Page 3 of Small Town Shy Omega
I donned my coziest oversized sweater, then slid into my nest.
I poked my nose out, my breath fogging my nook window. Outside, a light rain fell.
Was Blake outside gathering peaches? Was he tilling a plot of land, gathering the freshest fruit by hand?
Brown curls, pale cheeks, radiant smile.
I didn't forget the way his muscles bulged in his cotton shirt, warm and menacing.
Blake…
I wouldn’t forget his name, but I’d never talk to him again.
“It’s just such a shame,” I murmured, removing my glasses, “that I have no need for an Alpha in my life.”
I came backthe next weekend, and the next Saturday morning after that. Each time, Blake sliced me peaches, and put them in a little cup, with a small spoon, for me to eat.
I’d said I never wanted to see the fair Alpha in the cotton shirt, muscles bulging, a little chest hair curling out of his shirt, again. Clearly, I’d lied to myself.
“My pack is lovely, Layla. They’re not after mostOmegas we see in town.”
“Are you three new to the area?”
“We moved in a few years ago,” and Blake explained how his pack supported themselves with their construction business. He sold peaches from his backyard peach tree, he said, for extra cash.
I focused on my peaches, blocking out the soothing, radiant hum of Blake’s voice.
How like a man in my books he was,I thought, hiding behind the large strand of purple hair that fell over my glasses.
When I lifted my eyes, I saw two huge hands moving toward me… and Blake adjusted my hair.
Pushing it aside, he made it so I could see again.
“I’m not really looking for a pack,” I explained, peach dew sliding down my chin. “I rarely leave my nest, and my last few bonding arrangements haven’t really worked out.”
“Did you merely invite a pack in for heat relief, or because you were scent matches?”
“Heat relief,” I shrugged. “Thought it might lead to something more. Didn’t.”
“Shame,” Blake purred, and my heart pitter-pattered in my chest. “A pretty Omega like you should have some more serious Alphas in her life.”
“Serious?” I tried not to laugh.
“Fair Blake,” I said, advancing toward him. I set my peach cup on the table’s gingham tablecloth. “I know all about seriousness, and unfortunately most Alphas simply do not meet the bar.”
“Immature packs, then?”
“I’m fairly convinced they’re all the same,” I said breathily. “That’s why I am such a big reader.”
“The packs are better in your novels?”
“Oh, most yes.”
“And you use your novels for heat relief? As many Omegas do?”
A bluebird twittered by, its song mingling with the cardinals’ tweets. Vendors bagged vegetables in paper, the sounds of crinkly paper reaching my ears.
The palest blue sky shone overhead, only a few puffy clouds. And in my nose, the smell of hay from the surrounding farms, corn, fresh grass, and peaches.
