Page 34 of Small Town Shy Omega
“If only I’d known you were so handy earlier,” I sighed, hearts in my eyes.
Josh smeared grout on the tiles, then carefully wiped down the edges of my tub.
“An Omega should never suffer in a bathroom so dated, Layla. You deserve a brand-new bathroom—so much of this space is beautiful, with such incredible antique furniture, but you have to maintain it.”
“I can maintain it,” I snapped quickly, hovering by the door.
“I know you can,” Blake smiled, a big warm wave radiating from him. “But with your Alphas around, why wouldn’t you put them to work? We’re here to protect and serve, Layla. Nothing more—it’s hard-wired in our blood, it’s our duty.”
“But you’re a poet, Blake,” I murmured, my pulse thrumming as my fingers lazily crawled to my neck. I had to pinch myself to ensure I wasn’t dreaming.
“And?”
“And,” I muttered, confused myself now, “and poetic men typically don’t…Dothings like this.”
Blake growled, brawny arms snapping to attention. “See these arms, Layla? They live—they breathe—in service of you.”
“Oh, Blake…”
“Put me to work,” Blake demanded, and I could tell he was being earnest. He wasn’t just saying it, like some other Alphas in my past had done. “Make me your worker. My duty is to ensure your house is spic and span, and safe enough for you to nest in.”
That afternoon I crocheted for four hours straight. My Alphas re-grouted my bathroom, snaked my drains again, and cleared my gutters. Dreydon nearly toppled off the ladder, but I smiled as the shouts rang out—he wouldn’t have wanted me to disturb myself, crocheting was hard work too.
“Look,” I breathed when Dreydon, Josh, and Blake came in, they’d all been ripping out my old gutter guards. They said they were a scam—and not knowing about gutter guards, I trusted their judgment. “I made you patches!”
Josh held up his patch… it was a silly, worthless pink yarn square, but it held part of me. Part of my soul.
Blake lifted his blue patch of yarn, and he turned his eyes on me.
And Dreydon?
Well, he pressed his red patch of yarn to his chest.
“I can’t crochet much,” I mumbled, eyes embarrassedly focusing on the floor. “I can only do patches.”
“Oh, Layla,” Dreydon growled, crossing the living room and taking me in his powerful arms. “Layla, this is… beautiful, darling”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Josh said sweetly, holding me tight. “Babe, you’re a… genius. This patchwork is… absolutely stunning.”
Blake held his patch in his hand.
“It’s blue, Blake,” I whispered, hoping he enjoyed it. “Just like your eyes.”
When Blake turned his eyes up, I saw it.
One single, solitary tear—it trailed down his cheek, and no more fell.
“I’ve spent all afternoon re-grouting your tiles,” Blake growled, walking toward me. His arm wrapped around my waist. “Dreydon and I risked our lives removing your gutter guards. He nearly fell off a ladder. When I look at this… It’s all worth it, Layla. You are perfect, beautiful, and oh-so-radiant.”
Tears blossomed in my eyes.
“Do you mean it, Blake?”
“Yes,” he rasped, calloused fingers cupping my chin. “My Omega, you are so precious. So caring and sensitive. So sweet.”
I thought he would kiss me.
Blake was the one man I hadn’t kissed.
