The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter Three Hundred Seven

KENDALL

After a quick shower, courtesy of Charlie’s apartment upstairs, | was able to wash all traces of vomit from my

person, brush my teeth - for like...the fiftieth ttoday and blow dry my hair so that the hazel blond locks fall

softly into carefully styled layers. Changing into a pair of jean cut-off booty shorts with black leggings

underneath and the adorable ‘Moonlight Lounge” crop top, | do a spin in the mirror, happy that my tummy is still

pretty flat.

One day though...it won't be. And on that day | don’t know what I'm going to do. Because those assholes that

own this place might not letkeep working here when they find out that I'm pregnant and | really like this job.

Hopefully Charlie will be able to convince them to keep me. He said that he would at least try.

Until this morning in the restaurant bathroom, no one knew that | was pregnant. But after having Charlotte the

Harlot walk in on me, | knew that | had better tell Charlie myself. So when | first walked-in, that’s exactly what |

did. He didn’t seem bothered by it in the least and he seems to think Bartlett will be cool with it too, but he

doesn’t know about my history with that surly bastard.

Bartlett doesn’t hate me, but he does think I'm obsessed with him, which is sooo not true.

I mean sure, liked him a lot at first, but he didn’t want to be exclusive and, I'll admit, at first I was cool with that.

Because, being honest? | only got with him in the first place to try to get someone else's attention. But it didn't

work the way | expected it to. Maybe not at all. And the next thing you know, I'm completely plastered and

walking out of the bar with Mister Tall Dark and Nameless.

Three weeks and not much of a memory later, I'm craving chocolate covered jalapenos and tossing my lunch in

the back of the diner parking lot.

The saddest part about that is... not only do | not have daddy’s name... but | don’t think I'd even recognize him if

| saw him again.

I know what you're thinking, and trust me, I'm in no way impressed with the astronomical fuckery in which |

chose to partake, but... in my defense... | was so monumentally heartbroken that I just didn’t give a fuck at the

time. | didn’t care!!! | didn’t give a fuck if I left that night with a serial killer and got dropped back off with only

nine fingers and toes.

And no, none of it was Bartlett's fault. And yes, | did try and insert myself back into his life so that maybe | could

pretend the baby was his and force him into an unhappily never after, but he wasn’t going for it and that’s

probably a good thing.

Because it’s not even him that | want.

It never was.

And with that in mind, | walk toward the window that looks out onto the street and peer out toward the cafe just

to be certain that Timmons isn’t still out there.

Who are you kidding bitch.

You know you love seeing that asshole.

Even though he acts as if you don’t exist.

Except for the times when he knows that you do and he treats you like the town pariah.

“Why are you such a loser?” | ask myself, when | see that Timmons is in fact gone and | find myself with my face

pressed up on the glass so that | can look up and down the street.

He usually passes through the area pretty regularly when he’s on duty. Not that I've noticed, or anything.

“Con Bundy... tto get to work,” | tell myself, my eyes skirting over the line that has already formed

outside the front door.

I don’t know what it is about this town and its wintertdrunks, but the action in this place is hotter now than it

ever is in summer.

Taking the stairs one tiny beat at a time, | hear him before | see him and | swear to the holy ghost, | do not mean

to trip when I do, but... of course... | do.

There are only about five stairs left when | catch sight of Timmons curly brown hair and my feet forget that we

don’t have wings, but five is just enough forto go flying to my doom without them, so that is what | do.

Fuck this is going to hurt!

My arms flail in wide circles as | nosedive toward the floor and a scream catches in my throat, my voice locking

behind sdeath wish of mine that refuses to call for help. But in the midst of my descent out of greatness, |

see him turn around and notice me. What | don’t see is how in the everyday fuck he moves quickly enough to

catch me.

But catchhe does. And no God, | am not sorry.

“What the fuck?!” Timmons snarls once he hasin his arms, and sweet baby Jesus am | grateful for them.

He is holdingbridal style, somehow having flippedupright during my demise, and the warmth of his body

is everywhere. | can feel the blood rushing to my face as | stare up at him like a lovesick idiot, simply mute and

stupid without a goddamned thing to say to him besides, “Hi.”

Timmons swallows thickly, | can see his throat bob with the effort, but he doesn’t smile, oh no, he curses instead.

“Fuck.”

“Jesus Christ Ken, are you okay?” Charlie exclaims from behind the bar. That could have been, really, really bad.”

“I'm aware,” | say breathlessly, my eyes still locked on my prince's face as it looms above me. It is that moment

that | realize that he is still holdingand despite the scowl he is sporting, | never want him to letgo.

Timmons eyebrows draw together, his cinnamon gold gaze swirling with an emotion that | just can’t seem to

place. Okay, maybe | can place it, but just don’t want to. Because, it could be hate... but I'd rather it not be. “Did

you just cdown from Charlie's apartment?” he

hisses.

| bite my lip and nod, not really sure why he asks.

Timmons’ jaw clenches so tight | think | hear his teeth grinding. “Of fucking course you did,” he snaps. Then he

walksover to a booth

and dropsonto the seat so unceremoniously that | bounce.

The moment he letsgo, | miss his warmth, but | have no right to, so | refrain from climbing back up his chest

the way | dream of doing. “Thank you.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Ar you working here now?” he spits, venomously.

| eye him warily, noting that he is still in uniform when I say, “Not that it's your business, officer, but yes, yes |

[a

He chuckles humorlessly. “Well, not anymore. Because I just fired you.”

Goddamnit.