An alpha. An unbonded alpha. No marks on his neck that I can see, but maybe it’s somewhere else. My omega doesn’t seem to like that a bond mark may be somewhere else on him.
The man has wavy black hair that falls past his eyebrows and into his eyes a bit. Lightly tanned, he’s dressed in sweats and a t-shirt even though it’s winter.
Though it is Nashville, Tennessee, it doesn’t get too cold here. Not like it does back in Ohio. Another reason I don’t want to go back, I chuckle to myself, as if winters were a genuine part of why I left Ohio.
My attention goes back to the man on the floor. It’s like we’re at a standstill. Holding our breaths, I am at least. I’m sure with him being on the floor, he isn’t here to buy a blanket.
I’m the one to break the silence first. “Um, can I–” I can’t get the words out. My breath catches at his beauty and at the fact that I have a grown man hiding behind a display table.
“Don’t tell them I’m here.” Despite his words beingrushed, I can hear the deep sotto voice. It’s calm, and for once, while talking to an obvious alpha, I am… calm. My face still heats as he talks to me, but my skin isn’t as tight as it was, not as itchy.
“Tell who?” I whisper. I can’t help but match his voice, and I almost bend down beside him.
“Them.” He points outside to the disappearing crowd, and it clicks. He must be a hockey player. Hiding from his fans. In my blanket shop.
“So you’re not here to buy a blanket?” I question, even though I obviously know he’s not here to buy a blanket.
His gaze moves to take in my store. I watch him, my earlier flush weighing down my confidence even more. I yearn for his approval. Not surprising since I always long for everyone’s approval, but he feels different. In my gut, I want his approval more than the average customer.
Is it because he works so close to me? As in, in the hockey stadium. I bet one social media post from him would set my business straight for at least a year. Not that I’m not doing well already; actually, I’m doing more than well, as I’m currently drawing in orders.
But publicity also means… also means people finding me, and there’s a particular Pack I can’t risk finding me or my little shop.
Maybe it’s better if no one knows he’s here.
“Is this a blanket shop?” he asks and then shakes hishead. I hoped it was apparent with the insane amount of blankets everywhere. From display tables to ladders filled with blankets, I hoped the shop would scream, buy blankets here. “No, don’t answer that; I’m here to get samples.”
Samples? Oh my god, samples. They sent a hockey player to get samples?
I’d emailed the Scented Scorpions PR team to see if we could collaborate and get a license to make team-themed blankets for the hockey fans who come in.
They emailed me back months later asking for samples. I thought they’d ghosted me. I mean, with their recent success, I’m sure it was accidental, but none of that matters because they still got back to me.
“Oh, yes!” I say, turning on my heel. “Let me get those for you.” My mind zeros in as I run to my office, my heels clacking against the tile floor as I grab the three blankets I’d prepared. One a granny square crochet blanket with a mini team jersey in half the squares and plain white for the others. I also made two quilted versions. One giant quilt with the team logo big across the back, and then one puff-style quilt with mini logos.
“It’s a big box. Do you want me to carry it for you, or–” I say, beginning to ramble as I hand him the box.
“I got it, Peach Puff,” he says, and I freeze. So does he. His hands landed on mine, and it became extremelydifficult to let go. “I’m-I’m sorry.” He scowls as he moves his hands and the box away from me.
“You can smell me?” I ask, scrunching my eyebrows. He shouldn’t. Not with the hundreds of dollars of scent blockers I have in the room. How? Why?
“A little.” He says, his skin turning red as the silence between us grows. Oh no, I’m making this awkward.
“It’s just that I have scent blockers–”
“I can smell those too, but… your scent is strong, and sour,” he says, trailing off.
“Oh, right,” I say, letting go of the box. My hands instantly go to cradle my neck, trying to get myself to calm down. Of course I didn’t get the highest grade scent blockers, but still, they should… they should have held out.
“Do you have a really good nose by chance?” I ask, hoping I didn’t get defective blockers. For the price I paid, I’d have to say something, and I really don’t want to do that. I hate confrontation.
“Not that I know of.” He says, the corner of his lips tilting up in a smile. It makes me want to smile, too, which is odd. It’s not a feeling I’ve ever had before. “Can you smell me?”
I stop and breathe in. His scent is faint under the blockers, but I can smell the cherry. “You have a fruity smell too?”
Fruit and … alpha. He’s an alpha, which I could assume from his stature, but—I step away, trying to find something else to smell. Pure cherry filled my senses, and I absentmindedly stepped closer again. Not fucking thinking. It’s warm yet refreshing.
I’m supposed to stay away from alphas, not wanting to drag them into a mess they can’t handle in case my old Pack ever finds me. And yet I inhale, hoping like hell I can get another whiff.
