Page 6

I closed the door behind the ShipUS driver, turned, and leaned against it. A shuddering breath escaped as I tried to get my racing heart under control.

“What was that?” I asked myself as the truck drove off.

I shivered, and, when I moved to grab a jacket, saw gooseflesh covering my arms.

I closed my eyes, counted to three, then strode to the kitchen. I downed a glass of water and removed my glasses so that I could pinch the bridge of my nose. However, even after several seconds of massaging that place between my eyes, I still felt disjointed.

And why was I rocking a semi?

I took a deep breath, put back on my glasses, and returned to my office. I didn’t have time to waste on figuring it out. Proofs were waiting for my approval, and if I didn’t finalize the orders, there would be no way I could get things out before Christmas.

Hell, I was already cutting it far too close for comfort. Any other year, I’d have been in the middle of inspecting products and separating out any misprints or items damaged in shipping.

I plopped onto my office chair and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

“Love ya, Aunt Janice,” I grumbled. “But couldn’t you have waited until after the new year to give me this house?”

I sighed. I couldn’t put all the blame on her. I could have gone month-to-month in my apartment once my lease ended and kept working out of the second bedroom. But something within had insisted I move as soon as the paperwork was complete.

I sat up and picked up a sticky-note pad, then opened the PDF of the file on my computer. I compared where the art was placed and how the colors printed.

Satisfied with the print itself, I turned the pad over and noted the name brand on the back. Finally, I selected a few random spots in the pad to check the stickiness of the notes. They pulled cleanly, unlike off-brands that sometimes had weird glue.

Honestly, it was all expected. I’d worked with that printer for years and had never had issues. But it was good business to check anyway.

I set the sample aside and picked up the next one. I chuckled at the image of an octopus using its arms to make shadow puppets. I’d drawn it on a live art stream as something silly when nothing else had inspired me, and had never intended to turn it into a product. But my followers loved it and begged for at least a few products.

It was always exciting to hold my art in my hands for the first time—seeing how well my imagination had translated to something tangible.

Maybe that was why I’d been jittery all day? I’d specifically put aside the afternoon to review proofs. I’d never been anxious about it before, but it felt different.

First proofs in my new home? I wondered.

I finished reviewing the final two sticky-note pads, then looked around for the notebook samples.

It was only after a minute that I slapped my forehead. They had just been delivered and I’d left them by the door.

I righted my glasses and stood to retrieve the package. I was halfway there when the doorbell chimed.

“Coming,” I called.

A few seconds later, I opened the door to reveal yet another stunning alpha in a delivery uniform.

“I have a delivery for Mr. Planche,” he stated.

“That’s me,” I replied, forcing myself to keep from stuttering like I had with the first driver.

He handed over a small box that I recognized as coming from my sticker supplier.

“I see you also have a pickup scheduled?” he asked.

I blinked, then his words sank in. I scrambled for the boxes I’d set in my cubby for Deliveries R Us.

“Sorry about that,” I mumbled as I handed them over.

He laughed, a rich sound that made shivers run up my spine. “No problem. I’ve got in my notes that you’ll have pickups often. Any instructions I might have missed?”

I shook my head. “Nothing special, but I prefer to hand them over directly.”

He gave me a curt nod. “Got it.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that only about twenty minutes had passed since the other delivery. “May I ask a question?”

The deliveryman cocked his head. “Sure.”

“Do you and the ShipUS deliveries always come so close together?”

“You mean Slip? Yeah, our routes are almost identical, so it tends to work out that way.”

“Slip?”

“Oops… uh…” He scratched the back of his head. “So your regular ShipUs driver is Tripp, but I call him Slip.”

“Um…”

He laughed. “It’s all fun. He calls me Asshole.”

I gaped at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “My name’s Axel. Sounds pretty similar.”

“I don’t know if that makes it any better,” I argued.

“Uhhh…”

Why did it matter what my alphas called each other? Wait… My alphas???

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I stumbled back a half-step.

“Whoa, you ok?” Axel asked.

I sucked in a breath and righted myself. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”

He studied me as I forced myself to appear calm—rather than the ball of anxiety I’d suddenly become.

“Do you want me to call someone for you?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. I’m good.”

“O-kay,” he replied, unsure tone to his voice.

I forced a smile. “I’m fine. You can return to your route.”

His eyes remained on me for several more seconds. “Ok. See you next time.”

“Sure.”

He turned and walked off, and I immediately closed and locked the door behind him. Then I leaned against it and slid down to sit on the floor.

My alphas.

“My alphas…” I whispered, breathless.

My entire body shook as I tried to argue with my instincts, but no matter how much I tried to push the thought aside, I couldn’t.

I’d long suspected that I had a fated mate. But two? Was that possible?

My cock was hard as a rock, another sign that something inside me recognized the men I’d just met as my mates.

But… the overwhelming urge to fuck that I’d always heard about was absent.

And they knew each other. But was there any attraction between them?

What did it mean? Were both of them really my mates? Was I supposed to choose one?

What was I supposed to do?