Page 100 of Pack End Game

Yep, I'll just keep nodding. The guys never need to know about this, and it'll help Trevor feel more gainfully employed. Everybody wins.

Trevor opens the folder to peruse the contents.

Inside is a carefully curated dossier on my boss, Quinn. There's a glossy photo of her from the company website, a bullet-point list of her best attributes, and pages of preferences on what she's looking for in a mate.

Of course, I'm the one who wrote the preferences down for her. She has no idea about any of this. She might murder me. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't fire me, though. I think she'd rather kill me than lose me as her marketing go-to gal.

"Your next assignment is going to be finding someone–or someones–for my boss."

He freezes mid-page flip. "Your boss?"

"Yep."

He looks back down. "This is the woman who started Nest & Knot."

"The very same."

"And does your boss know about this?"

I beam. "Nope. And it probably should stay that way, or she might threaten to rip your balls off your body. She's a total badass."

Trevor stares at me.

I stare back. I'm good at staring contests. It's a valuable skill in business when you're seated around a table with a bunch of men who think they know better than you. A ridiculous concept when the topic is female orgasms.

Finally, he says, "You're asking me to secretly look for scent-matches for your boss without her knowledge or permission."

"I'm asking you to keep your eyes open and exercise some initiative."

"Saying it like that doesn't really change my concern." Trevor glances at the folder again, his eyes drawn to the photo of Quinn.

"Don't worry too much." I pat his arm. "Sometimes fate just needs a little helping hand."

He gives me the most exhausted look imaginable. "That sounds like something a person might say right before everything goes catastrophically wrong."

"Or," I counter, "the thing I say right before everything goes delightfully right."

Trevor looks toward the field as if hoping football might save him from this conversation. He'll realize soon that I have no intention of letting this go. This feels like one of the best ideas I've ever had.

But my gaze moves toward the field, too, just in time to see my mates emerging from their tunnel, the team filtering onto the field to loud cheers that don't seem to faze any of them. My heart does that soft, swooping thing it's been doing ever since we bonded.

All three men turn to instantly look for me in the stands.

My breath catches.

I lift both arms and wave at all of them like the world's least subtle woman.

Trevor laughs under his breath. "That's sickeningly sweet."

"I know," I say dreamily.

Spencer heads toward midfield, broad shoulders straight and held with confidence. He's every inch the leader on the field that he is at home. I'm busy admiring him when I realize Simon isn't staying put where a mascot ought to stay put.

Oh no.

He's beelining straight toward me.

"Be prepared," I warn Trevor quickly.