The warmth he left behind lingers along my spine, and shock rips through me.
Well. Shit.
That Evening
Autry
We spentall afternoon at the nesting shop, and I was in absolute heaven. Fabric swatches are draped everywhere—silks, cottons, velvets in every possible shade—while towering displays showcase nesting beds in every size, shape, and configuration imaginable. Pillows piled high like clouds surround us, and I touch at least a thousand of them, testing textures, densities, and scents.
Myrick and Oli chat nearby about life in general, Brock, Rhett, and Myrick’s decision to leave his job at the museum last year. Charlie and I slip into our own little world. He’s patient and sweet, letting me drag him from one display to the next. As a beta, I’m sure he couldn’t care less about slick-absorbent sheets, but he pretends to be completely fascinated, nodding along as if picking nesting fabrics is the most important decision of his life. It makes my chest warm and fluttery.
When we return to the apartment, I make dinner. Nothing fancy—pasta and a simple salad with what Myrickhad in the fridge—but cooking again feels good. I haven’t been in a kitchen in months and realize how much I miss it.
“That was amazing,” Oli says, rubbing his stomach like he’s one bite away from a food coma. “Any more and I’ll need to be rolled out of here.”
I laugh before I can stop myself, and he grins like he’s proud to have gotten it out of me. “I’m glad you like it,” I say, trying not to sound too pleased.
“Liked it?” he scoffs. “I haven’t eaten like that in weeks. I don’t even like salad, and I cleared the damn bowl.”
I smile, proud that he liked my cooking so much. I want to ask him what his favorite dishes are, but I’ve tried not to say too much to the alpha, out of respect for Rhett. I don’t think he’d be thrilled about me getting too friendly with the young alpha. “Well, I’m glad,” I say. “I love cooking. The kitchen is my happy place.”
“It really was fantastic,” Myrick adds, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin before setting it on his empty plate. “Sadly, I’m completely useless in the kitchen.”
Charlie snorts. “My version of cooking is pushing a few buttons on a microwave.”
“Same here,” Oli admits with a short laugh. “You two are lucky to have a gorgeous woman who’s also a wizard in the kitchen.” He freezes slightly—eyes going wide, smile tightening, like he’s realizing what he said. “I—I didn’t mean—like, women should cook or anything,” he stumbles over the words. “Just that...it’s nice, you know? When someone makes you a good meal.” He grimaces like he’s scared he offended me, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
“We are incredibly lucky,” Myrick says, slipping his hand across the table to gently cover mine. His eyes are soft and sweet as he looks at me.
My stomach flips at all the attention, and I duck my head, cheeks burning. “I’m glad you all liked it.”
Oli clears his throat roughly, then stands. “Well, I should head out.”
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Myrick offers, already standing with a satisfied sigh. I don’t know how long Myrick and Oli have known one another, but they seem like old friends.
“Grab the big dish,” I say to Charlie as I start clearing off the dining table. We carry the dishes into the kitchen together. I love this room. It’s all sleek, white cabinetry with golden hardware and polished white tile. It’s incredibly masculine, but in a curated, designer kind of way.
“This apartment’s deceptively big,” Charlie says, taking the plates from me and setting them in the sink.
“It really is,” I say. “Did Myrick give you the full tour?”
“Oh yeah,” he says, eyes wide like he can’t believe everything this place has. “Did he show you the gym behind that frosted glass wall?”
“Myrick offered to show me everything in there, but I only peeked inside,” I say with a shrug. “I’m not really into running. With my boobs, I need three sports bras to avoid knocking myself out.”
Charlie laughs, then shakes his head. “I still can’t believe the stuff they have here. There’s a sauna, a lap pool with one of those resistance currents, and—get this—an ice pod.” He makes a face, like it’s too absurd to take seriously. “The fanciest thing I had growing up was a lamp with a dimmer switch in the living room... and even that short-circuited.”
“An ice pod?” I wrinkle my nose. “What’s that?”
“It’s like... a chamber that drops your body temp. Cold therapy or something,” Charlie says.
An image of Rhett standing inside, icicles clinging to his lashes, pops into my head. I shiver at the thought. “Why would anyone willingly do that to themselves?”
Charlie shrugs. “Maybe it’s a really upscale way to ice your balls.”
I snort, laughing louder than I mean to, and he laughs too, the sound lighting something bright in my chest.
“Everything here is so over-the-top,” he whispers, leaning in like we’re sharing a secret. His gaze flicks to the gold faucet. “Even the fixtures look like they cost more than my car.”
