“It’s what he does.” I glance at them getting into his silver sedan, my lungs so tight I can barely draw breath. I hate how much he still impacts me.
“Thank God you’re not with him anymore,” Trudy says, shaking her head.
My name is suddenly called at the coffee stand. Trudy and I collect the cups, and we climb the slope toward the benches. I glance back, and Louis’s car is already pulling out of the lot because of course he drops the grenade and runs before my Alphas could skin him alive.
But the shrapnel stays, the damage done.
I settle between Corey and Brody, their arms finding me, sipping from their coffees. I don’t tell them about Louis, not yet, as there’s nothing to do, so why spoil the moment? On the field, Jakob flattens a player twice his size, and the crowd cheers. I grip my coffee and draw its warmth into the cold space behind my ribs where Louis’s words are already burrowing.
25
JAKOB
“Quick one today. Messy and fun. The algorithm will eat it up. And let’s get it done before Corey and Trudy return from town. Guessing her errand might take them over an hour or so.” Brody fills the studio doorway, barefoot, wearing jeans and an apron, already buzzing with that restless performance energy he runs on. His hair is pushed back, still damp from the shower, and he’s chewing something, crumbs at the corner of his mouth.
“If Claire’s ready, let’s go,” I say, adjusting the gain on monitor two. “I want to get the edit turned around by tonight. Need to find the right track for it.”
“Something upbeat. Kitchen energy.”
“I know what works.” I’ve scored almost every video he’s made for years. The right song is the difference between a video that gets shared and one that gets worshipped. I’ve got a shortlist already, as I’m thinking something with a bass drop right when Damien inevitably knocks a spoon off the counter. Timing is everything.
Brody wanders into the room and drops onto the stool beside me. Both of us are staring at the monitors. Two cameras and angles, and on both screens, Claire.
She’s alone in our kitchen, leaning against the counter near the sink, her fingers tracing the granite edge. Pink sundress. White apron tied at the waist. Hair loose around her shoulders, bright from the light every time she shifts. Her glasses are perched on her nose, looking fucking adorable. She’s staring up through the window toward her house.
“What do you think she’s thinking?” Brody asks.
“Probably how much of her place we can see from here.”
“Maybe she’s planning something.” He leans back, arms behind his head. “Strip show in her living room, seeing as she owes us a show after giving Corey one. All three of us pressed against the glass, tongues on the floor.”
“You want to film a cooking video with a hard-on, be my guest.”
He chuckles out loud, slapping a hand to my shoulder. “Can’t help it. I’m so far gone for her, man.”
“Aren’t we all? And tonight, she’s mine,” I state flatly. “I’m staying at her place.”
His grin flatlines. “Jury’s still out.”
“No, it isn’t. We’ve been stuck here babysitting while you’ve been in her bed. My turn.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He shoves off the stool and heads for the door. “We’ll see.”
“It’s decided, Brody.”
But he’s vanished down the hall, his footsteps quickening to a jog, eager to get back to her, and I shake my head. That man would sprint through a wall if Claire was on the other side. Subtle as a sledgehammer.
I turn back to the screens. Claire’s still at the counter, leaning slightly forward, and camera two catches the curve of her waist, the fabric pulling across her hips. My pulse deepens as my gaze lowers to that curvy ass and the fabric inching up her thighs.
She’s mine tonight. And I want to raise something with her that I’ve been turning over in my head since her heat.
Her thoughts on an Alpha mark, an imprint for us that she belongs to this pack and only this pack so she knows we are dedicated to her. The kind that would put Louis’s poison to rest for good.
I’ve got my attention refocused on the screen. Brody appears on monitor one, sliding into the kitchen. Claire turns toward him instantly, that involuntary brightness across her face she gets at seeing Brody now. Her shoulders drop, chin lifts, and her lips part around a grin she doesn’t seem to know she’s giving.
Does she do that for me? I’d need to see us together on-screen to be sure, but my gut says,Fuck yes, she does. It’s there in the way her gaze finds my mouth when I’m talking. How she often leans into my scent without realizing she’s doing it.
Brody props her cookbook on the back corner of the counter, just on a casual angle, the cover facing camera two, title visible. Good man. Whatever it takes to get that book trending again.