, with the taste of them still on my lips and the ache of their touch still in my muscles. Three days of near-constant texts, calls, and floral invasions.

I should be overwhelmed. Smothered. Running for the hills.

Instead, I'm fighting a giddy smile as I arrange the bear on my couch with the throw pillows, making sure it has a good view of the apartment.

The doorbell rings again, and this time it is Jessica, her eyes widening comically as she steps inside.

"Holy shit," she says, spinning in a slow circle. "Did a florist's shop throw up in here? And a bakery?"

"Pretty much," I admit, moving a vase of tulips so she can set down her purse. "This is what happens when you're being courted by five different men, each with his own idea of romance."

"Courted," she repeats, a grin spreading across her face. "Listen to you, Miss Jane Austen."

"Shut up," I say affectionately. "Help me find space for these shipping boxes before I drown in pollen."

Jessica picks her way through the floral labyrinth, examining the offerings with undisguised curiosity. She pauses at a particularly elaborate arrangement of exotic orchids. "Well, they all have good ideas, I'll give them that." She peers at the card. "Who's 'Z'?"

"Zayn," I explain, clearing a space on the dining table. "The one with the dark eyes who looks like he could either seduce you or murder you, and you'd thank him either way."

She snorts. "That tracks." Her eyes fall on the bakery box. "Please tell me those are edible and not some weird flower-shaped pastry thing."

"Very edible," I confirm. "Aidan baked them himself. The goalie."

"The cute one with the freckles?" She's already opening the box, eyeing the contents with naked desire. "Damn, girl. He can bake too?"

"You have no idea," I say, remembering his cinnamon rolls, still warm from the oven. "Help yourself. I'm going to need a bigger apartment at this rate."

"I volunteer as tribute to help eat the food," Jessica says solemnly, already biting into a chocolate croissant. "Oh my god," she moans, eyes closing in bliss. "I think I just had a tiny orgasm."

"Seems to be going around," I mutter, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

Jessica's eyes snap open, zeroing in on me with laser focus. "Alexandra Marie Goodwin," she says, using my full name like she always does when she's about to interrogate me. "You have not told me nearly enough about last weekend."

I busy myself with the shipping labels, avoiding her gaze. "We had a nice time. They're very... attentive."

"Attentive," she repeats flatly. "That's the word you're going with? Because I seem to recall you saying you couldn't go out to coffee Monday because you couldn't walk, and we both know why that is."

I can't help the laugh that bursts out of me. "You're terrible."

"I'm right," she counters, taking another bite of pastry. "So, what's next? When are you seeing them again?"

I sit down on the couch, moving aside a vase of daisies to make room. "Friday night I'm going to their place for the weekend. But I'm also going on individual dates with each of them over the next couple of weeks."

Jessica raises an eyebrow. "Getting to know them one-on-one? Smart."

"That's the idea," I agree. "They're all so different. I want to understand who they are individually, not just as a pack."

"And when's the next big hockey trip?" she asks, reaching for another pastry. "Luke mentioned something about Vancouver?"

"Two weeks away," I confirm, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in my stomach. "They've invited me to go with them. I think I'm ready. I want to get to know them better, see what they're like in their professional environment."

"You'll be a busy girl," Jessica observes, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "Five men, a business to run, road trips... you sure you can handle all that?"

"I'm already in talks to hire someone to help with the business," I admit.

"I can definitely afford it, now that sales are booming.

A part-time assistant to handle shipping and customer service.

I've been needing to do it for a while anyway.

Just a matter of finding a decent place that's actually available in this market. "

"Look at you, expanding the empire," Jessica says, pride evident in her voice. "Mom and Dad are going to flip when they find out about..." she waves her hand to encompass the flower-filled apartment, "all of this."

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "I haven't even thought about how to explain this to them."

"Just introduce them one at a time," Jessica suggests, grinning. I'm not surprised she's taking this all in stride. "Start with Darren, then maybe six months later, 'Oh, by the way, I'm also dating his entire pack now.' It'll be the scandal of the HOA."

"You're not helping," I mutter, but I'm smiling despite myself.

My phone chimes with a new text. I glance at the screen to see Zayn's name.

ZAYN: Did you get the flowers?

Jessica peers over my shoulder. "Is that one of your boy toys?"

"They're not boy toys," I protest, but I can feel the blush spreading across my cheeks. "And yes, it's Zayn."

I snap a quick picture of my flower-filled living room and send it to him.

LEXIE: Yes, and then some. I barely have room for sweaters anymore.

ZAYN: Oops. Well, our next present might fix that. Can you meet us tomorrow morning downtown?

I stare at the message, equal parts intrigued and wary. "What are they doing now?" I mutter.

"What's up?" Jessica asks, peering at my phone again.

"They want me to meet them downtown tomorrow morning," I explain. "Apparently they have another present that might 'fix' my space issues."

Jessica's eyes widen. "Holy shit, are they buying you a bigger apartment?"

"What? No," I say automatically, but then hesitate. They wouldn't do that, would they? "No," I repeat more firmly. "That would be insane."

"You're dating five professional hockey players who are all obsessed with you," Jessica points out. "I think we left 'sane' behind a while ago."

She has a point.

I text him back.

LEXIE: What are you up to? But yes, I can meet you. Where and when?

ZAYN: 10 AM. I'll text you the address tomorrow.

I notice he doesn't respond to my other question. He's definitely up to something.

"Maybe they're taking you shopping for storage boxes," Jessica suggests, glancing around at my crowded apartment. "Not very romantic, but you could use it."

I laugh. "Guess I'll find out tomorrow."