Page 3 of Pack End Game

His expression softens. "I'm sorry. I've had a really long day at work, but I'm being insensitive." He shrugs out of his coat and lays the garment across Belle's abandoned bar stool. "Let me run to the bathroom and splash some water on my face, and then I promise we'll get this sorted out."

I can't help but feel relieved as he walks away. Aside from that initial sandalwood scent, there's nothing about Jason that I'm drawn to. He's too clean-cut, for one. How in the world could I survive a lifetime with someone who has no edge? No pizzazz or quirk?

Luckily, the further away he gets, and the more the smell of licorice recedes with him, the better I can smell the original scent again. My eyes flutter shut as I inhale deeply, calming instantly as I take in sensations of warmth and belonging. Everything my little omega heart could possibly desire, nearly within my reach.

Wait a second...

I clasp a hand over my heart as I gasp, my eyes flying open and looking instantly toward the bar. The cute bartender tries to beckon me closer with a smile, but I don't have time for that flirtationship anymore. Instead, my gaze lands on the source of the irresistible scent I'm so drawn to.

Jason smells like licorice.

It's not Jason.

I'm sure I'll feel great relief about that later when I'm not frozen in place, my gaze pinned to the stool where my bestie was sitting only minutes ago.

The black peacoat lies slung across the barstool haphazardly. The material folds in on itself, clearly well-loved enough that it doesn’t quite hold its shape anymore. There’s nothing shabby about the garment, though, with pristine dark fabric that looks expensive and black buttons that are polished to a shine.

Mesmerized, I step closer and pick up the crumpled lump of fabric. My thumb caresses the material at the lapel. Real wool. I press my cheek against the fabric and inhale.

My scent-match... is a fucking coat?

Chapter One

Freddie

ALMOST ONE YEAR LATER

There’s nothing quite like game day at the Kane & Co. Superdome.

Even from the parking lot, I can feel the energy buzzing in the air. In just a few hours, the cheers of the crowd will be roaring through our ears. The smell of concessions and hope will fill the stadium, fueling those of us on the field.

I’m already thinking of which celebration dance I want to do for touchdowns. Should I go a little Magic Mike and grind the grass? Maybe a tasteful twerk that will scandalize the older fans? The shopping cart is a classic, but it might not feel right in the moment.

The semantics of getting the players to pretend to be bowling pins while I roll through them are filtering through my head when a gruff voice interrupts.

“Neither of you remembered a coat?” Spencer asks as he shakes his head.

I’d think it’s unfair that he looks so effortlessly good-looking, but I know he meticulously picked out every piece. He’s wearing a long wool coat over his suit, and I’m confident that once today’s “Game Day Fit” video is posted on social media, the comments will agree that he looks ridiculously handsome.

Last week, while scrolling through to see what people were saying about my alphas, I noticed several marriage proposals and many offers to take their bites. I got a little jealous and whiny, just so they’d both shower me with attention.

And a blow job.

Spencer is the head of our pack for many reasons, but his constant concern for our well-being is my favorite.

I look over at my other alpha, Zak, and notice he’s shivering despite the Sloths sweatshirt he’s wearing. He doesn’t really take the game-day outfits seriously, something we’ve heard the coaches complain about.

Knowing I’m about to spend the next several hours hot and sweaty, I embrace the gust of wind, which sends chills down my neck. Besides, the walk through the parking lot and into the stadium isn’t too long.

“You know I’m not one to throw on an extra layer unless it’s snowing,” I respond to Spencer’s question with a teasing grin.

Zak, on the other hand, is huffing his breath as if he’s walking through the tundra. He’s never been a fan of cold weather, which is why I’m as surprised as Spencer that he isn’t layered up better.

Spencer slows down his incredibly sexy walk to glance over his shoulder at us, taking in the sight of the teeth-chattering alpha.

“You’re both idiots,” he says with a flat expression before adding, “Zak, would you like to borrow my coat?”

“Umm, no, I’m good.” Zak tells him, but his steps get quicker.