“Oliver Rivera. Preferred name Ollie,” Layla said with a gentle smile. “Of Pack Rivera-Gunnarsson.” “We’ll get their scent cards while you look.” Marco winked. Juno ran a finger over the photo. God, he was cute. Definitely an Ollie and not an Oliver. The photo was a little dated, his hair was much scruffier now and she was pretty sure he had a few extra freckles too. But that boisterous smile, those shining eyes behind glasses — it was him. He was 27, Filipino/Australian and a photographer.
