"You too." She smiles, but there's wariness in her eyes as she studies me. I realize I'm staring and try to arrange my face into something less... whatever it's doing right now.
This can't be happening. We can't have found another scent match so soon after Darren presented. The odds are astronomical. And yet here she is, smelling like my favorite guilty pleasure: the pumpkin spice lattes I secretly order whenno one from the team is around, because I'd never hear the end of it if they knew my sugary autumn secret.
I drop her hand like it's burning me, taking a step back. Get it together, McKinney.
"Aidan's our star rookie," Darren says, filling the awkward silence. "Came straight from college and is already breaking records."
"That's impressive." Lexie's smile is genuine, but I can tell she's picking up on the weird vibe I'm putting out. "I don't know much about hockey, but I'm learning."
"It's pretty simple," I manage, finding my voice. "Keep the puck out of our net, put it in theirs."
"I think I can remember that." She laughs, and the sound does something warm and sinful to my insides.
This is bad. This is very, very bad. Or good. My brain isn't computing at the moment.
Darren gives me a look that clearly sayswhat the hell is wrong with you?before turning back to Lexie. "The others should be here any minute. Traffic's a nightmare tonight."
"No rush," she says, though I can see the tightness in her shoulders. She's nervous about meeting the rest of us. Can't blame her, considering how weird I'm being. And she hasn't even met Zayn yet.
Oh, God. Zayn. How ishegoing to react?
A waiter appears with a tray of drinks, some kind of specialty cocktails in elegant glasses. "Compliments of the chef," he explains. "A house specialty to start your evening."
We each take a glass, and I'm grateful to have something to do with my hands. The drink is strong, with notes of bourbon and citrus. I take a larger sip than I should, hoping the alcohol might steady my nerves.
"So, Lexie," I say, desperate to act normal, "Darren mentioned you design clothing?"
Her face lights up at the question, her passion evident as she describes her business. "Mainly sweaters and accessories. I started small, just selling to friends, but now I have customers all over the world."
"That's awesome." I mean it. There's something compelling about her enthusiasm, the way she talks with her hands, the pride in her voice when she mentions a recent feature in a design magazine.
As she speaks, I steal glances at Darren. He's watching her with undisguised interest, a softness in his expression I've rarely seen. It makes my chest ache in a way I don't want to examine too closely.
I always knew I had feelings for Darren. But I've never been the type to pine after straight guys—oranyguys, for that matter—especially not teammates. I buried those feelings deep, focused on the game, on being a good packmate. It was manageable.
Until he presented as an omega. Until biology threw a wrench into everything I thought I knew.
And now this, a beautiful woman who smells like home and autumn and everything good, who's clearly into Darren, who might become part of our pack. It's too much, too fast. I don't know what to do with any of it. Not without fucking it all up for him.
"Aidan? You with us?" Darren's voice pulls me back to the present.
"Sorry, what?" I blink, realizing I've completely zoned out.
"I asked if you'd ever been to Boston," Lexie says, her expression curious. "I went to design school there."
"Oh. Uh, only for games. Never really had time to explore."
She nods, and I can tell she's trying to keep the conversation flowing despite my awkwardness. "It's a great city. You should visit sometime."
"Maybe during the off-season." I take another sip of my drink, wishing the others would hurry up and get here. I'm making a mess of this, and Darren's increasingly pointed looks aren't helping. At least in a crowd of six, I can blend in easier.
As if on cue, the frosted glass door slides open, and the rest of our pack enters. Jax leads the way, looking sharp in a gray suit that matches his eyes. Dmitri follows, massive as ever in a black button-down that makes his pale blue eyes stand out. And behind them, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, is Zayn in designer jeans and a midnight blue shirt that probably costs as much as my car, even if it isn't exactly occasion appropriate.
I'm making bank now, too, but I've never been able to stomach the idea of spending as much as he does on that shit. Guess it's a side effect of growing up with next to nothing. Spoiling my mom comes easy, but everything else…
"Sorry we're late," Jax says smoothly, crossing the room to where we stand. "Traffic was a nightmare."
I watch Lexie's expression as she takes in the newcomers. There's a flash of intimidation before she composes herself. Can't blame her. Three alphas walking into a room with that much collective presence would make anyone nervous. And I remember Darren saying something about her being wary of packs in general. Now I wish I'd asked for more details.
