Page 8 of Alpha's Second Chance

He said nothing.

I got up and went to the shower. As I suspected, a fine layer of black mold covered every surface. It was preferable to looking at Owen’s bewildered face. It was hard to believe, but he really didn’t get it. I tried not to breathe in. I might have shifter immunity, but even a bear didn’t want to inhale germs like these.

All these years, and he hadn't truly understood why I left. I knew he was smart, but all those times I’d tried to talk to him about how I felt, he apparently hadn’t listened.

Oh well. It was better to know that upfront, than to get lost in a tangle of what-might-have-been.

Getting the stench of the body wash off was nice. This time I used the generic shampoo. It had a slightly industrial smell, like the soap at a sports arena or a concert hall. When I got out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a threadbare towel that barely covered my body.

“I don’t have any clothes.” I wrinkled my nose.“The smell of body spray is baked into the firefighter uniform.”

“I have your suit. From the courtroom but it smells like omega.”

“You have my suit? That’s creepy.”

“I was using it to find you, dammit.”

“You were tracking me like a dog!” I laughed at the look on his face. “I could call a friend to bring me something.”

“Too dangerous. I’ll get you something. There’s a thrift store nearby.”

I couldn’t wait to see what he came back with. “Owen.” I put one hand on my hip, still clutching the towel with the other. “I don’t wear knock-off clothes brands. I’m going to need you to find a boutique.”

He turned to face me, mouth slack, eyes wide.

I burst into laughter. “Some of the lessons from our clan stuck, and practicality is one of them.”

“Jeez. I thought maybe being a lawyer had gone to your head.”

“I work for the state, not a private firm. I haven’t bought a boutique anything. Ever.” Not to mention that most Denver boutiques wouldn’t have anything to fit me. They might advertise plus size, but my hips didn’t agree with pencil skirts in any size.

Like most prosecutors, I bought my suits off the rack. But I’d helped Melanie shop in boutiques plenty of times. Sometimes, I held the outfits up and laughed about how little fabric they’d cover on me.

Owen left, still shaking his head. At least he wasn’t petty. And he didn’t hold a grudge.

He came back with a pair of sweats, leggings and jeans for pants. For a top, he had a sweatshirt, t-shirt, and a tunic.

“Wow. Not bad. Maybe I need to check out the thrift stores more often,” I said. I let my arms fall down and eyeballed him. “Have you spent a lot of time with women whose clothes got ruined?

He blushed. I threw my head back and laughed again. “Seriously though, thank you.”

Some men I knew, human and shifter alike, wouldn’t have gone after clothes for me. Especially not after I’d yelled at them. I didn’t regret it though. Owen was pig-headed and obtuse about why I hated being an omega, but otherwise he was kind, and generous. It would never have worked between us, not if he still held the same primitive attitudes, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t get along now.

I took the softest set of clothes into the bathroom and pulled them on. When I came back out, Owen sat on one side of the bed, the one closest to the windows and door, staring straight ahead.

I couldn’t help but notice the way his shirt stretched across his biceps. I laid down on the other side of the bed.

He tinkered with the lamp, turning it on and off before lying down and facing the door. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

He didn’t reply.

“Look,” I said. I rolled onto my side and put my hand on his arm. Under my palm, his bicep was firm. I swallowed hard. It may have been the loss of the suppressants, but I wanted to run my hands up and down his arms. And then some. I wanted to press my mouth against his. I wanted to tuck my head under his, and inhale his masculine scent.

I moved my arm until I found his hand. I wrapped my hand around his and squeezed. “I may have changed, but you haven’t. I can tell you want to say something. Just spit it out.”

He squeezed my hand back. “I should have listened to you more. I wish I had.”

I tried to say something, but found that I couldn’t. It wasn’t an apology, exactly, but it was close. “Thank you. Now you know better. You can listen to others in the clan who might need their leader to stick up for them.”

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