Her Knotty List (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 4)

“Em,” the enormous blonde sitting across from me muffles around a cream-filled bon bon. “I swear, you could not get any prettier.”

It’s hard not to smirk at her for numerous reasons. First, Meg’s just patently wrong. Second, she only has one leg of her panty hose on.

And third, lying on the bridal suite’s chaise lounge, with her fleshy preggo-Spanx pulled up to her under-boob region… my sister-in-law sort of resembles a beached seal.

But, like, in an ethereal grower-of-life sorta way.

Meg drops another crème puff into her mouth the exact way a SeaWorld handler might drop a herring into the mouth of a walrus. This time, I can’t swallow my laugh.

She shoots me a pissy glare, narrowing bright blue eyes. “Just wait,” she grumbles, swallowing.

“You’re short like me, and I thought”—she drops her voice into an irritating whine, highlighting how annoyingly naive past Meg sounded—“oh, I’m petite, I’ll be a cute pregnant lady. NOPE. Just means we get double the stretch marks other women get and look even more ridiculous when our mammoth alpha babies start crushing our internal organs. Give it one year and you’ll be just as huge and uncomfortable and hideous as I am now!”

Her voice cracks as fat tears roll down both sides of her face. It would be concerning, if she hadn’t already cried over her pantyhose being too tight, her hair being too frizzy, a cloud that looked like a ducky, and the fact that she wanted more bon bons but was mortified to order a fourth plate.

Yes. Fourth.

In retrospect, it was probably a bad call to ask my nine-months-pregnant sister-in-law to be my only bridesmaid.

I’d never admit it, but she wasn’t my very first choice. I would have asked Lucy, if anyone could nail her down for longer than a few days at a time. And Bridget, who has been acting truly bizarre for the last six months…

The door clicks open and my big brother sticks his head into the bridal suite with his palms clasped over his eyes. “Safe to look?”

I giggle, “Come in, come in. We better order your poor wife some more crème puffs before she dehydrates.”

Theo ambles into the room, looking every inch the oversized pro football player despite his tailored blue suit. It might be the height of fashion on another man, but he just looks like a blond yeti playing dress-up. Probably because his hair is as unruly as mine, only his is tied up in a man bun and comes with a matching beard.

We also share the same lighter complexion and green eyes, but the similarities stop there. He’s 100 percent alpha—huge and bulked, with broad features and more body hair than I like to think about.

Conversely, I’m about as omega as I could get. Basically the human equivalent of a sloopy bowl of vanilla ice cream. I even melt down with alarming ease.

In that way, it’s actually sort of nice having Preggo Meg around. At least I know I am not currently the craziest omega in this hotel.

“Peaches,” my brother croons to his mate.

I turn and notice she’s glaring at him. He holds up his hands. “I know you said not to come in here. And I know you’ve been pushing us reassurance in the bond. But, precious, this is your third time crying in twenty minutes. You know the rule.”

Meg huffs, crossing her arms and wiggling higher in the chair. Well, trying to wiggle. Theo crosses the room in five steps and gently helps prop her up while her eyes burn laser holes into the side of his face.

“What’s the rule?” I ask, dabbing fresh powder onto my nose, hiding the big freckle dotted there.

Theo sighs, sinking into a crouch beside Meg’s chair. “We all agreed not to hover or overreact when Meg is feeling big feelings. And she agreed not to get mad at us for interfering if she’s truly upset or if she’s cried more than three times in twenty minutes.”

Oh wow. Those rules sound… specific. And likely honed from a lot of unpleasantness.

Theo notices my eyes go wide and shoots me a panicked get-it-together look. It’s too late, though. Meg sees me and wails into his shoulder, leaving puddles on his lapel.

“Now she’s going to think I’m crazy!” she cries. “And I’m ruining her wedding!”

My big brother easily lifts his omega into his arms and sits with her tucked into his chest. His purr rattles while I rush to reassure Meg.

“You aren’t ruining anything! This is just the rehearsal!”

Tomorrow will be a whole different beast. Because tomorrow, I’ll be bonded to the Dunlap Pack. And I have to be perfect.

Well.

As close as I can get.

My soon-to-be alpha, William, loves to tease me over what a hot mess I am. Clumsy and prone to saying the most inappropriate things when I get nervous.

I’m also more emotional than anyone in the Dunlap Pack would prefer, but try as I might, I can’t seem to fight how my feelings swell to fill my entire body. It’s taken months of practice to keep the sensations to myself, even if the way they singe my scent can’t be helped.

Science doesn’t lie, though. And the Dunlaps were matched with me through the most elite, successful match service in the country. We have a super-high compatibility rating of ninety-five percent. Just over the threshold that makes us scent-sensitive.

Mates, my mind corrects. They’re your mates!

A queasy roll of nervous excitement flips my stomach every time I think the word, my Omega desperately whining at me. Mates, mates, mates.

Geez.

I hear you, I tell her, exhaling shakily. They’ll be ours tomorrow.

Thinking about it sends another swoop of anxiety through me. My mind races, leaping through all the things I have to get done. Still have to build the nest for the ceremony, but I can’t start that until after the dinner because they can’t see it until tomorrow. And I need to wash my hair and shave my legs again and make sure I don’t trip in my heels and⁠—

I’ve never been particularly organized or elegant, but for my new pack, I will try my hardest.

I can do this!

Totally.

Theo strokes his ham-hand over Meg’s head but turns his eyes to me. They crease with fresh concern. “You good, baby sis?”

Oh. My scent. My alpha big brother has always been able to tell when I’m upset.

But I’m not upset.

This is just nerves. I’m great.

I blink at Meg and Theo, noting the way she turns her face into his chest, burrowing closer to his purrs. The weak, melty part of me wants to whine.

Gosh, that looks so nice. I wonder if I could get William to purr for me before dinner. Or Rob, if he’d agree this time… He probably will..? Of course he will. I just need a little bit.

Two minutes, tops.

It can’t hurt to ask, right? These guys will be my alphas tomorrow. And their beta—our beta—Renee, is always demanding I tell them what I want.

“Y-yeah,” I swallow, sliding toward the door. “I’ll just… be right back.”

Theo’s eyebrows fold down, but he nods. “Mom is looking for you, anyway. Better run while you can.”

Oh geez. Mom. She’s been an absolute watering pot this whole weekend. Crying happy tears every time she sees Meg’s belly, every time we take a big family photo, every time she sees me with my soon-to-be pack.

This is all of her dreams come true. Me, marrying a scent-matched pack the way she did back in the day. Her alpha son doting on his expecting omega.

“By the way,” Theo adds, “My buddy Gunnar is here. I hope that’s cool with you. Mom said we had enough food for a last-minute invite.”

I trip over my own feet and lurch into the doorframe. “What?!”

When I whip my head around, I find Theo and Meg staring, their faces crumpled into matching masks of confused concern.

Their bemusement is justified, I suppose. After Gunnar all but shoved me away from him at their New Year’s party last year, I didn’t have the nerve to admit the real reason I’d ended up in the swimming pool. He was gone by the time I doggy-paddled my way out, and I was too embarrassed by his reaction to my scent to tell anyone we’d even met.

I definitely didn’t tell them that the humiliation of meeting Gunnar Sinclair, being confused for Lucy, perfuming, and getting pushed into the pool because he couldn’t get away from me fast enough was the real reason I finally gave in and agreed to a scent-matching service.

I’d been resisting for years, even while Lucy and all her friends dabbled with the concept. I knew some of them had even found scent-sensitive mates—the way Remi and her alphas did—but I had all these silly, romantic fantasies of meeting my mates organically.

Dreams that drowned in the deep end of my brother’s swimming pool.

For weeks, I couldn’t get the horrified look on Gunnar’s face out of my mind. I spent the remainder of winter break whining in my nest, my Omega and I equally devastated by the memory.

I never wanted to endure a rejection like that again. I needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the next alphas I touched were attracted to me.

For a while, even that seemed hopeless. Theo was all-too happy to foot the bill for my sign-up. But after I sent in my samples, I didn’t hear back for months.

It may have taken Forever Matched longer than average to find alphas who wanted me, but at least I knew I’d never have to see Gunnar Sinclair’s shocked revulsion ever again.

Or so I thought.

“My buddy Gunnar?” Theo repeats. “He plays on the Timberwolves? He didn’t have anywhere to go for the holidays, and he’s been having some issues with the team, so I invited him. You don’t care, right?”

…

Crap on a catfish.

Before I can react, Meg wails. “Oh no! I told them you wouldn’t care, and you do! I’m ruining everything! I’m the worst maid of honor ever! You should have Lucy take over when she gets here—you shouldn’t even let me come to the w-wedding!”

A bolt of panic shoots through me as she collapses into sobs. Meg can’t step down as my maid of honor! My sister isn’t even going to get here until tomorrow morning, and someone is supposed to give a toast tonight!

My new alphas had very specific plans for all of this. If I ruin them by scaring off the only bridal party I have, they’ll be so disappointed in me.

A whine scales my throat, but Theo tugs his mate into his roaring purr, casting me a wide-eyed fix-it Emma look.

Meg babbles on, snot running from her red nose as she turns her anguished aqua eyes on mine. “You’ve been the chillest bride ever!” she cries. “I really didn’t think you’d care about an extra guest, but we should have asked! I’m so s-sorry!”

… Am I a bridezilla if I agree with her?

This does seem like the sort of thing someone should have run by me… then again, I have been really hands-off with the planning. And no one knows that Gunnar and I met last year.

If this was some other friend of my brother’s, would I still care?

I don’t really get a chance to contemplate it, because the door next to me flies open and smacks me in the face.

Um.

Ow.

No one notices me recoil with a pained whine, because three suited-up, furious alphas suddenly storm into the room.

My brother’s pack bursts past me, erupting in growls and purrs as they scent Meg’s distress and fly to her side. Their pack alpha drops to his knees, cupping his tattooed hand around Meg’s face.

“Baby girl,” he grits. “What’s wrong? Tell Daddy.”

Meg stammers, trying to explain. As soon as she says my name, Archer and Declan whip their heads in my direction. The doctor’s kind, dark eyes are the very picture of disappointment.

And Declan looks enraged. A growl builds in his broad chest as he pierces me with neon-blue spears of accusation.

Archer notices the way I tremble under the quarterback’s glare and places a hand on his packmate’s chest. He casts me a tired look. “Emma, would you excuse us for a few moments so we can work this out?”

I should nod and walk away without issue, right? I love Meg—I know she didn’t mean to upset me. Plus, she’s so pregnant, she’s practically insane. I should have compassion for that.

I definitely shouldn’t feel sorry for myself.

Yet, a tender lump fills my throat, wetting my eyes. My nose smarts, tingling with tears and whatever mark the estate house’s heavy antique door just left.

My alphas, my Omega whines, shoving at me.

She’s right. I just need to find my alphas, and I’ll be okay. They’ll… make it okay?

Totally. Yes.

I bob my head at Archer and slip out of the room, praying no more trouble finds me before I find my pack.