“Dad!” she hisses.
Ares just laughs, kissing her temple. “Give me about ten minutes to finish up with Miles, and we can get out of here.”
Carys nods then gestures to Billie. “This is Billie. She’s engaged to Paxton.”
Ares gives a warm smile, extending his hand. “Great to meet you. I hope you’re settling in well. We’re loving having Paxton here with us.”
Billie gives a polite answer, something I know she’s been practicing so she doesn’t come across as resistant to integrating here.
“I’m Marilyn. It’s wonderful having you.” Marilyn holds out her hand in greeting, and Billie gives a practiced smile in return. “I’m always a call away if you need anything at all.”
Billie murmurs, “Thank you.”
Carys leans closer to her, her hair falling over her shoulder. The movement stirs up the air immediately around her, and the smell of fresh orchids hits me.
My muscles lock as a primal need to have that scent all over me, tucked into the very fiber of my being, surges through my blood. My dick’s hard in an instant, my veins humming with sudden, overwhelming arousal. It takes everything in me to keep my breathing normal, level.
“Text me later this week, and we’ll grab lunch. And let me know when you want help getting everything organized,” Carys says. Then she pulls away from Billie and adjusts her bag, pulling out her phone with a frown. She purses her lips as she sighs, casting a quick look at Ares. “I’ll be outside.”
Before anyone can say much more than a quick acknowledgement, she’s striding out of the lobby doors, her phone pressed to her ears. I catch a vague, half-formed question about flowers of some kind before her voice is too soft to understand. Not that I would be able to process any of it. The electric pulse of need her scent created is still thrumming through me, more intense than any other time I’vebeen anywhere near a scenting Omega. Understanding washes through me, followed closely with disbelief.
What are the damn odds that the assistant coach’s daughter of my new hockey team is my scent match?
“We should get going,” Rhett says, pulling me from my panic. “Traffic’s going to be miserable getting into downtown.”
Billie squeezes my hand as we start toward the doors. It’s the only thing that keeps me from absolutely bolting. I need to find Carys and smell her again, need to make sure that this isn’t just some strange fluke of perfumes or… I don’t know, cross contamination or something from another Omega.
But I can’t do any of that. Iwon’t.
I tuck away the knowledge as I force my body to heel.
Then I lean over, kiss Billie’s temple, trace her engagement ring where it sits on her left hand, and head to dinner with my family.
Chapter Five
CARYS
I’m knee deep in sunflowers and lilies, my arms scratched to high heaven from ruscus and my fingers bleeding from floral wire, when the soft bells above my shop’s front door chime. I pause, my hands buried in the stems I’ve already tied together. Maybe it’s just the mail getting delivered or those vases I sourced for the welcome party on Friday. A quick signature and then back to all of this mess.
“Hello?” a feminine voice asks.
Damn it.
I tip my head back and breathe carefully through my nose. I’ve already had two breakdowns because of the last minute adjustments to this bride’s order for tomorrow. I cannot afford a third right now.
I raise my voice, trying to add a fraction of pep I don’t feel right now, and say, “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”
With more expedience than artistry, I attach the last section of greenery to the wreath and then drop the floral wire to the table before I can manage to pull even more blood. It takes me a minute to dig out the first aid kit my dad’s made me keep backhere when he’s gone on road games and then another to get the various punctures covered. Bleeding on customers is not a good business practice. Then, I readjust my claw clip and breathe deeply, letting my eyes flutter shut for a heartbeat. That calm place is hidden under too many layers of stress and exhaustion at the moment, but I plaster a happy-yet-grateful smile on my face anyway. My strides are mostly confident as I head into the small, cozy front room of the shop.
Billie stands beside the small table I use for client meetings, her arms crossed, her gaze taking in the entire room even as she frowns. She’s dressed in jeans and a dark brown sweater. The small bit of makeup she wears just makes her blue eyes look like ice, the perfect contrast to her black hair that falls in a straight waterfall down her back. The sight has an odd pressure forming under my sternum, like I’ve forgotten how to breathe. I smooth down my apron to try and dispel it.
Her gaze shoots to me. There’s an awkward half-minute where I contemplate shrinking into the walls as guilt rushes through me. That lunch date I promised nearly a week ago hasn’t happened. The last two texts she sent have gone unanswered, swallowed in the tide of overwhelming workload that this particular event has become. I’ve done a mess of a job getting her settled in with the team.
“Hi,” I manage, my voice cracking.
There’s another awkward lull of silence that has me wanting to crawl out of my skin. Words tumble out as I try to break the quiet.
“Oh my God, I swear I’m not ghosting you. This client just decided to add an entire wedding’s worth of flowers to her after party and so I’ve been in complete scramble mode for the last several days trying to get it all put together.”
