‘Scent samples for your chosen selections will arrive by courier tomorrow. Please follow the instructions carefully.’
Scent samples? When Micah said they didn’t rely on physical appearance, he hadn’t been joking. He thought he’d get to see a photo sooner rather than later. But maybe that would be the end of the process, rather than the start.
As he shut down his laptop, the rough sketches for a new project caught his eye. He tugged them to the center of his desk and flipped through them. He had a sudden thought about the windows, grabbing a pencil and making some adjustments. In his mind’s eye, he could picture his vision clearly. He’d struggled to do that for months. As he finished his sketch, the burst of energy faded, and the tiredness that came with the end of the workday sank back under his skin.
“Wow.” His voice echoed around his empty office as he stared at what he’d accomplished.
He’d known the whole point of a muse was to stimulate the creative inspiration he needed to do his job. But he’d never expected such a strong reaction to nothing more than a disembodied voice. As skeptical as he’d been about the whole concept of muses, if his reaction to that voice was any indication, this looked very promising. Maybe his career wasn’t dead in the water after all.
Three indistinct bottles in neat packaging arrived first thing Friday morning. The instructions said not to wait more than four hours before trying them and to leave at least thirty minutes between each bottle. They were also numbered one to three, with advice to try them in that order. Simple enough. In the bottles were two small pieces of scented paper glued together. Opening the bottle pulled those pieces apart, which released the scent into the air.
William tried the first one just before starting his morning’s work. The scent was noticeable, but he didn’t feel any different once he’d inhaled it. Following the instructions, he marked the rating scale on the side of the bottle, sealed it, and placed it back in the box it had come in. Then, he got to work.
When his phone beeped an hour later, he silenced the alarm and went to the open window, taking a few deep breaths of the fresh air to clear his senses. Then he tried bottle two. This scent hit him more strongly, and he found his concentration that bit better when he sat down to work. It was nothing like that burst of inspiration from the night before, but hey, maybe he was more of a voice person than a scent one?
He left it another full hour before he tried the third—he had work to complete so he could send it on to Beckett. Taking a break, he got out the last bottle and stared at it. Had they put them in order of how he’d rated the voices? If so, was this the scent of the voice he’d reacted to so strongly the night before? There was only one way to find out.
With a twist, he broke the seal and opened the bottle, inhaling deeply. The scent that hit his nose was heady, and a moan escaped his lips. It was like a drug, reaching down inside him and sending the blood pumping through his veins. He let himself luxuriate in it, feeling alive for the first time in months.
His phone buzzed, and he groaned, checking the email that had arrived in his inbox. He needed to get back to work. Deciding to take advantage of the fact that he was feeling good for once, he plucked his trickiest project from the pile and opened all the files connected to it. The interior had been giving him the most trouble—particularly the transition from the first to the second floor. Nothing he’d tried had worked for the aesthetic his client wanted. Unless…
In a burst of inspiration, he knew exactly what was needed—a mezzanine. He could picture it clearly, complete with a glass wall to maximize the light. A place where people would stand and take in the view. His hand moved furiously across the tablet screen as he sketched, losing himself in his work. The buzz of his phone pulled him from his trance, and he found that over an hour had passed. He stood up and stretched, feeling like he’d woken from a pretty fantastic dream. Except it wasn’t a dream, because the success was tangible—it was right there in front of him.
He checked the instructions on the bottles’ packaging, which led him back to the website he’d logged into the evening before. There, he was asked to rate all three of the scents again. Once that was done, a link appeared with the ID numbers of the second and third bottles. Finally, he would get to see the faces behind his potential matches. He looked at the pictures belonging to bottle two first. Within a matter of seconds, he knew that this wasn’t his muse. He clicked on the last link, his fingers almost trembling with anticipation, prepared to be disappointed.
The sense of shock that hit him was so startling that he pushed back his chair and stood up. It couldn’t be.
His muse wasn’t an anonymous stranger like they’d promised. He knew that face, knew those eyes. They’d met, what, twice? Three times? At Beckett’s engagement party, at the house once, and then the wedding. It had been hate at first sight. So, no. No way. There was no way in hell that his muse was Zac’s eccentric friend Harper.
Chapter Four
Harper sank back onto the couch, cooing to the tearful baby in his arms.
“Don’t cry, Henry. Your daddy will be right back.”
Luca was playing quietly on the floor, not bothered by his brother’s fussing. Harper was the one finding it a struggle. He stood up, rocking the baby as he paced back and forth. “Come on, little one. Why so glum today, huh?”
“He’s teething.” Zac padded into the room with a bottle in one hand and a teething ring in the other. “Give him this.” He handed over the ring, and Harper offered it to the baby.
Henry chomped down on it, gnawing at it like it was the tastiest treat.
“Hell, what’s in that thing, duck? Catnip?”
“The trick is to chill it in the fridge.”
They sat down, Harper arranging Henry in his lap so he could see his dad while Zac tucked his legs up under him.
“So, what’s up?”
Harper shrugged. “The usual.”
Zac raised an eyebrow. “You’re up to something, I can tell.”
“Well, an opportunity might have sort of… fallen… into my lap.”
The other omega groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not back with the pilot again, are you?”
“Roberto? No, of course not. He’s engaged and everything.”
“Then what? Come on, I’m living vicariously through you these days. I need details.”
Harper snorted, knowing it wasn’t true in the slightest. Zac had the life he’d always wanted—father to two beautiful boys, married to an architect and alpha who always put his family first. In comparison, Harper looked like a kid who’d never grown up. Still, he’d humor his friend. Zac’s heart was in the right place.
“I’ve been headhunted by an agency.”
A frown crossed Zac’s face. “Modeling?”
Harper could barely get a word out, he was laughing so hard. When he calmed down, he explained. “Yeah, right. I’d need to be a head taller for that, even as an omega. They want me to be a muse.”
Zac’s expression faltered, and Harper pre-empted his concerns.
“Don’t worry, I checked them out. They’re one of the reputable agencies. Inspire Inc.”