“What about a motorcycle?” she asked.
I tried not to acknowledge my flicker of panic at the idea of my pack’s omega crashing a motorcycle and ending up as a gory red smear on the pavement. For one thing, it was hypocritical, since Heath had owned a motorcycle when I’d first met him, and I’d never fretted randomly about him getting hurt on it.
Was this the much-vaunted alpha protective instinct rearing its head? Jesus, what a pain in the ass.
“If that’s what you want,” I made myself say. “Although I’d suggest a car as well—winter in Chicago is no joke.” I realizedI was talking to a woman who’d lived as an unhoused person for years, and mentally cursed myself. “Which, of course, you already knew.”
She gave a sharp little laugh and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Right. A motorcycleanda car. Why not?”
“The other thing I’d hoped to discuss with you is a bit more of a sensitive subject,” I said, not wanting to get bogged down in a discussion of what she did and didn’t deserve to own as a part of this pack. “Gage mentioned that you’re an avid reader?”
Pink flushed her pale cheeks. “It was always a way to escape for a few hours,” she said. “And libraries are safe places to spend time.”
Gage had passed that tidbit on as well.
“Makes sense,” I told her. “Again, I’m making an assumption here—but I’m guessing you don’t have a high school diploma or GED?”
“No,” she said in a wry tone. “Obviously not.”
“We can remedy that if you’d like,” I replied. “Along with any university-level studies you might want to pursue eventually. I only mention it so you’re aware it’s an option.”
“Really?” She seemed genuinely shocked, as though the possibility of getting a formal education had never occurred to her.
“Really,” I confirmed. “There’s no pressure... it’s just something to think about.”
She chewed her lip for a moment before letting it pop free. I wasn’t proud of the way my eyes fixated on that small movement of the tender pink flesh.
“I will,” she said. “Thank you, Knox.”
I managed a grim little smile for her. “Don’t thank me until after you’ve crammed for a final exam at four in the morning,” I told her.
Obviously, the smart thing would have been to pawn the details off on Heath, since Gage was out of action for the foreseeable future. And yet, that same afternoon, I found myself saying, “I need to make a quick trip to the office to sign some papers. Jez, if you’d like to come, we can set up those driving lessons on the way back.”
I didn’t miss Heath’s double-take... or the way Jez’s expression shuttered across a look of surprise.
“Um... okay?” she said. “Give me five minutes to get ready.”
Bud picked us up in the limo without comment, and I watched Jez watching the city as we drove. After a few minutes, she turned with a faint half-smile.
“You know it’s probably weird to show up to driving lessons in the back of a limo, right?”
I raised an eyebrow, falling into the banter despite myself. “Is it, though? I mean, it’s not as though you could drive yourself there before you get a learner’s permit, at the very least.”
God, this would be easier in so many ways if I wasn’t coming to genuinely like this omega as a person.
We stopped by my office and I signed the things that needed to be signed, but didn’t linger afterward. Then Bud drove us to the best-rated driving school in the area. Inside, Jez looked around with interest as we were escorted to a registration desk occupied by a red-haired beta woman in her mid-thirties.
She smiled and batted her eyelashes, rising and gesturing toward a pair of chairs in front of the desk. I waited for Jez to sit before taking the other one.
“Good afternoon,” said the woman, casting a quick gaze over Jez before refocusing on me. “My name is Francine, and it’s my pleasure to assist you today. Are you wanting driving lessons for your... daughter?”
Jez, whose loose ponytail and baggy jeans did make her look young—but notthatyoung—snorted.
“Not my daughter,” I said in a tone that hopefully discouraged additional questions. “But, yes, Jessica here is indeed seeking lessons.”
“Do you do motorcycle lessons, too?” Jez asked.
“We do,” Francine replied, before once more visibly dismissing Jez in favor of addressing me. She caressed a long, red curl between two manicured fingers, stretching it out and letting it bounce back. “Here. Let me show you our various... packages.”
