Page 70 of Night Call

“Sal’s a legal secretary,” Maya said, leaning forward to wrap an arm around the other omega’s shoulders. “Should be running the company, shouldn’t you, babycakes?”

Sal flushed, tugging Maya’s arm away. “Nah. I’ll leave that to the ‘alpha-holes’ with their big cars and even bigger egos. Honestly, they spend more time negotiating plea deals than actually getting justice for the victims—ah!” she hissed, rubbing her shoulder. “Turns out, concrete’s hard and so are drain covers.”

Pember grimaced and gave her a sympathetic smile. Despite feeling like a prized pig being appraised at a county show, he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying himself. Plus, the outfit looked bloody brilliant. A navy button-down shirt with billowing sleeves and little silver roses embroidered on the tips of the collar. The straight-cut black jeans rode low on his hips, hugging his thighs and arse.

Maya ruffled his hair, and he had to admit that he did look just about ready to be ravished by some bare-chested man on the back of a galloping stallion.

“Shoes? What about shoes?” Sal said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Boots, or dress shoes?”

“W-well, I—” he began.

Maya scoffed. “Dress shoes, obviously. Show off those delicate ankles.”

Sal waved the comment away. “Nah, I reckon a pair of Docs. Grunge it up a bit. Tiny bit of kohl in the corners of his eyes. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Ladies,” Paul called from within the shop. Moments later, he appeared by the curtain. “Stop pecking the poor guy, he looks positively done in.” Paul grabbed Pember’s wrist and tugged him out of the changing room. “Come on, let’s get you something you actually want.”

Two hours. For two bloody hours the girls had him trying on clothes. Eventually, he settled on the blue shirt and jeans combination, as well as a pair of dark tan Chelsea boots. He’d also decided to buy a decent pair of walking boots, because his trainers looked about ready to give up the ghost. Thankfully Paul gave him a discount.

“Nice place you got,” Maya said, pressing her elbows into the table as she sipped from one of Pember’s chipped mugs. “Rent’s decent?”

He nodded. “Not bad, but that’s probably because it comes with an extremely loud neighbour and her very chatty parrot.”

Chuckling, Maya traipsed to the kitchen window, coffee cup still in hand. “And the sergeant? Is he the one at the end?”

Something about her interest caused a spike of irritation between Pember’s shoulder blades. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Maya with the information, it was just… well, now that hethought about it, he selfishly wanted to keep that knowledge all to himself.

Silly, really. Stupid, in fact.

“There are some really great hills over the back there,” he said, pointing out of the window.

Maya’s eyebrow twitched when he changed the subject, but she only nodded. “Ah, hence the walking boots. How’re you getting on with everything? Any crippling depression from not having a pack, or whatever the National Health Service reckons might happen if we strike out on our own?”

Pember shrugged.

Maya sucked her teeth. “Still can’t be easy though, right? Not havinga big strong alphaabout the place, or whatever shite society spouts.”

That was the understatement of the fucking century.

“Not bad. Mum’s not happy, but…” He took a breath, reminding himself not to dwell too long onthatparticular subject. “I keep myself busy, and the place is slowly coming together.” He glanced around the living room, nodding quietly to himself at all the progress he’d made. He had a side table next to the sofa, a picture of a sunset beach above the fireplace and a potted plant in the corner.

“Is this a cello?” The sound of Maya’s fingernails drumming the top of the hard case knocked him out of his thoughts. On instinct he lurched forwards, brushing her fingers away.

“Y-yes,” he said, patting the back of her hand, trying to play it off in the most awkward way imaginable. “Sorry, it’s… it’s my sister’s and I?—”

“Play me a song,” Maya said, the corners of her mouth quirking up. She slid her hand from Pember’s grasp and placed it back on top of the case. “For me?”

She was staring at him in that unnaturally hard way again. It was a look that made him feel like the rug was being pulled out from beneath his feet.

“No,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. They stared at one another for several seconds, until Maya eventually sighed and pulled her hand away. “Only trying to get you to loosen up a little, Pem. Nothing personal.”

“I know,” he replied, guilt gnawing at his insides. “I know, sorry. I just?—”

Maya pulled away, turning towards the kitchen. “And this coffee is fucking ace. Love the new machine.”

Just then, Cherry let out a loud squawk from the other side of the wall, making them both jump. Pember let out a breath, silently relieved. “Duty calls,” he said, pointing towards the oven.

“You cook for her? That’s so sweet.”

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