I’ve actually been plotting out my dream pack for months now, just waiting for the season to start, but I keep that slightly psychotic behavior to myself. There’s nothing wrong with knowing what you want and pursuing it. If anything, it’s my family’s fault for giving me the best home life ever and wanting to emulate it for myself.
“Suppressants, deodorizers, and you agree to meet the matchmaker? Then fine, you can keep your job,” my dad says, knowing if he doesn’t agree, he’s going to be metaphorically in the doghouse and physically on the couch.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, wrapping my arms around the larger-than-life man.
“I mean it. You don’t hold up the end of your deal, I don’t hold up mine.”
“Yes, Coach,” I say mockingly as I go around the table and hug each of my parents before I head to my apartment to get ready.
I round the corner of the kitchen and listen to their conversation before I leave, force of habit, I suppose. I was fascinated with pack life growing up and found myself wanting to know what my parents were up to.
“She flirts with all the players. I won’t fucking survive this season. I’m already going fucking gray, Rosemary,” my dad complains, and I cover my mouth with my hand to cover a laugh.
“Well, she’s our daughter,” my mother replies.
“Plus, she can flirt with whomever she wants. I’m sure the boys eat it up. If anything, Sloane could motivate them to play better. Who wouldn’t want to impress the coach's Omega daughter?” my mom chips in, and I shake my head.
God, I love that woman.
“You only have yourself to blame for giving her the job in the first place,” my dad says, calling him out on his shit.
“Henderson, you’re lucky I need to head off to work or else I’d…”
Yup, that’s my cue to get the hell out of here. I round the corner and leave the back door. My “apartment” is above the detached garage that my family doesn’t use, but I’m thankful for my own space. As soon as I turned eighteen, I needed some separation from my family. Not that I don’t love them dearly, but I’ve seen and heard too much, plus I needed my own private space.
Everything in my apartment is neatly put together and clean. I’m a little particular when it comes to my private space. That’s a lie. I’m pretty particular about almost everything in my life. I like things organized and looking a certain way, I don’t like a mess, and I like having control to a certain extent.
I think it’s why I lean into my Omega nature so much. I control what I can, and I let go of what I can’t. I know I need a pack, and I’m getting organized and working on that. I know I’ll go into heat within the year, and I also have multiple scenarios on how to handle that situation when it comes along.
I have needs, and I have a plan on getting them met as soon as possible. One of them is a very moody defenseman I haven’t stopped thinking about for months. I wonder what it’s going to be like when I finally get to scent him again, probably amazing. There might also be a Beta flying under the radar who has caught my attention.
The exhale that leaves me is draining as I pick out my outfit for the day. All of my clothes except my underwear and socks are hung up because I can’t stand wrinkles or the smell of clothes after they’ve been sitting in a drawer.
I don’t have to dress exceptionally nice for my job, but I always put in some effort, mostly because I have a defenseman to impress. My favorite color is green, and I grab the emerald green midi dress. It’s modest, the neckline covering mycollarbone and the sleeves hitting my elbows. I pair it with a pair of knee-high boots and top it with a black blazer and gold accessories.
Maybe I should have worn Foxes’ colors?
No, green is absolutely my color, and I stick with it as I gather up my briefcase. I already have my laptop ready to go and charged and multiple laminated files at the ready. I’ve memorized all the new players, their numbers, and their appearance so I can be professional.
Liz, the marketing manager for the team, will be impressed. She’s great at what she does, but she doesn’t truly understand a lot of the social media trends, and with each new app that pops up, I help her navigate that.
I also get a lot of face-to-face time with the team. It’s hard to deny that I undoubtedly have a thing for hockey players. I’ve grown up around hockey. When my dad played, I had small crushes on his teammates, and then when he started coaching, I grew crushes on his players. It’s hard not to; they’re just so big and violent but also total softies.
My father knows the monster he’s created, and it’s another reason he wants me to find a different job. Actually, I think if he had a choice, he would choose for me to not work at all. Honestly, I think I’d rather not work at all either. But this job puts me in close proximity to the most eligible pack members I can find, and I’m not letting that opportunity go.
Fuck the matchmaker.I’m making my own fate.
The team just finished their workouts and have moved to the conference room. It smells like the most delicious man-brothel I could imagine, but I school my face and don’t let the Alphapheromones distract me. Well, I mean as much as I can. I did wear deodorizers like I promised, and my panties are ultra absorbent in case I get a little too turned on. The suppressants… not so much.
As much as I may have ulterior motives for wanting this position, I still need to do a good job.
“Welcome, team. We’re coming off a cup win, which means everyone is going to have a microscope on us this year. I want to keep this momentum going. I know we have some major changes in our lineup, but we’re lucky to have Connery and Bandnin join us as coaching staff. They will be here for home games and practices,” my dad says.
The Alpha and Omega duo give a nod of agreement, and I can’t help but to smile at them. I’ve gotten closer to Piper in recent months, and I know they’re just the happiest little family. I want that for myself. If Owen could do it while winning a Stanley cup, I can certainly do it from the sidelines.
“There are other faces that are back with us this season.” My father goes down the line with the owners, coaching staff, training staff, equipment manager, marketing, and then finally gets to me.
“Many of you know my daughter, Sloane,” he says, pointing at me. “I won’t tolerate any disrespect or ungentlemanly behavior. Treat her like she’s your daughter too. There is an absolute no tolerance policy to violence or abuse of Omegas in this stadium, do you understand?”
