Page 3 of Blooming for His Omega

He smiled as though coming in here and delving into his inventory for a friend was a good thing. A friend? Yes. Friends and friends only.

“I had a big order this morning, and these are the leftovers. I didn’t want them to go to waste.” He ignored my comment. “Have you eaten today at all, Cicek?”

His question struck me. “Oh, wow. I haven’t. I had coffee this morning. Does that count?”

He laid a white box with a clear plastic window on top in front of me. “No, it most certainly doesn’t count. Go on. I’m trying out this new box for people who stop in for a quick lunch.”

I opened the box, running my finger underneath the sticker with his logo. “Go on,” I found myself teasing. “Pitch the box to me.”

“What?” He chuckled.

“Come on. This is your newest creation. Pretend I’m a customer coming in to get something, and I can’t decide.”

Zion was a handsome alpha, not my usual type, but sexy and alluring in his own way. He had boy-next-door looks. Tousled brown hair. Fluffy around the middle, dad bod. A killer smile. Blue eyes that made me want to gaze into them for hours at a time. He wasn’t prideful or arrogant.

He was persistent as the moon though.

“I’m bad at this,” he admitted with a half smile.

I nodded. He sure was shy and I found it incredibly attractive. He didn’t puff his chest out or tell me how good he was at anything or everything. He was humble and modest. And in this shyness, there was a charm I found myself trying hard to resist.

“At least tell me what everything is.”

His half smile turned into a full one. “Chicken salad with grapes and pecans. Deviled eggs with a sprinkle of paprika. Whole grain crackers. Slices of muenster and gouda. Salami. Peppered, roasted turkey. Hot honey and two marzipan-stuffed dark-chocolate hearts. And a selection of raw veggies with dip. A new thing for me.”

By the time he was done, my mouth was watering—and only mostly for the food. The way he talked about food made me tingle all over. He took care and made almost everything in house. What he didn’t make himself, he ordered from particularly curated places, some in town and some not. He always bought the best quality items.

“And this.” He brought out a small bottle of sparkling apple juice and a cup.

“You thought of everything.”

He watched me as I dug into the food. As predicted, everything was divine, and in only a short span, I had finished the entire box.

“I can bring you more?” he asked, his warm gaze boring into me, warming my chest and all my other parts.

No. We could never be anything more than friends. It had to be this way. I wouldn’t ever live under the weight of an alpha’s expectations again.

“No, Zion. It’s too much. I feel awful for taking this all the time.”

He grunted, and a low rumble came from his chest. His bear, no doubt. “It’s really no trouble. I enjoy it. Usually people leave with my food and eat in their homes or at their work. Seeing someone enjoy my labors brings me happiness.”

My hedgehog purred a bit at the notion of bringing this big, brawny bear some joy. The animal within me was enamored with the bear inside Zion. I knew it. But, this time, I overrode his desires.

“I bet some flowers would brighten up your shop. The customers might enjoy them. Here.” I walked over to the refrigerated glass case and brought out my happiest bouquet of daisies and yellow and coral roses. I reached for a vase, but he stopped me with a hand up.

“I have one, Cicek. You already gave me a vase.”

I nodded, handing over the flowers. Our hands brushed, causing a shiver to spill over my body and into my veins. If I was another omega, I would admit how much this alpha appealed to me—how I could see myself mated to him.

But I was not that omega. And I would never be.

Chapter Four

Zion

I carried the bouquet to my shop, grabbed the vase holding the tropical blooms Cicek had given me the week before, and carried both into the back room to switch out the old for the new. No matter how often I protested that he did not need to offer me anything in return for the food I brought him, he always had a reason. Oh, these were about to wilt, or those had been ordered and paid for and not picked up. Perhaps a vendor had given him some extras for no particular reason. And though all those things might be true, I believed he felt like he needed to give me something in return for what I brought to him.

A small part of me wanted to hope he just wanted to give me something, but his reserved demeanor did not suggest an interest in me beyond that of a friendly neighbor. It would be easier to ignore him if he didn’t smell so amazing, a floral/herbal note unlike anything in his shop or any garden I’d ever visited. When he first arrived, I’d thought it was something in there, but on a couple of occasions when I’d watched the till for him for a little bit, I’d noticed the strangest thing. When Cicek left the premises, so did the scent. It was 100 percent him, and the most enticing thing I’d ever had the pleasure to breathe in.

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