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The innocent question is an unfortunate reminder. “Anywhere, really.” I stab a piece of watermelon. “I…”—don’t want to sound like a total loser so I can’t tell them the whole story—“manage on my own. So a steady source of income is important.”
My face must register the spectrum of unpleasantness roiling inside of me, because Archer suddenly frowns. “If you don’t mind me asking—why did you leave your last job?”
Oh lord. Am I going to have to tell these grown-up, gorgeous, outrageously successful men I got fired? Right now?
I start to panic. And, worse—I’m panicking about panicking. Because this is all so simple and so easy. I should be able to handle this. I have to be able to handle this. And if I can’t…
If I can’t then they’ll all see me as incompetent and weak and needy. They’ll be turned off and irritated. Or angry.
I’ll lose this whole thing before it can even be a thing. Before I can even admit to myself that I might possibly want it.
Suddenly, Theo moves. He practically chucks his plate aside to lunge across the table and scoop me directly into his arms.
The air goes still while he folds me into his lap. Wrapping his arms around me, he squeezes protectively. “Guys,” he growls. “Lay off.”
I brace myself for the fall-out. After all, if Ronan and Archer didn’t think I was pathetic before, they must think so now.
But Theo’s lemongrass and blood orange scent lights up every receptor in my brain, the neurons practically chanting safe, safe, safe.
He nuzzles his cheek against my forehead, clearly scent-marking me. It’s the sweetest form of acceptance. I don’t know how to process it, but tension physically drains out of me anyway.
“That’s better,” he mumbles, cuddling closer. “Your scent was all burned butter. You’re back to peaches now, precious girl.”
Unlike Archer’s smooth, deep timbre, Theo’s purr sounds raspy. Almost hoarse, like it’s never been used before. That notion gives me more joy than any other single thought I’ve ever had.
For one insane second, I’m so stupidly happy in our embrace, I don’t notice that the other guys are clearly uncomfortable. Archer is still as death, and Ronan…
Good God, he’s practically choking me. The sweet smoke I can’t get enough of has swelled into something pitch black and completely overpowering.
Don’t get me wrong—if I have to go, this is definitely the way to do it, choking on one of the best smells in the universe. I would have no regrets with this kind of erotic asphyxiation.
But I’m guessing the shift signifies some distress on his part. And when I peek over Theo’s stacked bicep, I see that I’m right. Ronan looks thunderous.
He and Archer exchange a loaded look that settles him down a little. His eyes are still hot as a forge, but he winces. “We apologize if we made you uncomfortable, Meg. We’ve just been discussing your situation, and we want to help. We want to talk about the possibility of having you work for us remotely, but we wanted to know more about your situation first.”
Theo bends closer and whispers loudly, “They’re nosy fuckers.”
Ronan’s face flickers with the tiniest spark of humor. I like the way it settles in the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he confirms. “Basically.”
Archer reaches across the table and gently cradles my hand in his. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, utterly sincere. “I overwhelmed you.”
…What?
No annoyance? Or anger? They aren’t frustrated with me for being a baby or upset that I was uncomfortable?
They’re just… sorry?
With a grumble, Theo reluctantly loosens his vice-grip on my body. Archer is patient. He waits for me to lean closer before standing and pulling me into his own arms, settling back in his seat with me curled on his lap, facing Ronan.
The rolling purr vibrates against my side, smoothing the last of the panic from my body. His hand cups my head. His eyes fly to his packmates’ before settling back on mine, the dark color so solid and soothing.
“I hate to ask because I hate upsetting you, but we need to know if something happened at your old job so we can fix it. Was there a reason you had to quit so suddenly and didn’t have time to do any research or make any plans?”
There’s so much understanding layered into that question, I’m not even sure where to begin. How does Archer sense that something is off about the way I left my last job? How does he know I’m the type of person who would meticulously plan and look up all of my options before making a career change?
I stare at him; this stranger who seems to know me so well without knowing me at all. Ronan surprises me by interrupting, shooting me a conspiratorial half-smirk. “He knows everything. I hate it.”
It’s the first little glimmer of—I don’t know—humanity that Ronan’s shown. He has such a persona. All the sly humor and hard stares and biting commands and perfect manners. This is the first thing he’s said that feels… Ronan.
