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“How can I help you today, hon?” the older beta asks, her voice crackling on the speaker.
“Paying water and electric for 267 Oak Ridge.”
The woman’s nails clack on the keyboard, and I want to groan at her pace. I fidget, eager to get my plan in motion, except for the part where I don’t actually have a plan.
The woman next to me doesn’t sound as if she’s faring better. I try not to eavesdrop but can’t help but overhear her conversation. Her voice is strained as she begs the teller to grant her another extension on her bill.
“I know I already had an extension, but can you give me another week?”
The teller isn’t having it, lecturing the woman on the codes she would violate by granting kindness.
Something in the woman’s sound pulls me in and makes me want to protect her. Her voice is rich, like chocolate velvet, almost honeyed. But even the beauty of it can’t hide her tiredness. It’s wrong, the way desperation tarnishes such a lively sound. My heart feels as if it’s cinched too tight in a vise.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye, her braid swinging with her movements, making the golden highlights shimmer. She’s soft-looking and curvy, with an ass that won’t quit. But something in her posture tells me this beautiful woman is near her breaking point.
The teller at my window pulls my attention and I hand over my card, signing quickly.
Next to me, the woman curses. “Thanks for your help today, Charlene,” she says, the words dripping with sarcasm.
I watch as she folds up the paperwork in front of her in quick, tense movements and turns to walk away. I’m drawn to her, mesmerized. She is stunning, absolutely fucking breathtaking. Her heart-shaped face and sharp cheekbones give her a delicate beauty. Her lips are pouty and made for kissing. The addition of her button nose softens her starkness, making her overall appearance sweet-looking.
She spears me with her eyes, her expression telling me she doesn’t give a fuck if I judge her for what I overheard. Even though this woman is near her breaking point, I can tell she’s strong. I swallow around the lump in my throat, slayed by her grit.
As she passes me, a hint of her scent carries.
My heart stops and starts again. She’s the raspberry tart I smelled in our yard. Cammie. And she’s ours. Mine. I was hoping that was the case, but scenting Cammie now, I know it down to my DNA. I want to wrap her up, take her home with me, and snuggle her until the tiredness leaks from her voice and only the honey remains.
I suck in her scent, letting it fill my lungs until it seeps into my soul. It’s the smell of my kitchen currently. Almost. I’ve been baking for days straight, trying to capture the scent. Nothing came close enough.
My feet follow her, a puppy on a leash. The teller calls me back, and I curse, realizing I left my wallet at the counter. By the time I make it outside of the building, Cammie is already gone.
Scratch the meet-cute. And there will be no climbing over desks to ravage her. No, my beta mate needs some serious omega TLC. I don’t think she’s had a “yes” life, which means we will have to woo her slowly. Even if what I want is to have her move in this afternoon. No matter what, I can’t leave here knowing her utilities are about to be shut off.
I head back into the town offices and find my sister Riley’s beta mate, Lilian, who is the mayor’s secretary. I give her the rundown of the situation. Before I’ve finished, she’s on the phone with the supervisor who handles the utility accounts, negotiating Cammie Cooper an extension on her bill.
Lilian grins at me as she hangs up the phone. She’s elegant, her dark curls pulled back into a sleek bun and her deep brown skin clear of makeup except her pop of bright lipstick. But I’ve known her too long to be fooled by the posh administrative assistant vibe she’s rocking. She’s about to give me shit.
“I’m impressed. I figured you were going to demand to pay the balance now. How did you keep yourself contained?” she asks, her brown eyes teasing.
“Trust me, I thought about it, and the urge to do it is strong. But this is already borderline total psycho-stalker, so I’m trying to rein it in.” I shrug. It’s not as if Lilian doesn’t know how omegas can be. My sister’s pack omega, Gwen, may be more pampered than me. She’s got four alphas and a beta who all spoil her.
She laughs. “Because you reining it in isverylikely.”
“I can be reasonable,” I pout.
She snorts.
“Ha-ha.” I roll my eyes. I may or may not have a reputation as a bit of a handful.
Her face turns serious, and she gets up from behind her desk, arms open. “Come here.”
I snuggle into her for a moment, taking the comfort of family. Reid’s been gone for days. Usually that isn’t too much of a problem, except we have a beta mate who is hurting. The only way I know to fix it is to help her with this, but I don’t think she’d thank me for it. I kinda, maybe, sorta want to cry.
She rubs her hands along my back. “Hey, this is an unusual situation, but fate doesn’t generally make mistakes. Hang in there.”
“Does that mean I can count on you to keep this between us?” I ask hopefully. It’s a long shot. My family is close. Too close probably, but we like it that way.
“I’m here for the plot,” she jokes.
