Page 86 of Talk About… Dramay
“Don’t feel obligated,” I started but moved on when Tate gave me a warning look that said I better not start down that road. “But there are plenty of roles. Bookkeeping, setting up stock, cash register, keeping an eye on sales and going to them for new stock, inventory… you get the idea.”
“We don’t want to butt in on your business, Princess,” Lane said, hesitant but I could see the excitement in his eyes.
“Can I be blunt?” I asked. “And maybe a little needy.”
“We always want your honesty,” Hudson said, urging me to talk.
“I don’t want to be alone. This is my dream and I absolutely will, but I also kind of love making it a pack business. Coming in together in the mornings, sharing shifts and duties, going on hunts when we can. I’ve been lonely a long time and I really don’t want to do it again.”
“Then count me in,” Tate said, needing no further convincing. “I’m pretty solid with numbers, I could help with bookkeeping and Hudson is good with security. This will need some solid cameras and maybe even keypads on the doors.”
“Definitely,” Hudson agreed. “We can look into insurance on the antiques for peace of mind.”
“We could do an inventory system with pictures. There’s this cool program I ran across last week when I was looking into what all went into the antique business,” Lane added in.
Just like that, my pack was in.
“How did I get so lucky?” I asked no one in particular.
Tate pulled me in, kissing my forehead gently like I was the most precious thing in the world. To him, I was. He’d come in and not looked back.
“We’re all lucky,” he promised me. “Now, let’s go home.”
Home. Now that I had them, it truly was a home.
Now it was time to get ready so I could show the world that the sexy, leather jacket wearing, tattooed, Whitaker was mine, too.
Oriana
Afrustrated growl escaped me as I ripped off my dress and added it to the pile of rejects. I’d gone through nearly everything I owned and nothing felt right.
I knew I was overthinking, but tonight felt like a big deal and I didn’t want to second guess myself the entire damn night.
A single knock was my warning before Tate walked in and closed the door behind himself. His tan face was set in a grim line and he raised one eyebrow at the scene before him.
A pile of discarded clothes, a half-naked omega, and the slight wobble in my lip.
“I can’t listen to you pacing and freaking out any more,” he said as he finally moved closer until he was close enough I had to tilt my head back to look up at him.
“What if I’m not good enough?” I asked, the insecurities in my head spilling out of my lips in Tate’s presence. Something about the sturdy, calm alpha had me willing to spill my darkest thoughts.
“You are. End of story.”
“That simple?” I asked around a startled laugh.
“You are an omega who survived a broken bond. An omega who took time to heal, then shaped her entire life from scratch. One who realized that the hand dealt to her was unfair and came home to demand her ex take action or she was never giving him a chance. An omega who found a pack yet didn’t push them away.”
“I…” My words were cut off as he continued, voice even, yet fierce enough to send a shiver down my spine. The gravel in his voice didn’t hurt.
“On top of that, you’re fucking breathtaking. Gorgeous copper hair and enough attitude to match. Fathomless ocean blue eyes that I could get lost in. A huge heart that you never once lost even in the worst of times. You’re kind, caring, intelligent, strong, and gorgeous. You are the entire package, Oriana, and we are damn lucky to call you ours.”
“But,” I argued. He put a finger to my lips to stop me.
“If the next words aren’t ‘Yes, Alpha, I am all of those things’, then I don’t want to hear it,” he growled, keeping his finger over my lips as he leaned in and ran his face up and down my neck, scent marking me. “No excuses. Just confidence. You found your worth and if you truly want to forgive and move on, then you have to make that choice for yourself. However, you can’t keep waiting and watching for him to fail.”
Was I doing that? Outside of my freakout, did I keep holding my breath and waiting for him to do the same thing all over again?
Despite the fact he’d regretted it and tried to reach out, had even gone to my house and called. Then he wrote letters, kept my dreams alive, and never truly gave up.