Page 61 of Claiming Their Omega

I shrug. “I don’t really need those around the ranch.”

“But you love them.”

“Do you want me wearing something impractical while I’m trying to help gather eggs from the chickens?”

“I’m just saying. You might need something. If we go out somewhere nice.”

“Uh huh.” I look over at the boutique across the street. “I can get myself a dress if it’ll make you happy.”

“Making you happy will make me happy,” Hendrix replies, his tone far more sincere than I expected.

I’m starting to suspect that Hendrix is much more sincere and has a lot more depth than I’d given him credit for.

We get into the store and I browse, holding up different dresses and seeing how the colors look against my skin. There’s this pretty yellow one that draws my eye, a soft buttery color. It’ll be short, showing off my legs, and it’s got an embroidered waistband with flowers that seem to be daisies.

I can feel myself smiling. When I look over at Hendrix, he has this soft, fond look on his face. “You want it.”

“Well, let me try it on first to see if it even looks good on me.”

“Trust me, it’ll look good.” He follows me to the dressing room anyway.

I try the dress on. It fits, and it does seem to look nice. “I’m coming out.”

Hendrix’s brows rise as I step out of the room. “Wow.”

“Yeah?” I do a little twirl. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Well then.” I look at myself in the three-way mirror. It really does look pretty on me. I like it a lot. “If you’re sure…”

“Oh, I’m sure. Go change back before half the store falls in love with you.”

“Flatterer.” I go back into the room and try to ignore my racing heart. “I’m paying you back for all this, you know.”

“Uh, no you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I have my own job and everything. I’m not a child. And just because I’m an Omega doesn’t mean I can’t pull my weight.”

“I never said that. And don’t let anyone else in society say that to you, either.”

“I’m going to get my job back,” I insist when I get back out of the changing room, dress in hand. “I’m going to get on with my life. And when I do, I want to pay you back for your kindness. I’m not taking advantage of you or your wallet.”

“You’re always so stubborn.” Hendrix smiles at me. “That’s how I knew you’d succeed.”

“Oh? You—you thought that, huh?”

“Yup. I always knew if any one of us was getting out of this town and making something of themselves, it would be you. I wasn’t surprised when I heard you worked in publishing. I just thought it would be as a writer.”

I stare at him as Hendrix takes the dress from me and goes up to the counter to pay for it. “A writer?” My voice comes out a bit strangled.

He pays and takes the bag they put the dress in, then gets the door for me as we walk out. “Yeah. I remember your short stories in English class. I thought they were great.”

“Oh. I didn’t know. We weren’t in the same class.”

“I know. I saw you throwing something away once and it was right on top so I grabbed it, you seemed so upset. It was this story you’d written. I…” Hendrix trails off, then rubs at the back of his neck. “I still have it, actually.”

I know what story he’s talking about. Maybelle had ripped it out of my hands and read it out loud in a mocking voice, calling me a nerd, laughing at my silly dreams. I’d thrown the story away, convinced I was a terrible writer, that I would never be good at what I really wanted.

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