Page 2 of Sizzling for His Omega

I turned on the twinkly lights and observed my yard at night. I’d had a local landscaper in and when he promised me he would make me a relaxing oasis, he hadn’t lied. If I hadn’t worked so late into the night, I would take a long nap in my hammock while I gazed at the stars and inhaled the fragrance of the lavenderbeds. Chuckling, I crouched down to check on the lone pumpkin growing in a patch off to the side. I always grew one this time of year and then carved it into a jack-o’-lantern for the front porch.

Eventually its carcass would go to the next-door neighbor’s chickens. He claimed they loved my pumpkin remains every year and would give me eggs in return. I loved the cycle of giving and receiving and especially in Oliver Creek.

We were more than just a destination for tourists coming to enjoy our growing food experiences. We were a community.

My stomach rumbled and I went inside, determined to make some dinner, but hunching over my work had given me aches that put a halt to my cooking plans.

So…what to eat? Cold cereal held no appeal.

Oh, there was that new Greek place in town. I’d gotten a flier in the mail, and there was another one posted on the community board at the coffeehouse.

I found the mini poster stuck to my fridge with a magnet and called in an order for a chicken souvlaki plate, along with extra pita and hummus for the next day. I was tempted to order a triangle of baklava, but something sweet this late at night would only make me have bad dreams.

Yeah, I was at that age where I had to watch those things.

While I waited, I showered and got dressed in a black T-shirt and gray pajama pants. It was cool enough for a hoodie, but my jackal would rev my body temperature up to comfort level.

I was about to go to the fridge and grab a cheese stick to tide me over when a car pulled up the driveway, its headlights shining in the front window. The doorbell was on my list to fix or replace, so I tried to get to the door before the delivery driver pushed the button.

When I opened the door, my heart stopped in my chest.

Walking up the stairs was quite possible the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was dressed in a T-shirt that readAllTaste, No Togas. He had short brown hair and big brown eyes. My jackal stirred inside me.

He wanted him. Instantly.

That had never happened before.

“Leon, correct?” His eyes widened. I looked down to see another thing on my list, a warped porch board, catch the man’s foot and, before I could stop it, the man was flying toward me.

The fear in his eyes made me reach out, but his trajectory couldn’t be stopped. I managed to get in front of him and keep him from hitting the hard porch boards, but in the meantime, my food went flying, painting me with hummus and salad and chicken in the process.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Chapter Three

Tobias

How could this possibly happen? Upon examination, I noticed what I should have before leaving the restaurant. The thermal bag had not been zipped. Of course. The delivery person usually checked the order against the food inside to make sure they had everything. It was a rule I put in place after a couple of goofs. Not that the cooks erred, but the delivery riders grabbed the wrong bags and took them to the wrong people.

So, I had no one to blame but myself for having not checked and then closed the bag. I’d been in too much of a hurry to meet this man to follow procedures. What a great example I’d been for my staff. And as to gaining a new customer—or not losing one if he had enjoyed our food before?

Incredible job, Tobias.

As my brain stopped yelling at me, I became aware of the fact that his hand was firmly in the middle of my chest, keeping me upright despite the mess I’d made of him from the top of his head to the tips of his bare feet. His black T-shirt was coated with hummus and chicken grease along with colorful spices on his gray pajama pants. His feet might have been sexy if they weren’t coated with lettuce and feta dressing.

I wanted to die.

Or at the very least crawl into the darkness under the porch and hide until he went back inside. His hand burned into my chest as if there was no fabric between his skin and mine, and I felt the loss when he removed it to brush at the food clinging to his clothes. “That’s personal service,” he rumbled in that voice…who knew jackals could sound like that? “You okay now?”

Not really. “I-I’m not going to fall over, and have no more food to throw at you. I’m so incredibly sorry. This is not how wedo business.”

He chuckled. “Somehow I didn’t think so. Everything smells good. Next time, just leave it in the containers, okay?”

My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. How could he stand there looking so completely in control when I’d been so incredibly unprofessional. “It was totally my fault.” As if it was possibly anyone else’s. “I forgot to close the bag. It has this zipper, you see?” I held up the empty thermal, showing him. “And if I had closed it, then when I tripped like a total klutz, you wouldn’t have been all covered with food.”He knows that! Or at least he could figure it out.“I’ll get your clothes cleaned if you want to take them off, I can take them with me…oh goddess! I didn’t mean it that way.”

The man, Leon, stayed calm even through that insane tirade, but his eyes widened slightly, and he probably wanted to step back inside his house and lock the door.

But my mouth was running miles ahead of my brain. “You know I didn’t mean that, right? About taking off your clothes. Not about cleaning them. I’d be happy to pay for the cleaning and I seem to have damaged your porch, somehow.” I had no idea how, but one of the boards was out of place or broken. “I don’t have a lot of money, but can I offer you free food for life? Or as long as the restaurant is open. If I keep throwing food on people, it may not be long. I’ll write you a check. Wait…” I didn’t have any checks on me. I didn’t even have a personal checkbook, just the big one for the occasional company expense that couldn’t be paid any other way.

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