Page 6 of His Sassy Omega
I rolled my eyes, picked up my phone, and shot off a text to him.
Me:Have you been reading 00Q fan fiction again?
His reply was immediate and made me grin.
Wade:When am I not doing that?
I sent him back an eye-roll emoji and went back to reading his email.
You know he drools over your cookies, and the sweet scones, so he was over the moon about the savory. Though he tried to hide his excitement. You know he doesn’t fool me. He wants to schedule a sit-down, to go over specifics. Date, time, what he wants, how much, pricing. I’m thinking he is wanting to do this in two weeks. Give his ass a big upcharge for the late notice, and tell him I approved it.
I rolled my green eyes. This was going to be big money for the shop. Lachlan Sinclair ran The Sinclair Foundation, a massive charitable group which offered grants to small businesses. They liked to help localbusinesses as much as possible but also helped struggling, or new businesses, all over the country. They had a good reputation, and were noted for not only employing a large number of omegas, but also in backing omega-run businesses.
Lachlan Sinclair was a big deal, not just in Sweet Alps. He, or his foundation, or one of the many other Sinclair business holdings, made the national papers almost weekly. The Sinclairs were almost synonymous with Sweet Alps. The family line went all the way back to the town’s founding fathers.
Lachlan was the oldest of a set of identical quadruplets. That made news on any given day, not just in our little town. Even in the shifter world, quads weren’t a popular occurrence. The fact that all four of the quadruplets turned out to be alphas was an even bigger news story. When their father had passed, Lachlan had been made the Alpha of the family.
Catering a business party for him would be great for The Sweet Spot,with the potential to bring more business and revenue for us.
I knew from Wade that each December, Lachlan liked to give his employees generous time off. They usually shut the foundation offices down, except for a skeleton crew, from the second week of December until after the new year. Most people could work from home, but only if absolutely needed. He wanted his employees to enjoy the time off with their families. He made sure that no big gala or charitable events were scheduled for that time, which would cause his employees' extra work. Wade had also bragged that The Sinclair Foundation passed out generous monetary end-of-year bonuses to all employees, all the way down to the janitors that cleaned the offices.
I’d never met the man personally, but I knew he was hot as hell. All four of “the brothers”, as most people in town referred to them, were gorgeous. They all still looked almost identical now that they were adults, but therewas alwayssomethingabout Lachlan that had caught my eye in pictures. Stirred something deep inside me. I always ignored it.
I wasn’t looking for an alpha, or a mate – not after the last fiasco – but my cat could still recognize gorgeous. I always shoved away whatever feelings seeing a picture of Lachlan stirred in me. Since I knew I was not what the man was looking for in a mate, it didn’t serve me any good to get wrapped up in some lust-filled fantasy.
Wade and I had had many conversations about Lachlan over coffee. He liked to vent but also brag about the type of boss he worked for. I heard whenever Lachlan was in a relationship, as Wade would spill all the juicy gossip. Lachlan was on the hunt for a true, traditional omega. Soft, sweet, biddable,Leave it to Beaver, type omegas.
I always thought it was funny the type of omega Wade said Lachlan was looking for. Sweet Alps was one of the more progressive towns on the map when it came to omega rights. While the country as a whole had gotten much more progressive in the last forty years or so, there were still whole sections of people who stuck to the “old ways”. The mindset that omegas should not be educated beyond a certain age, that they shouldn’t be allowed to own businesses, handle their own finances, or even live on their own. Based on what I knew about how Lachlan ran his business, it surprised me whenever Wade said his boss was looking for a “good little” omega.
Something I most definitely was not.
I was taller than most omegas, which was a major turn-off for many alphas. Most omegas were five foot eight, or smaller, and I hadn’t stopped growing until I’d topped out at six-foot and a couple of inches. I took after my alpha father in height, and he and I looked eye to eye when we stood next to each other, towering over my much smaller omega mom.
I did have the willowy omega frame though. In fact, I thought I looked like a freaking string bean. I had some muscles, but you really couldn’t see them unless I was naked, and they weren’t huge ones. Gigi said I was lithe, like the cat I was.
I loved my independence, and I’d never felt the need to have an alpha take care of me. I made my own money, I had a successful business, and I didn’t need an alpha coming in, and taking over. Or expect me to quit my job and stay home, like a good little house omega, popping out babies and keeping my mouth shut. All “Yes, alpha” and “Whatever you want, alpha.”
No thank you.
Even if I did find an alpha that would look past all of my physical flaws, the minute I opened my mouth, it was usually all over. My mouth got me in so much shit. I was mouthy. I was snarky. I said a lot of cuss words. Like sailors-at-sea levels of swearing. I didn’t put up with anyone’s shit. I had sass and I wasn’t afraid to use it.
The type of omega Lachlan was looking for, was the same type my ex, Leo, had been looking for. The one and only time I’d attempted to get serious with anyone, it had blown up in my face so spectacularly, I was sure I’d never feel the need to do that nonsense again.
I knew Leo had wanted me to be a softer spoken, quieter omega, after our first date. A stay-at-home, and have babies omega. He’d made it clear what he’d wanted, but also made it clear he wanted to keep seeing me. After a few more dates, he’d confessed his undying love. I’d told him, repeatedly, I wasn’t ready for any of the things he wanted, and I didn’t know if I ever would be. I’d made it very clear that I strongly stood on the “I don’t want any kids” side of the fence.
The final straw had been when I’d popped into The Sweet Spot one Sunday afternoon, after visiting with Gigi at her retirement center, something I did every Sunday morning. We were closed, so there shouldn’t have beenanyone here, so I was doubly surprised to find not only the front door unlocked but voices coming from the kitchen. My kitchen. The place I didn’t let anyone in unless they had a tasting appointment set up. The fact that I recognized Leo’s voice immediately, had my anger at full throttle for so many reasons.
Finding Leo in said kitchen, with not only a realtor but also a prospective buyer, for my bakery, had nearly made my head explode. The fallout had been catastrophic as far as swear words were concerned. I’m not sure, but it’s quite possible that I invented some new ones that day.
Once the realtor and buyer had left, because of my over-the-top dramatics and the fact that there was clearly not going to be any kind of sale going on, I’d demanded answers from Leo. The first question was how the fuck had he gotten a key to my business. He’d admitted to making a copy from my keyring, one night when he’d slept over at my place. He’d made a pressed mold of the thing. Like something you’d see on a television show. Probably where he’d gotten the idea. Who the fuck even did shit like that?
In trying to win back my love – which he’d never had in the first place, but I didn’t feel the need to burst his bubble on his psychopathic daydream – he’d admitted that he’d needed the money from the sale of the bakery to put into his own floundering business.
When I’d pointed out the absolute absurdity of his plan, since he did not own even an inch of my bakery, he’d continued with how he’d planned to get me to marry him, and gain access to my funds that way. He’d also admitted to going through my personal papers, using the key he’d made to snoop in my house when I wasn’t home, and found out about my trust fund. A sizable trust that I would be coming into on my twenty-fourth birthday, in April.
Reason number ninety-seven why I didn’t let people come to my house for sleepovers, even someone I was ‘seriously’ seeing. Lesson learned.
Leo had laid out his plan of marriage, giving him access to my money, since everyone knew omegas didn’t have heads for anything financially related. His plan included me staying home to take care of the house, and the babies – plural – while he ran his business.
