Page 50 of His Innocent Omega
The main living space was a kitchen/living room combo, with enough room in the corner for a dining room table that seated four. The sofa was placed in front of a lovely stone fireplace, that appeared to have been made up of multi-colored river rocks, in shades of varying browns and grays.
A massive television filled the space above the fireplace, its length almost as long as the dark stained mantel. My eyes fell on the framed photos that lined the mantel, and I moved closer to get a better look. For some reason, Grayson had never struck me as the picture type of guy.
The first one was a picture of him and Jamie, both grinning broadly for the camera. Grayson was clean shaven, and his dimples were on full display, his eyes shining with merriment. I couldn’t tell where the picture had been taken, other than outside on a sunny day, the blue sky in the background. They both were younger, Grayson’s hair dark, without a speck of the gray in it that I found so sexy.
Next to it was a picture of Grayson shaking the hand of a former President of the United States. His face was set in the stern lines I had seen on our first meeting, the look in his eyes menacing to anyone who might be up to fuckery. He was wearing a tailored black suit, the white shirt crisp, and the red silk tie–the same tie he had bound my hands with–was giving a pop of powerful color. Power tie for a powerful alpha.
The next picture was much older, in black and white, and showed a smiling couple, standing outside a restaurant or bar. The sign above them proclaimed ‘Octavia’s’ and advertised the best shrimp boil around. The building had the architecture I’d seen in photos of New Orleans, even though I’d never had thechance to visit there. It was on my ‘Places To See’ list.
The woman, an omega, was tall and regal, stunning in her beauty. Her brilliant smile was white against her dark skin, her dark eyes shining even in the colorless photo. Looking at the nameless woman, I could see touches of her in my daughter. The shape of her face, her dark eyes.
The man beside her, his arm wrapped around her slim waist and pulling her close, was a tall, powerful looking alpha, with dark hair and light eyes. The color was hard to determine in the old photo. His pale skin was a marked contrast next to the woman.
Moving to the next photo, it showed the same couple, this time with a small boy smiling between them. The boy, who couldn’t be more than six or seven, had dark curly hair that fell over his forehead, and his wide smile showed off his missing front teeth. I could see traces of these people in Grayson. The dark eyes and hair. The slope of his nose, the high cheekbones. This was clearly his family.
Picking up the next picture, I peered at it closely. It was a graduation picture, a much younger Grayson smiling in his cap and gown, holding his diploma proudly. He couldn’t be more than eighteen, his face youthful. His hair was dark as night, unruly waves that weren’t quite curls flopped over his forehead because his hair was just a bit too long. His dimples were deep grooves in his cheeks.
He was flanked on either side by two handsome men. The omega had dark, curly hair, the same dark eyes and his skin was a lovely tawny shade. He looked like a grown-up version of the gap-toothed boy from the other picture. The alpha next to him had dark blond hair, blue eyes and ruddy cheekbones. This was the man who Grayson had inherited those dimples from.
“Those are my parents,” his deep voice made me jump, and I nearly dropped the picture I’d been holding. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
Righting the picture, I blushed, giving him a sheepish look. “I’m the one that should apologize. I was being nosy.”
He strode towards me, standing shoulder to shoulder, and studied the photos. “I told you to make yourself at home.” He picked up the black and white photo. “These are my grandparents, Octavia and Alcide Broussard.”
When he pronounced their names, his voice took on an accent that had been missing from his speech and their names rolled easily off his tongue, softening some of the syllables. “But they were just Mimi and Papaw to me.”
“She’s stunning,” I commented, then asked, tapping the background in the picture, “this is New Orleans, correct?”
“New Orleans,” he corrected my pronunciation, sounding very Southern, making the word roll together and sound like ‘N’awlins”. “My roots are creole, in case you were wondering.”
“You have no trace of an accent.” It was true; this was the first time I had ever heard a trace of any Southern roots in his speech. “Do you get back to Louisiana much?”
He smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “In my previous line of work, I often needed to adapt to different dialects. It took me a while to lose my accent, believe me. And I haven’t been back in ten years. Mimi and Papaw passed about twenty years ago, and my alpha dad, John, has been gone a little over ten years now. Papa was gone less than a year after Dad passed, of a broken heart I think. I sold their restaurant to one of the long-time wait staff. Haven’t been there since. Sweet Alps is home now.”
“I think Julianna looks a lot like your grandmother.”
His smile widened and was no longer sad. “She does. Ofcourse, babies’ features change all the time, so who knows who she’ll end up taking after before it’s all said and done.”
“I don’t see myself in her much at all,” I confessed, and I couldn’t keep the wistful tone from my voice.
“Come on, I’ll drive you to Jamie’s. I should probably try to show up on time since it’s my first day back at work.”
The drive to Jamie and Bash’s house only took about ten minutes. Grayson had explained on the ride over that he had bought the land his cabin was on from the Sinclairs. Jamie and all his brothers lived just a few miles from each other, on over a hundred acres of wooded land. Their mother, Mary’s, mansion was smack dab in the middle of the quads. They were close enough if she needed anything, but still far enough to have plenty of privacy.
Grayson pulled up behind my sensible SUV, letting his squad car idle. “Is riding in a police car on your list?” he teased, shooting me a crooked grin. “You can tick that box off, if it is.”
Shaking my head, I opened the passenger door. “Nope, can’t say it is. Thank you for the ride. Did you…want to come in and see her for a minute? I know you need to get going.”
“I’d like that, Wyatt, thank you. I’ve missed her the last couple of days. And you.” He ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, mussing it up. “I know why you needed me to stay away, though.”
He turned the car off and pocketed his keys. He caught my hand before I could knock on the door of the A-Frame log cabin. Frowning, I gave him a questioning look.
“Why don’t you drive her over on Saturday?” he asked, looking unsure of himself for the first time since we had met.
“The agreement says you’ll pick her up,” my brain ran through the pages of the document he himself had drawn up. Flippingthe pages in my head like I was flipping the pages of a book, I could see the writing on each page in my mind. “You pick up and I drop off.”
He ran a hand through his hair again, scuffing his boot on the wooden stairs of Jamie’s porch.
