Page 21 of Pack End Game

"Thanks, that's uh, oddly specific." Spencer is still smiling, but his eyebrows furrow with a bit of confusion.

I'm nervous rambling like my friend Belle does. I'm usually way more charming than this, but today's events have knocked me off my A-game. I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together. Between the rambling and my outfit, they're going to start rethinking whether they really need an omega in their pack or not–fate and biology be damned.

"Enough about me." I give Zak my best flirty smile since he's the closest to me. "Tell me more about you all. How did you all meet?"

Zak surprises me by reaching out to take my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He seems to be a naturally calming presence, and I feel myself relax against the seat as our hands remain clasped together.

"Spencer and I played on rival football teams in college." Zak laughs under his breath.

"Really?"

He nods as Spencer grumbles from the front seat. "Just for one year. Spencer was the hotshot freshman quarterback that everyone was watching. I was a senior tight end about to go pro. I ran the winning touchdown in that game."

"And he'll never let me forget it," Spencer chimes in.

Freddie turns around in his seat with a beaming smile. "They tried to resist each other for a few more years, until they both happened to be at the same bar one Friday night when I went onstage to do my stand-up routine."

"You're a comedian?" That doesn't surprise me at all. Freddie clearly has a goofy personality, which makes me think he's always going to be great fun.

He shakes his head, not losing his smile at all. The movement causes the collar of his shirt to move just enough to reveal a bite mark on his neck. Betas can be bonded by alphas, just like omegas. It makes me curious where I can find the second one, and which alpha bit him where.

Another voice pulls me out of my wishful planning.

"Nope," Spencer answers for him. "The band took a short break, and Freddie jumped up and launched into this stand-up routine about why nachos should be considered a soup."

"Why should–"

Zak squeezes my hand in warning and shakes his head. "Don't get him started."

Freddie shrugs one shoulder and promises, "I'll tell you all about it later."

I have a feeling life with this pack is never, ever boring.

I stare out the car window with wide eyes as we pull up to a gated community that I didn't even know existed. The only person in my life who could even afford a place like this might be my boss, Quinn. And she still chooses to live in a tiny apartment close to the office.

I've dated some men with great careers and nice homes, but this is downright intimidating.

Spencer pauses at a black box to input a code that opens the gate ahead of us. "We can get you your own code first thing Monday morning when the office opens."

It takes me a second to realize he's talking to me.

They don't even know me yet, and he's ready to give me a code into their fancy-shmancy neighborhood? Wild. Why do I have the urge to toilet paper their house the next time they're busy at an away game?

I'm a menace. This must be why I feel so unbothered by Freddie locking me in a closet. The weirdest part of my brain understands him.

As we pull through the gate, a wave of discomfort falls over me. Something feels off suddenly, but I can't quite put my finger on where the feeling is coming from. I happily got in the car with these strangers, and I've been an enthusiastic participant in this weird situation so far, but I suddenly have the urge to run home with my metaphorical tail tucked between my legs.

"I just realized something," Zak interrupts my internal turmoil. "We never asked you what you do for work." He looks over at me expectantly, no idea the can of worms this question will open.

There hasn’t been much time for them to ask me anything, really, but I’m glad we’re getting the hard part out of the way.

Pun intended.

I turn my head toward the window again so I can hide my sly smile. The reactions are always mixed when I tell people what I do for work. Some people want to know all the details. Some people are more prudish and look at me like they'd like to run away from me the moment they hear my answer.

None of these guys seem like the type to scare easily.

"I sell sex," I announce proudly.