Page 4 of Small Town Shy Omega
“Is that a problem?” My voice was sharp, stern.
Blake shrugged, tugging on the grass he gnawed between his teeth. “It’s your life, Layla. Whether you want to spend it buried within the pages of a novel, or be courted by some Alphas who’d really like meeting you… It’s up to you.”
“Courting?” I scratched my temple, and my glasses nearly slipped down. Stay up, please.
Blake was nonchalant—not too interested, not really eager at all. Just… listening. Probing. But not even probing that sharply, as if he couldn’t be bothered by my question.
“We don’t have an Omega,” Blake shrugged. “And you lack a pack.”
“And I don’t want a pack,” I said sternly, ensuring my gaze was pointed.
“You’re not in your heat, are you?”
I sighed, my cheeks flushing. “My cycle doesn’t begin for a few more weeks.” A little before the May blossom festival.
He nodded.
“That’s why I haven’t been able to scent you, beautiful. But I will soon. When my pack mates, Josh and Dreydon, show up to woo you, I bet you’ll smell divine.”
“Look, Blake. My cottage is in total disrepair, I have too many books on my TBR, and a pack bothering me at this busy moment will only distract me. Most packs… don’t really complement my life, and I have less stress when I’m single.”
“A pack should always make your life easier, fair Layla. You shouldn’t have to—" Blake’s voice trailed off, and he let out a growl. “Pick up after them. We are grown men, I promise you that. Grown Alphas. You won’t have to treat us like boys.”
“I have too much work,” I shrugged, not wanting to let him down harshly. “Thank you for the peaches, but I have to figure out how to…”
How to shingle my roof. How to re-grout my bathroom tiles. My garden fence was falling apart, and I could not lug the beams required to construct a new fence to its perimeter.
A gentle gust ruffled my hair, and I shivered as my parasol nearly fluttered away.
Blake reached out. He gripped my parasol—not too harshly, not invasively or anything like that.
Just… gripped it.
He held it tight, until the wind passed… until I could take it again.
“Layla,” Blake purred, and something romantic and… not at all sensible welled within me. “Allow us to court you, lovely. Serve you. Whatever you need, whether it’s physical labor on your cottage, or just a conversation partner, we’ll be there for you.”
I frowned, my cheeks rosy. I wished all my hair would blow down, so I could hide behind it.
“And you won’t press me?” I huffed, itching to cross my arms. “You won’t push me into things I don’t wish to do, won’t make me try things in the bedroom I have no desire to do?”
This was a lie: in my heats, I pretty much desired to do any and everything. And the novels I read gave me plenty of ideas.
Blake smiled, and it was a coy, charming smile.
Yet not too sweet—hardly even present, as if he was just smiling out of habit or the fleeting desire to be polite.
Blake turned away, letting go of my parasol.
“What’s your address?”
“One-oh-three Applewood Way,” I sighed, knowing I was behaving like such a Marianne.
Of the two sisters inSense and Sensibility,a wise Omega should always choose Elinor.
Sense was the consummate virtue for all Omegas. My heart was veering straight into the troubled waters of Sensibility.
Knock knock knock.
