“You’re so good at this,” Sophie said when I walked back to them. “So patient.”
“You would be too if you saw how much they spent,” I said in a low voice. “Those old ladies? They’re voracious. I’ve talked to them about Kindle Unlimited or book exchanges, thinking I was ripping off these pensioners, but apparently they were all left quite a lot of money by their dear husbands.”
I flopped down into the chair, then rubbed at my temple. The greasy Sausage McMuffin I’d eaten on the way over here had seemed like a good idea then, but not now.
“So, obviously shit is hitting the fan. What’s he done?”
“Not Ben,” Sophie said.
Oh great…
“Ben is the bio dad, correct?” Leo said, consulting the notes he’d taken. “Whether or not that will matter is still to be determined. Legally individual paternal rights haven’t applied when it comes to alpha packs. The perception that any child produced by a pack member belongs to the pack has informed our laws thus far. Unfortunately for you, that means each member of the Morrison pack could be considered the father of your daughter, legally, once paternity can be established.”
“We can go through the rigmarole of DNA testing if needed,” I said with a frown. “But there’s not much point. I knew Ben was Evie’s dad and, from his reaction yesterday, he and his brothers agree.”
“Well, that will make things simpler,” Leo said.
“Look.” I glanced out the window, ostensibly looking for more customers to come inside the shop, but more because it was easier to say this without acknowledging someone’s concerned gaze upon me. “I’ve got no intention of fighting Ben for access to Evie.” My jaw tightened, but I let a long breath out, forcing myself to relax. “She wants to know her father. And I’ve been asked more times than I can count if her father is around to help manage her behaviour, like he’s going to be some kind of magic bullet.”
When I looked back at Leo, my gaze was hard, unrelenting.
“So if he wants to jump in and help raise Evie, then let’s work something out. But whatever we agree to, Evie comes first. Tell his lawyer that. It’s not about him, it’s not about me, it’s about my daughter. That’s what being a parent is, making her the centre of things.”
“Agreed,” Leo said with a firm nod. “I’ll be sure to make that clear, because this Logan Morrison? He’s wanting to file for sole custody.”
I suckeda breath in so fast that my lungs stuttered. Then, before I could raise a response, the bell on my front door jingled. I jerked to my feet and marched over to meet the customer with all of the repressed frustration that is mastered by people who work in retail. It wasn’t his fault, so, as I barrelled over there, I let out a long sigh, willing, needing all my anger to just take a fucking number in the very packed waiting room inside my head. But any snippy greeting I might’ve mustered died when I caught sight of him.
At first, I just stared. With eyes like his, as green as a Granny Smith apple, that was an entirely natural response, but the pretty eyes were just the garnish on top of this dish. Cheekbones, like they’d been sliced into his face with a knife, ended in a square jaw coloured by a dark scruff halfway between a beard and stubble. But it was his lips, twisting slowly into the kind of cocky but charming smile I’d spent my life reading about but never actually seen, that almost had me stumbling over my feet.
“Ah… hi,” I said.
Excellent opening. One of your best. You muppet, my inner critic snarked.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“I hope so,” he said, his smile widening, then turning into something downright adorable, because there was a sheepish edge to it. “I need to buy a present for someone and I heard she loves books.”
Her. Damn.
“A present? Would a gift card be your best bet? Books can be such a personal thing,” I replied. “That way she can buy whatever she wants.”
“Yep, I thought of that, but giving someone a bit of card with a dollar sign? It’s kind of impersonal, y’know?” His eyes raked across the floor and, as he did, the ladies in the corner started to twitter. Of course they did, one of the romantic heroes from their books just came to life and sauntered into my shop. He shoved his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans and then cocked his hips and damn me if I didn’t follow that pelvic movement with my eyes. “I know I’m asking a lot, but I want something personal, even though I don’t really know her.”
I straightened then, looking at him more closely. Well… more evaluatively. I took in the plaid shirt and worn jeans, the broad shoulders and massive biceps bunching under rolled up sleeves. My alpha radar started to ding inside my head wildly.
“Have you… have you found your omega?”
That was a kind of personal question to ask, but who knew more than me about what alphas were like when they were in the courting phase? If he’d caught scent of her, he’d be willing to go to whatever lengths it took to get her attention, including sauntering into my bookshop. He smiled slowly, studying my face, as if wondering how I’d put two and two together.
“Something like that,” he said, then took a step closer.
Whoa, feeling a man tower over me like this in the shop? It was like my professional life and my private one had collided, and I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with that.
Omega, I reminded myself.
“I’m Damon,” he said, in a low husky voice that sounded like sex and bad decisions.
“Lily McGregor,” I said crisply, taking it and giving his massive hand the world’s shortest shake before pulling away, surreptitiously wiping mine on my jeans afterwards. “So, do you know what kinds of genres your omega likes?”