“Going to the gym later on?” I ask her.
“Sure. What time?”
“Gimme an hour to shower and make myself pretty.” I look down at myself. “It will take me some time to get all this paint off. I’ll pick you up.”
“In your pink Cadillac?”
I wink at her. She used to live across town but now she has moved into an apartment two floors above mine, so we’re practically roommates. “Yeah, baby. Wear something nice.”
“I sure will.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “Mission parameters?”
“The same,” I say solemnly. “Stand by for further instructions.”
June and I have been infiltrating an alpha base, aka a gym full of muscular, sweaty alphas. There’s so much eye candy I’m going to get cavities, but a girl has needs.
Also, it’s research. Search. Hunting, like I said. One can’t just sit and wait for the right pack to come to them, right? One needs to be proactive.
Go get those hunky alphas before another gets there first—again.
Not to mention, at the gym, I have my eye on a particular alpha and the hunt is on, baby.
Watch me toss my pink hair over my shoulder as I go.
An hour later, dressed in my flirtiest little dress and high heels, my hair pinned back with butterfly hairpins, my lashes curled and my lips painted, I feel ready to tackle my mission.
“June!” I knock on her door. “Are you ready?”
The door opens and she appears breathless and barefoot, only wearing a thin white summer dress. “Let me put on my sandals and grab my bag.”
Her blond hair hangs around her face, her bare legs are freckled and she’s pretty as a picture.
She’s my girl, my best friend. We sort of grew up together. Our families are friends and we lived on the same suburban street as kids. I always thought we’d find our packs early, that they’d be friends, too, and we’d hang out together all the time, doing fun activities with our kids and strolling in parks and the countryside.
Yeah, I’ve plotted it all out in my mind. Three kids, at least one of them liking cutesy, flowery things like me, a little picturesque cottage out of town with a creek nearby and a touch of a fairytale.
It will happen. I just know it. We’re still young. I’ve barely turned twenty-three. And my dream is very much alive.
“You’re pensive today.” She slips her sandals on, grabs her purse and saunters out. She links her arm with mine and gives me a wink. “Ready for hunk-hunting?”
“Ah. Yeah.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
Twenty-three. I’m turning twenty-three in a couple of weeks and suddenly the weight of my age feels oppressive. Not to mention, Mom has been gently prodding me to meet a few beta men. Any men. As if she’s getting desperate on my behalf.
No pressure, right? Especially when it’s not beta men I want, but big, muscular alphas.
Anyway, this mood isn’t like me. I’m a ray of sunshine. I believe in myself and the future.
So I grin at June and drag her down the stairs. “It’s hunk time!”
“You said it, sister.”
“I brought popcorn,” I say.
“You didn’t!”
