I take another long drink and mumble around the glass. “Beau… McCrea.”
“Like the Saint? That McCrea?” Her voice rises about ten octaves, loud enough that at least three regulars look our way with interest.
“Shhhh! And yes, that McCrea. Who else?”
“And you said Jake? Like Jake Dillon?” Baby lets out a low whistle. “Well, shit.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say, Willa? Congratulations on mixing saliva with one of the hottest Alphas in existence? Andone of the most desired and unbonded packs in three counties wants you? Because that’s what this sounds like.”
“That’s not—I don’t—” I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “This is a disaster. I work for APBRA. I have a contract. I can’t be involved with them.”
“Why not?”
I lift my head to stare at her. “Why not? Baby, are you serious right now? Professional boundaries. Conflict of interest. The fact that I’m supposed to be proving I can do this job without anyone questioning my credentials or my?—”
“Your what? Your Omega status?” Baby leans back, her expression cooling slightly. “Willa, granted I haven’t known you for long, but dude, since when have you given two fucks about what anyone thinks? Maybe it’s time you own that shit. It seems like maybe you should stop running from what you are.”
Her small, delicate finger boops my nose.
“I’m not running from—” I know I sound defensive.
“You are,” Baby interrupts gently. “And I get it. I do. But hiding behind professionalism and suppressants and this fortress you’ve built around yourself isn’t actually protecting you. It’s just making you miserable. Just saying.”
I stare, trying to find the energy to be mad at her. Sometimes her frankness is irritating in a loving way. But the truth of her words hits harder than the whiskey.
Before I can respond, the door opens, and Josie rushes in, her blonde hair slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed.
“I’m here! I’m here!” She slides onto the stool next to me, immediately wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “What happened? Are you okay? Do I need to hurt someone?”
The image of sweet, gentle Josie trying to hurt anyone is so ridiculous that I almost laugh. “I’m fine. I just… had a moment.”
“A moment?” Josie looks at Baby for clarification.
“She kissed Beau McCrea,” Baby supplies helpfully. “And discovered who Pack McCrea is, and that her Omega is a greedy slut for them.”
Josie’s eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh.” Then, unexpectedly, she grins. “That’s amazing!”
“It’s not amazing,” I protest. “It’s complicated and messy and?—”
“And exactly what you need,” Josie finishes, so matter-of-factly I’m momentarily lost for words. She takes the drink Baby offers her with a cat-that-got-the-cream kind of smile. “Phew, I thought there was an actual problem.”
“Did you not hear what she said? I basically lost my mind, dry-humped Beau McCrea in public at work, and only stopped because he had enough sense not to strip me down right there. Then Jake Dillon showed up. And to top it all off, I had the universe-altering realization that Charlie, Jake, and Beau are a fucking pack!” My voice rises to a volume that almost the whole bar can hear. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
I stare back at my drink. In truth, I’m really just mad at myself. Why didn’t I know? Honestly, if I’d kept in touch with Caleb or Charlie—even Josie, for that matter—I’d have known. But I didn’t. I left and didn’t fucking look back.
“Willa, you’ve been wound so tight since you got back. Maybe this is a good thing,” Josie says tentatively, looking at me sideways.
Baby nods, stepping away for a moment to refill someone’s drink before returning to our end of the bar. She leans her elbows on the polished wood, giving us her full attention even as she tracks the room with her peripheral vision.
“How is this a good thing? I’m an APBRA employee. I’m supposed to be professional, and even if they wanted me and we, you know—” I break off, my face heating.
“Know what?” Josie asks. I don’t even know. I can hardly make sense of the storm of emotions in me at this moment.
Baby leans forward across the bar, eyes gleaming. “Come on, don’t leave us hanging.”
“Fuck, I mean, even if I had the balls to be like, ‘Hey, maybe we should, you know, see if this goes anywhere,’ I can’t. My contract won’t let me,” I admit quietly.
