“I wish I knew. He must be on suppressants. He has no scent to me.”
She looks at me over her shoulder, pale green eyes sparkling. “Ah, I know exactly what you need to do.” The woman grabs an amber glass jar and holds it up to me. “Custom candle. Scented from your pheromones. He’ll be able to smell it, and while he can’t scent match off of it, obviously, you’ll know if he at least finds your scent pleasant.”
The idea of him lighting a candle and fillinghis home or nest with my scent makes my heart soar, and I know this is what I was looking for. But I worry that everyone else has a personalized gift, and this is just a candle.
“What if he doesn’t like candles? What if he feels like it’s impersonal? Do I tell him it’s my scent? I shouldn’t, right?”
She rolls her eyes and pats me on the arm in a placating manner. “No, you don’t tell him. And pair the candle with a food or coffee he likes. I swear, you Alphas are hopeless sometimes.”
I try not to bristle at her insult, instead focusing on logistics. “I need to give it to him in two days.”
She huffs and pulls out an envelope from under her cart. “You’ll have to pay a rush fee, then.”
I take the envelope from her and open it, finding a pheromone sampling kit. I have to spit in a jar, and rub a special paper in my armpit, but I do it then and there, uncaring of if I look ridiculous. When I hand it over to her, she seals it, holds her hand out for my credit card, and gives me an ungodly expensive total.
I don’t mind paying it, though. Knowing if Felix likes my scent will be priceless.
EIGHT
EIGHT DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS
I love Christmas.The lights, the snow, the food. And I especially love Christmas shopping.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I love receiving gifts. What Omega doesn’t? There’s just something about knowing that someone thought of me enough to go out of their way and pick a gift out for me that makes me feel special. It doesn’t even matter what the gift is. Knowing that they thought about me is enough.
But the presents I buy have to be perfect. They need to be tailored to each person, personalized to show them just how much they mean to me.
I still have time to shop for my parents. They went to Aspen this year for the holiday, so I’ll be able to shop the after Christmas sales. They invited me and offered to cover the cost as a gift, but I couldn’t accept.
The idea of leaving Clara alone was enough to make me whine. There is no way I would’ve enjoyed the trip.
The hardest thing is figuring out what to get Clara. How do I say, “I want to be more than friends, but I know it’s not possible because what if our scents aren’t compatible, and youhate how I smell, and then I get my heart broken when you don’t want to be with me?” with a gift?
Somehow, that doesn’t feel like something that a sweater can communicate.
I could find someone who embroiders…
No, that’s ridiculous.
But is it?
I’m wandering through the stalls in the holiday market, stopping at any booth that catches my eye, when I bump shoulders with someone and go tumbling to the ground.
“Shit!” a familiar voice says, rushing to help me to my feet. “I’m so sorry.”
This is the second time I’ve hit the ground for Gabriel in two days. That has to be a record.
I push to my feet and turn around to face Gabriel, who looks like he’s going to crawl out of his skin, he’s that uncomfortable. “Felix. I … I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“It’s fine,” I say stiffly. I’m trying not to look at the bags he has in his hands and wonder who he’s shopping for. Jealousy that I shouldn’t have curls in my stomach.
He’s my boss. He’s my boss. I can’t go there with him, even if he wanted to.
Which I doubt he does.
“Could I get you a coffee or something? Make it up to you?” he asks, looking around and pointing when his eyes land on Brew-tiful Days.
I wish I could say yes. I want to say yes. But I don’t think I can spend any one-on-one time with Gabriel Hernandez. If I do, I may cave and tell him I have a crush on him, which would make things awkward at work. He may also notice that the scarf I am wearing today looks exactly like the one he lost yesterday.
