Page 11 of The Omega's Beary Merry Christmas

He raised his hand, stopping me. “I am. I won’t run you out of your own house, but I think you’re right. We might needanother place to stay through this cold. Would it be okay if we stayed in your guest room? Just until you can get the heater fixed. We won’t be a bother.”

I snorted. “Of course you won’t. And you’re welcome. I hope not to be a bother to you either. Do you need help packing up your things?”

“No.” Conrad shook his head. “Other than the refrigerated things, it’s mostly only a zip away from being unpacked.”

“Do you have a Christmas tree?” the young lady asked.

“I don’t. I-I never get one because I live alone.”

She shrugged. “Well, you won’t be alone this time.”

Having them under my roof was going to be difficult, but nothing in this world could stop me now. Perhaps this week was all I would be blessed with as far as having a mate near. I wondered where his alpha was that they were vacationing alone? Maybe business kept him away? I couldn’t ask because it was none of my business, but if I had a mate, I’d never let them be alone for the holidays.

And I would take this week and treasure it.

A breath of happiness was better than none at all.

Chapter Seven

Conrad

Packing ended up being a little more of a pain than I’d thought it would be. We were able to get everything into the cooler easily enough, but I had taken out more of the other items than I remembered.

Bert insisted on helping, and I let him. He didn’t seem to be doing it out of frustration—it was more like it genuinely made him happy and, in turn, that made me happy. Or maybe I was seeing things that weren’t there. But I couldn’t help it. There was just something about Bert.

Being around him stirred up a side of me I hadn’t experienced in a while and with that came a huge side helping of guilt, which was stupid. Mark had been gone for a long time, and it wasn’t like I was dating Bert or even wanting to. I was just allowing him to do some of the things that Mark once did.

Feelings were weird like that. They logically made no sense, and yet there they were, doing their thing. My brain knew there was absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. The rest of me needed to catch up.

We had everything stacked up at the door when I saw how bad the weather was getting. It was now a full-fledged snowstorm. A blizzard even. Had we been in the cabin all toasty and warm, I’d have loved it. The scene unfolding out the window was the stuff paintings were inspired by.

Except, there was nothing warm and cozy about this cabin, the temperature dropping rapidly. We needed to go through the bad weather, carrying a ton of our belongings. Not to mention, my duct-taped boots.

“I don’t know if my car will make it out of its spot.” The snow wasn’t too deep to walk in from what I could tell, but it wasdefinitely deeper than my old clunker could handle. If I managed to get it a foot, I’d have been surprised. “Maybe we can just carry it there.” It couldn’t have been too far, since Bert walked here, right?

“I’ll do it.” Bert wasn’t asking.

“No, that’s not right. We’ll help.”

“I’m strong.” Natalie flexed her arm muscles in an attempt to show how strong she was.

It was adorable.

How were things going from bad to worse and yet, at the same time, feeling like they were moving up?

“Listen, Conrad,” he suggested. “Why don’t you carry the small things, and I’ll get the large on the first trip? Then you can see just what you’re getting into and decide from there.” Bert bent down and picked up the cooler as if it weighed less than an ounce. It didn’t.

“I have my backpack.” Natalie grabbed it and pulled it over her shoulders. “But I’m strong, too. Remember, I can help with the cooler too.”

I hated to burst her bubble. The cooler wasn’t empty anymore, like when she’d brought it out of the garage to me. She’d felt like a superhero carrying it by herself, but now, even I would struggle.

“I’m sure you can, sweet girl,” Bert said, “but I’m going to take the cooler. Your dad will carry the bag of groceries, and you’ll bring your backpack. Then we’ll go from there.”

We trudged over to his place. It wasn’t far, and, on a summer day, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But in the snow, it was a hike and a half. His driveway went down the other way. My guess was even if I had gotten my car to the fork in the road, I wouldn’t have been able to maneuver it back up to his place. Walking was definitely the better option.

The duct tape was keeping the sole of my boot on, but snow was getting inside. My foot went from cold to painful to numb. The numb worried me.

We got inside and put everything down. Sure enough, it was the same setup as the last house, but it felt very different—like it had its own personality. That made sense; this wasn’t his brother’s house. It was Bert’s.

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