We abandon our lattes and rush outside.
The town square feels different now. More eyes. More attention. A teenager across the street takes photos. Two women near the fountain point and whisper. My chest tightens watching Harmony shrink into herself, trying to disappear behind sunglasses.
"My driver’s on speed dial. He’ll be here in a flash.” Harmony's hands shake pulling her sunglasses down. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have come."
"Don't apologize." I hug her tight, feeling her tremble. "Thank you for being here. For checking on me."
She hugs back fierce and desperate. "You've got something good, Jessica. Don't let anyone take it from you."
"I won't."
Stacey wraps us both in her arms. "Group hug! Everyone cry!"
"I'm not crying," Harmony mutters, but her voice betrays her.
We separate. Harmony starts walking quickly toward her car. She's halfway there when a truck pulls up. Three alphas lean out the window.
"Harmony Blake! Can we get your autograph?"
She breaks into a jog.
"Jesus Christ." Nacho pulls out his phone. "I'm calling backup. She's going to get swarmed."
More vehicles arrive. Word spreads at the speed of small-town gossip, faster than light, powered by boredom and the thrill of something exciting finally happening.
Harmony reaches her car. My heart clenches watching her panic, knowing exactly how that feels. Being hunted. Exposed. Unable to escape the eyes dissecting your every move.
Her driver is outside holding the door for her, then she throws herself inside.
Harmony's car peels out, narrowly missing a pickup truck. It speeds down the street going at least twenty over. Nacho wisely pretends not to notice.
"Well." Stacey watches the car disappear around the corner. "That was dramatic."
“More like a disaster," I correct.
"Little bit of both." She links her arm through mine. "Come on. Let's salvage this day. Show me this town. Let me embarrass you in public."
"That's your life mission, isn't it?"
"Someone has to keep you humble."
Nacho drives us back to the house, shaking his head the entire way. When we pull into the driveway, all three of my otheralphas are waiting on the porch, alerted by some kind of pack telepathy.
"Heard there was excitement in town," Carlos drawls.
"Harmony got recognized. There was almost a riot." I climb out of the cruiser. "She's fine. She escaped."
"Escaped what?" Sergio's eyebrows rise.
"Approximately thirty alphas who wanted her autograph. And possibly to court her. It was unclear."
Pedro shakes his head. "That's why I don't go to town."
Stacey bounces up the porch steps. "So what are we doing today? Let's make it count."
Carlos grins. "I know exactly what we're doing."
Two hours later, we're at the Irish bar, which does indeed look like it hasn't been updated since 1987. Wood paneling. Neon beer signs. A jukebox playing country music. And a pool table where Stacey is currently destroying Carlos at eight-ball.
