Page 3 of Alpha & Omega

Pippin rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We’re not talking about marriage, Alpha. Just get out for some fun. You’re all… work, work, work.”

The rest of them mumbled in agreement.

It wasn’t about having fun. I’d been there, done that. I wanted something real and lasting, but that shit scared me, too, and a big reason for the procrastination. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get laid, either, which would also get everyone to leave me alone.

“Ugh, you all are being really overbearing right now. Fine! I’ll… see if I can find someone to hook up with, if it’ll get you all off my back. Jeez…”

“We’re only pushing you because we love you,” Stix chimed in.

They all laughed in agreement and affectionately clapped my back before heading out.

“Damn busybodies,” I mumbled to no one, though I said it more out of affection than irritation. I shook my head and smiled. It was nice to be cared about, even if they were being pains in the ass.

It was after three in the morning by the time I walked up to my apartment above the bar. At least I didn’t need to fucking drive anywhere.

I took a quick shower, hating the smell of alcohol on me before bed. Whenever I tended the bar, I’d always spill on myself, especially when it was busy.

I pulled on some underwear and climbed into bed, but instead of sleeping, I opened the app store on my phone and searched for a dating app. Maybe my crew was right. I just needed to get laid, and then I’d be good. I just had to remember to go into it with no expectations. But if I was going to go through all the trouble, I kind of wanted more than a quick fuck.

I ended up picking out MatchVibes. After setting up my profile and listing my likes and preferences, I shut off the phone to go to sleep. Once I had some matches, then we could chat and exchange pictures.

The app’s purpose was for users to get to know each other online first, showing that interests and personalities took precedence over appearance. I wasn’t sure how well that worked, especially for sex, but whatever.

No expectations, Kingston.

AftermixingtheCaesarsalad dressing, I put it in the refrigerator to chill. Then I grabbed the bag of mussels I purchased at the harbor this morning, put them into a strainer, and rinsed them in cold water before I scrubbed them. A few weren’t fully closed, so I tossed those.

I loved cooking, which was why I chose to be a chef. I hadn’t attended the best culinary school because they were expensive, but I learned enough to allow me to be creative and finally open my own restaurant and bar six months ago, which had been a dream of mine. It took forever to get itdesigned exactly as I wanted it. Admittedly, I was proud of myself. Not bad for only being thirty-four.

Fine dining wasn’t really my style, but I tried to create something unique in my cooking. I wanted it to be casual, with delicious fusion recipes and a fun atmosphere. Already, the place had become a hit, and my success looked promising, but I couldn’t slack off. Competition among restaurants could be fierce as hell. You had to add your own style and flair and then pray it was catchy enough and the food delicious enough to keep the crowd coming back for more.

Owning a restaurant and dealing with people went against my introverted nature, but as long as I was in the kitchen creating, I was in my zone and happy.

I set the strainer full of muscles in the sink and poured olive oil into the heated Dutch oven. Once it was ready, I tossed in the minced garlic and shallots.

“You know, just once, I’d love a regular hamburger,” Hudson said.

I craned my head to glance back at my beloved son, sitting at the kitchen island, studying for a final. He was my mirror image with hints of his pathetic mother in there, but I wouldn’t have had him had I not been with her.

When people saw Hudson and me together, they always assumed we were brothers. We shared the same dark hair that fell to our shoulders and the same chocolatey-brown eyes. Except I was more tanned, and he was pretty pale, like his mother. I had only been eighteen when he was born, so it wasn’t always easy to tell that I was old enough to be his dad.

“Uh, are you so flooded with your studies that you’ve forgotten I’ve made you hamburgers before?”

He gave me a deadpan look before he rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about a basic hamburger,Dad. You know, the dripping kind with ketchup, mustard, and grease? Not the ones you make, cooked in duck fat, smothered in brie cheese, caramelized onions, arugula, and truffle aioli.”

“Oh, comeon… I made a great burger.”

Hudson rolled his eyes again, a perpetual look from my beloved teen. “You realize junk food once in a while is good for the soul, right?”

I smiled as I sautéed the garlic and onions before adding fresh herbs, Aleppo pepper flakes, salt, and pepper.

“Don’t you like your old dad cooking for you?”

“First, you’re not old. You’re not even thirty-five yet. Second, you’re an amazing cook, but sometimes I want to be like other kids and just eat crap. Third, don’t you want to take a break from cooking since you do it for work, too? Aren’t professionals against bringing their work home or something?”

“Be still my heart. My teen doesn’t think I’m old.”

“Ugh, way to miss the point, Dad.”

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