“They’re refusing to leave.” Saramaria’s jaw tightens. “Something about tenancy rights and needing proper notice. Apparently, I can’t just kick them out overnight.”
“So what are you going to do?” I ask.
“New plan: I move into the main house regardless and wait them out.” Her tone brooks no argument. “It’s my property. If they want to live in the bunkhouse with the mice like stubborn assholes, fine. But I’m not staying away from my own home because they refuse to leave.”
And like the act of defiance lights a fire in the small Omega, her eyes burn with determination.
“They have no idea what I can do when I’m pissed off.” A fierce smile crosses her face. “But they won’t take away what’s mine.”
The vehemence in her tone makes it clear the subject is closed.
“Okay,” Josie says gently. “We hear you.”
Saramaria nods once, sharp and final, then takes another long drink of wine.
The rest of us exchange glances and then simultaneously burst into laughter at the absolutely evil grin on Saramaria’s face.
Dot shifts in her seat next to Pearl, their fingers automatically intertwining. “So, Willa. Spill. How’s it really going with the pack?”
All eyes turn to me, and I feel my face heat.
“I told Jake yesterday that I want to bond with them. With Pack McCrae.”
The room goes silent except for Buttercup’s snoring.
Then everyone starts talking at once.
“Finally!” Josie squeals.
“Knew it,” Baby mutters.
I feel a buzz in my pocket and pull my phone out to check. Like he can tell we’re talking about him, it’s a text from Charlie.
Charlie: See you tomorrow, beautiful.
THIRTY-SIX
charlie
“Shotgun!”Willa yells, lunging for the passenger door before Jake can beat her to it.
I grin, unlocking the doors. I’d texted her last night to make sure she’d be ready early, knowing we’d had this planned.
Willa buckles herself in.Beau slides into the back seat next to Jake, somehow managing to look dignified despite having to fold his massive frame into the smaller space. He catches my eye in the rearview mirror, and I see the amusement there even through his neutral expression. Next to him, Jake wears the most petulant look I've ever seen on a man. It’s way too funny not to tease him about it.
“You look ridiculous back there,” Willa says, twisting to look at him. “Like a giant sulking puppy.”
“I’m not sulking,” Jake mutters.
That’s definitely a pout,” I say, starting the engine.
“I don’t pout,” Jake says defiantly, crossing his arms in a very pout-esque manner.
“You’re pouting right now,” Beau points out.
“I’m expressing discontent through facial expressions.”
Willa laughs, bright and genuine. The sound fills the cab. “I haven’t gotten to sit next to Charlie yet,” she says as I pull outof the driveway and head toward the highway, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console. I’m itching to place it on her thigh.
