Page 52 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

LEAH

J ude cheats at mini-golf with the precision of a master criminal.

“ Natural talent !” he declares, using his club to gently nudge my ball into the hole from three feet away. His grin is all wicked alpha charm as he plucks the ball out and hands it to me, fingers brushing mine just a second too long.

I swat his arm. “ You’re terrible at this. ”

“At golf?” He leans in until his citrus-and-woodsmoke scent drowns out the stale pond water. “ Absolutely . At admiring you?” His voice drops to a purr. “ Undefeated champion .”

I roll my eyes, but my pulse jumps when he produces a blue slushie from nowhere and presses the cold cup into my hand. “As Mason would say, hydration is key,” he murmurs, watching me take the first sip with those predator-bright eyes.

Then he ruins the moment by turning to the family at Hole 4 and stage-whispering: “Psst—kid. Wanna see a magic trick?”

Before I can stop him, Jude:

1. “Borrows” the dad’s club (“ Tactical acquisition ”)

2. Lines up three balls at once

3. Sinks them all in a single, physics-defying shot

The crowd gasps . The teenage employees start filming. The manager turns purple, glaring at Jude.

Jude bows like he’s accepting an Oscar, then tosses the club back to the stunned dad. “Worth it,” he tells me as he laces our fingers together and leads me toward the exit. “Did you see that eight-year-old’s face? I’ve made a core memory.”

I’m laughing despite myself. “I’ve said it many times, but you are ridiculous.”

Jude bows with theatrical flourish.

I can’t help laughing as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the exit. His enthusiasm is infectious, his joy in the moment so genuine that it’s impossible not to get caught up in it.

“I had plans for the next hole,” he says as we emerge into the parking lot. “I was going to spell your name in golf balls. It would have been very romantic.”

“And entirely against the rules,” I point out, still smiling despite myself.

“Rules are just suggestions with better marketing,” he says dismissively, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Now, I believe I promised you the Best Date Ever.”

He guides me to the car, opening the door and waiting for me to get in. “Onward to Plan B!”

I’m grinning now. Can’t help it. “Which is?”

“A surprise,” he says with a wink.

I know we’ve arrived before Jude even kills the engine.

The scent hits me first. Hops and malt and something deeper, richer, like oak barrels and spice.

The building is all industrial-chic brick and gleaming steel, with a massive lion’s-head logo painted above the entrance, its eyes glowing under the security lights.

“You…brought me to your brewery?” I breathe, craning my neck to take in the soaring ceilings as Jude unlocks the side door.

“Not just the brewery,” he murmurs, his hand finding mine in the dark. “Our second home.”

The word sends a shiver down my spine.

Inside, it’s even more breathtaking. The taproom is a cathedral of craft beer—polished concrete floors, exposed beams strung with Edison bulbs, and a bar made from a single slab of reclaimed oak that must be twenty feet long.

The walls are lined with awards and vintage beer signs, but what catches my eye are the personal touches:

A framed photo of all four of them, covered in mud after what looks like a barley harvest gone wrong

Mason’s painfully organized clipboard hanging by the taps.

Jude’s collection of ridiculous novelty mugs behind the bar.

Caleb’s battered leather jacket slung over a chair like he just left it there.

“Welcome to Le Roux After Dark,” Jude announces, flipping a switch.

The lights come up slowly, illuminating the space in a warm, golden glow.

“Where the beer is cold, the company is hot, and the entertainment is...” He produces a remote from some hidden compartment with a flourish. “...private karaoke.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You brought me here to sing karaoke?”

“Not just any karaoke,” he corrects, guiding me to a table that’s been set with candles and a small vase of wildflowers. “Private karaoke. With beer. And me, who has been told on multiple occasions that my rendition of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ can make grown alphas weep.”

“With laughter or emotion?” I ask dryly.

He clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, doll. Just for that, you’re going first.”

Before I can protest, he’s handing me a microphone and queuing up a song on the sound system. The opening notes of “I Will Survive” fill the taproom, and Jude’s expectant grin is so infectious that I find myself singing along despite my initial reluctance.

What follows is two hours of increasingly ridiculous duets, solo performances that range from heartfelt to deliberately terrible, and enough laughter to make my sides ache.

Jude, it turns out, actually does have a decent singing voice when he’s not intentionally butchering songs for comic effect.

His version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” is surprisingly tender, his eyes never leaving mine throughout the performance.

“Your turn,” he says afterward, handing me the microphone.

I scroll through the song options, feeling oddly vulnerable.

Singing in front of others has never been my thing—I’m more comfortable with the repeated steps of baking than the raw exposure of performance.

But something about Jude’s open enthusiasm, his complete lack of self-consciousness, makes me brave enough to select a song I’d never normally attempt in public.

The opening notes of “At Last” fill the room, and I close my eyes, letting the music wash over me. When I start to sing, my voice is quieter than Jude’s, less confident, but I find my footing as the song progresses. By the chorus, I’m lost in the melody, in the emotion of the lyrics.

When I open my eyes at the end, Jude is watching me with an expression I’ve never seen on his face before, all traces of his usual mischief gone.

“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head slightly as if coming out of a trance. “Just... you’re full of surprises, Leah Carter.”

Before I can respond, he’s crossing the space between us, taking the microphone from my hand and setting it aside. When his lips find mine, I nearly moan in his mouth. His kiss is all passion and playfulness, his hands cupping my face as he pours himself into the contact.

I melt into him, my hands finding purchase on his shoulders as he walks me backward until I bump against the edge of a table. In one smooth motion, he lifts me onto it, stepping between my legs without breaking the kiss.

“Been wanting to do that all night,” he murmurs against my lips when we finally break apart for air. “Actually, been wanting to do a lot more than that, but I promised Caleb I’d behave.”

The mention of their head alpha sends a shiver of anticipation through me. “And do you always keep your promises?”

His grin turns wicked. “Only the boring ones.”

Just as he leans in again, his phone buzzes insistently in his pocket. He groans, resting his forehead against mine. “I swear to god, if this is Liam asking about the fermentation logs again...”

When he checks the screen, his expression shifts to amused exasperation. “Mason, you psychic bastard,” he mutters, showing me the text:

Mason

Either you’re giving Leah a brewery tour (unlikely) or you’re about to violate at least three health codes. Move it along, Casanova.

I burst out laughing. “He knows you too well.”

Jude rolls his eyes and types back with exaggerated keystrokes:

We’re admiring the craftsmanship of your copper piping.

The reply is instant:

Liar. Get out before I send Caleb.

Jude pockets his phone with a dramatic sigh. “Our beta has zero respect for romance.”

I laugh, sliding off the table and straightening my clothes. “Rain check, then?”

He gives me a lopsided smile. “For now.”

The drive back is filled with Jude’s animated storytelling about the brewery’s early days. I laugh till my sides hurt. By the time we reach my apartment, I’m again reluctant for the date to end.

At my door, Jude brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “Mason’s up next,” he murmurs. “Prepare for spreadsheets of your favorite coffee orders and whatever other data he’s been quietly collecting.”

“And Caleb?” I can’t help asking.

Jude’s grin turns wolfish. “Oh, you’ll know when it’s Caleb’s turn.” His goodnight kiss is surprisingly chaste. Just a brush of lips that lingers just long enough to promise more. As he walks backward toward the elevator, he calls out: “Sweet dreams, omega. Try not to miss me too much.”

He waves, leaving me standing there with the phantom press of his lips still tingling against mine.

Two days later, after spending much time with the final touches of the bakery, Mason turns up.

He arrives at my door precisely on time, dressed in a dark sweater that makes his eyes look like liquid amber. The rolled papers under his arm catch my attention.

“For later,” he says before I can ask, that subtle half-smile playing at his lips. “I thought you might enjoy seeing the stars without light pollution.”

The simple statement sends warmth through my chest. This is Mason. The kind of man who notices what you need before you do.

Our first stop surprises me—a hidden farmers market in a converted warehouse, bursting with colors and scents I’ve never encountered. Mason moves through the space with quiet confidence, his hand occasionally brushing the small of my back to guide me toward something special.

“Try this,” he murmurs, offering a slice of peach glistening with honey. “The vendor keeps bees in her orchard. Notice the floral notes?”

The fruit bursts on my tongue, sweetness layered with something deeper. “How did you find this place?”

He tilts his head slightly. “You’re a baker, Leah. When I heard about this vendor’s process, I knew you’d appreciate it.”