Page 16 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

LEAH

T he car is saturated with their scent. A heady mix of dark chocolate, citrus and woodsy notes, old books and rain, and sandalwood with a surprising crispness.

I press my forehead against the cool glass, fighting the wave of warmth that washes over me as their combined aroma fills my lungs, making it hard to breathe, harder still to process the events of last night.

He hasn’t spoken since we left their house.

Neither have I.

The silence is thick with everything we’re not saying.

Last night wasn’t pretend.

And neither is this.

My fingers tighten around my purse.

Caleb shifts gears, his forearm flexing. “I’m sorry about the floor thing.”

I blink. “The floor thing?”

“Sleeping outside your door.” His jaw works. “I was worried you might try to leave in the middle of the night.”

A laugh bubbles up, escaping from my throat. “Yeah, well. You still caught me trying to bolt at dawn.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I know.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “But I’d hoped you would stay until morning.”

“I did stay until morning,” I point out. “Technically.”

“You know what I mean.”

I do. He wanted me to wake up surrounded by them, to share breakfast without the awkwardness, to ease into the day together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like it wasn’t just a one-night stand.

A stoplight turns red. Caleb brakes, finally turning to look at me. The morning sun catches the gold in his green eyes, turning them translucent.

“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.

His fingers flex on the wheel. “Because I wanted you to see that it wasn’t just about last night.”

“Then what was it about?” I ask, my voice barely audible over the engine.

He glances at me, his green eyes intense. “I think you know.”

I do. And that’s what terrifies me.

The light changes. Caleb accelerates, his attention back on the road. But I can still feel the weight of that look, the promise in it.

Two days ago, I was just Leah Carter, bakery owner, single omega.

Now?

Now I don’t know what I am.

And Caleb Le Roux is driving me home like none of that matters.

Like I’m already his.

“Which building?” he asks as we turn onto my street.

“The red brick one,” I tell him, pointing. “With the fire escape on the side.”

He pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine but doesn’t immediately unlock the doors. For a moment, we sit in silence, the air between us thick with all the things we’re not saying.

“This is ridiculous,” I blurt out suddenly, unable to bear the tension a second longer.

Caleb’s eyebrows rise. “What is?”

“This,” I gesture vaguely between us. “All of it. This whole situation. I mean, what are we even doing? I barely know you! I barely know any of you!”

“You could get to know us,” he says simply.

“That’s not the point!” My voice rises with my frustration. “The point is that this isn’t normal. None of this is normal. We met two days ago under completely false pretenses, and now?—”

“False pretenses?” he interrupts, his expression sharpening.

Oh. Oh no.

I swallow hard, realizing what I’ve let slip. This is not how I wanted to do this. Not in his car, not while wearing Liam’s sweatpants and Mason’s shirt, not with the scent of his pack still clinging to my skin.

But it’s too late now.

“Caleb, I...” I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “I have to tell you something.”

His face smooths into that unreadable mask he wears so well. “I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t your real plus-one,” I confess in a rush. “I wasn’t the omega you hired. I was just there for my ex’s wedding, and when Jude mistook me for someone else, I... I went along with it.”

I wait for his anger, for the betrayal to flash across his face, for the coldness to enter his eyes. I brace myself for accusation, for hurt, for rejection.

Instead, he laughs.

Not a small chuckle, but a full, rich laugh that fills the car and makes the tension in my shoulders begin to dissolve despite my confusion.

I narrow my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s so funny?”

“Leah,” he says, his laughter fading to a warm smile, “we know.”

I blink at him. “You... know?”

“We’ve known since about five minutes after meeting you.”

“But... how? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugs, his eyes still dancing with amusement.

“At first, we were just curious to see how far you’d take it.

Our actual hire was supposed to be some omega named Olivia with a finance résumé and, according to her profile, an extensive knowledge of our business interests. You were clearly not her.”

My face burns with embarrassment. “Oh my God.”

“Then,” he continues, “we realized it was convenient for both of us. You needed a pack for the wedding. We needed an omega for networking opportunities. It worked out.”

My jaw drops. “So you just... went along with it?”

“Yes.”

“All of you?”

“All of us.”

The air rushes out of me. I sink lower in the seat, my gaze fixed on my apartment building. “I can’t believe you knew this whole time.”

“If it helps,” he offers, “we liked you better than we would have liked Olivia.”

A startled laugh escapes me. “How can you possibly know that?”

“Just a hunch,” he says, his eyes warm as they meet mine. “For one thing, I doubt Olivia would have stood up to your ex the way you did.”

“Eric,” I correct automatically.

“I prefer ‘your ex,’” Caleb says, a hint of growl entering his voice. “Or better yet, ‘that asshole.’”

Despite everything, I smile. “Fair enough.”

A silence falls between us again, but it’s different now—less tense, more contemplative.

“So where does that leave us?” I finally ask. “Now that all the cards are on the table?”

Caleb studies me for a long moment, his expression turning serious. “That depends on you.”

“On me?”

“Yes.” He shifts in his seat to face me more fully. “We’ve made our interest clear, I think. All four of us. The question is: what do you want, Leah?”

What do I want? It should be a simple question. I want to open my bakery. I want to prove Eric wrong about me being unable to succeed on my own. I want to finally stop worrying about being packless in a world that values pack bonds above almost everything else.

But do I want these four men? This intense, complicated pack that somehow makes me feel more myself than I’ve felt in years?

“I don’t know,” I admit softly. “This is all happening so fast.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But sometimes fast doesn’t mean wrong.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean right, either.”

“No,” he concedes. “It doesn’t.”

Another silence stretches between us. Outside, a couple walks past, hand in hand, oblivious to the emotional turmoil happening in the parked car just feet away.

“I’ll walk you up,” Caleb says finally, moving to open his door.

“You don’t have to?—”

“I want to,” he interrupts, his tone brooking no argument.

I sigh, recognizing the stubborn set of his jaw. “Fine.”

The walk to my third-floor apartment is silent, each step feeling heavier than the last. I’m acutely aware of Caleb behind me, his presence both comforting and unsettling at the same time. What’s worse, his dark chocolate is wrapping around me, making it hard to think clearly.

At my door, I fumble with my keys, hyperaware of him standing so close I can feel the heat of his body. The key finally slides home, and I turn to face him.

“Thank you,” I say, not sure what exactly I’m thanking him for. The ride? The revelation? The night before?

“For what?” he asks, as if reading my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I admit with a small laugh. “Everything? Nothing? I’m still processing.”

His lips quirk in that almost-smile that makes my heart do strange things. “Take your time.”

But as I turn to enter my apartment, his hand catches my wrist, gentle but firm. “Leah.”

I look back at him, caught by the intensity in his voice. “Yes?”

“I meant what I said before. Last night wasn’t just about sex for me. For any of us.”

His sincerity makes my chest tight. “Caleb?—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts gently. “Just... think about it. About us.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

His hand slides from my wrist to cup my face, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so intimidating. “May I?” he asks, his voice rough.

I know what he’s asking. I should say no. I should step back, close the door, and take the time I need to sort through this whirlwind of emotions.

Instead, I find myself nodding.

His lips meet mine in a kiss that’s nothing like the desperate, hungry ones we shared last night. This is soft, sweet, almost reverent. His thumb brushes my jaw as his mouth moves against mine, conveying without words all the things neither of us is ready to say.

For a moment, I let myself melt into it, my hands coming up to rest lightly on his chest. His heart thunders beneath my palm, strong and steady and reassuringly real.

But then reality crashes back in. This is too much, too fast, too overwhelming. I pull away abruptly, taking a step back.

“I can’t,” I whisper, hating the flash of hurt in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now.”

“I understand,” he says, though the tension in his jaw suggests otherwise.

“It’s not that I don’t...” I struggle to find the right words. “It’s just that I need time. To think.”

“Take all the time you need,” he says, voice still carefully neutral.

I nod, backing into my apartment. “I’ll... I’ll call you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promises, and the simple certainty in his voice makes my heart skip.

I close the door and lean against it, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall. Only when I hear the distant sound of the building’s front door closing do I allow myself to exhale.

Sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor, I pull my knees to my chest.

Silence.

Not the comfortable kind I’m used to. The kind that wraps around me like a well-worn sweater. This silence feels...wrong. Too thin. Like the air after a storm, charged with something I can’t name.

I breathe in.

My apartment smells like yeast and sugar—like home. But underneath it, clinging stubbornly to my skin:

Dark chocolate and espresso (Caleb, his hands framing my face as he kissed me breathless)

Citrus and woodsmoke (Jude, his laugh vibrating against my neck)

Old books and rain (Liam’s quiet voice murmuring praise)

Sandalwood and crisp autumn air (Mason’s steady hands guiding me)

I peel off Mason’s borrowed shirt like it’s burning me and put on clothes of my own. My leggings and oversized sweater should feel comforting, but the fabric itches. Nothing fits right.

Fernando, my sourdough starter, bubbles happily in its jar by the kitchen window. At least something in my life is predictable.

“You’re overproofed,” I tell him. “Just like me.”

My phone buzzes in my clutch. Then again. And again. Four texts in rapid succession.

With a sigh, I look at the screen.

Jude

Miss your face already, doll. Also your ass. But mostly your face. Come back? I’ll make heart-shaped pancakes.

Real hearts, not those weird lumpy ones they advertise on the package.

Liam

Let me know if you have questions about brewery partnerships for your bakery. I'm here.

Mason

Hydrate. Eat something. Call if you need anything. No expectations.

And Caleb—just Caleb, in that way he has of carving space in my chest with the fewest possible words:

Caleb

You forgot your other shoe.

A laugh punches out of me. Then another. Then I’m crying—ugly, hiccuping sobs that make Fernando’s bubbles pop in sympathy.

What is wrong with me?

I should block their numbers. Change my name. Move to another country.

Instead, I reply to them all:

I’m keeping the shirt.

Three dots appear immediately on Jude’s end. Then Liam’s. Then?—

My phone rings. Caleb’s name flashes across the screen.

I stare at it until the call goes to voicemail. Then, with trembling fingers, I text the group:

I need a day.

The responses come fast:

Jude

Take ten. We’re not going anywhere.

Liam

Understood.

Mason

Sent a thumbs-up emoji

Caleb

Tomorrow. 8 AM. I’m bringing coffee.

I throw my phone onto the couch like it’s on fire.

A shower. That’s what I need. A long, hot shower to wash away the evidence of the past forty-eight hours and help me think straight.

But as I stand under the steaming water, as I scrub away their physical scents, I know I’m kidding myself.

Because while I might be physically back in my apartment, my thoughts—and perhaps my heart—are still in that house with the pack that’s turned my world upside down in just two days.

And the most terrifying part?

I’m not sure I want it right-side up again.