Page 34 of Pack End Game

Some of us have better taste than others.

My comment about sex passes with less acknowledgment than I would expect. These guys have been complete gentlemen all day so far, no matter how many dirty jokes I try to work in.

I'm not sure I like the amount of self-control they're exhibiting so far.

Don’t they know I'm a girl with needs?

We get back to my building faster than I expected. The grocery bags bump my legs as we enter my building and head up the stairs to the second floor. My arm is buried halfway into my purse to dig for my keys when I spot Milo pacing outside of my apartment door like an obnoxious stalker.

He whirls around the second he hears our approaching footsteps.

"There you are!" His shoulders drop with relief that lasts about half a second before he notices I'm not alone. He narrows his eyes at the men flanking me. "Why weren't you answering your phone?"

Oops.

My cheeks warm as I realize I honestly have no idea where my phone is at the moment. I forgot it existed by the time we got back to my apartment yesterday. In fact, I might have left it in my sock drawer last night in my desperate search for an outfit to prove to the pack that I do actually own normal clothes.

"I think I left it at home while we went to the store," I fib, doing my best to ignore the judgment on my brother's face.

"Mia."

"I just forgot it on the charger, okay?" I shrug. Totally no biggie. A little accident.

"Mia," my brother says my name again. "You've probably been missing a lot of texts."

My stomach drops. "Oh no."

"Oh yes." His annoyance with me turns quickly to general upset as he rubs a hand over his face. "There's a video circulating on social media of you chasing Simon the Sloth down the sidelines yesterday, and now everyone you've ever met is tagging you. Or commenting on your pages, asking if it's really you in the horrible pajama pants. And probably calling to personally ask you for the story, which you'd know if you actually checked your phone. What gives? That thing is normally attached to you like a body part."

I roll my eyes up toward the ceiling. "I’ve been a little busy."

"You should still be answering your phone." Milo wags his finger at me, playing the role of parent more than brother. He needs to relax, but instead his gaze shifts to the guys, and his mouth tightens. "Especially because these men are still strangers. I don't know them. You don't know them."

That earns him three immediate reactions. Freddie huffs dramatically, personally wounded. Zak straightens and steps closer to my side protectively. Spencer puts a possessive hand on the small of my back and glares at my brother.

This time, I roll my eyes twice as hard at Milo. He's getting on my nerves. I know that's a brother's job, but I think he should take a demotion and settle down.

"They may technically be strangers, but they're recognizable ones. We got stopped three times for pictures while we were grocery shopping." The football fans didn't realize that Freddie is Simon the Sloth, but the beta member of their pack seems used to being overlooked in those situations. He was happy to volunteer to take people’s photos.

I think he might have actually snapped a couple of selfies on people's phones, too, before handing the devices back. In order not to be complicit in his shenanigans, I pretended not to notice.

"Besides," I continue, "if I were to go missing anytime soon, I'm pretty sure the police will have some questions for the mascot I was last seen chasing off the field yesterday."

"That is a solid point," Freddie agrees.

Milo scowls, looking like he hates that I'm making sense. See? I'm definitely the smarter twin. Verified.

I sidestep my brother and jerk my chin toward the door. "Now, can you please step out of the way so we can get these groceries inside before the four different flavors of ice cream we bought melt?" None of us could come to an agreement on flavor, so we collectively decided the correct answer was to get all four proposed flavors.

An ice cream splurge is my favorite kind of splurge, second to buying shoes.

Milo starts to step aside, then pauses as he takes in the number of bags split between the four of us. His expression turns suspicious again like upon our arrival.

"That's a lot of groceries."

"No kidding," I mutter, fishing my keys out.

His stare bounces from the bags to the guys to me. "Don't you guys have enough money to hire staff to cook for you? My sister is a respected professional. You can't just show up expecting her to suddenly play housewife and cook your meals."