Chapter 33
Did I blow the soup issue out of proportion earlier? Yeah, ok, I’ll admit I did. Was it mostly a reaction to an unknown alpha invading my space while my beta was in a vulnerable position? Probably. Am I going to apologize? I probably should, but no. I’m letting them stay at our home and feeding them. They’re both alphas, they should understand how bitchy we can get. Though, if they’ve never had an omega maybe they don’t get it. Still, it’s not my fucking fault.
We all sit around the table together eating dinner, and I’ll admit, it’s nicer than I imagined it would be. Kelly and Teddy take the two ends, and I sit with my back towards the kitchen. Making Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum take the far side, kind of cramped in by the wall. I could have moved the table a bit to give them more room, but once again, I’m feeling a bit possessive and petty.
I was really looking forward to taking Kelly, and probably Teddy, upstairs after dinner to make damned sure they were covered in my scent. Now Teddy looks guilty as fuck and Kellylooks like she wants to take the spare room by herself. What a shitshow.
“Ok, so, let me get this straight. What, exactly, did Teddy say?” All three alphas turn our gazes on my omega, who squirms lower in his seat, knowing he’s in trouble.
Steven is the first one to speak. “Well, um…sir.”
Oh, hell no!
I hold up my hand, stopping before he can say anything else to piss me off.
“Sam, it’s just Sam. How the fuck old do you think I am? Really?” Being called “Sir” seems to have triggered something. A really big part of me is frustrated, because the age gap already bothers me. Another, smaller, darker part of me would very much like Steven to call me Sir again, preferably with a lot fewer clothes on. Maybe while Teddy holds him for me.
What the ever loving fuck is wrong with me tonight?
Steven looks at me, a small shudder rippling through his body, and it seems I wasn’t the only one with that train of thought. Teddy’s eyes flick between the two of us and his smile looks positively predatory. Kelly—dear sweet, not as naive as she pretends to be, Kelly—continues on eating her soup, choosing to ignore the pheromones that flood the room while Garret lets out a choked wheeze.
He swallows thickly a couple of times, then his voice comes out in a cracked, “Sorry.” He swallows again, and he speaks a little clearer. “Sorry again about the soup. I…I don’t cook. I mean I try…Iattemptto cook, Iamwilling to learn. Things just seem to burn or melt when I enter a kitchen…occasionally burst into flame. There was that grease fire at the apartment that was totally my fault, but the other time, I was following directions, they were just wrong and the marshmallows on the s’mores brownies caught fire under the broiler…”
He’s looking a bit green now, and I guess I should be glad that overcooked vegetables are the least damage my kitchen suffered with him in here alone…for over a half hour…in an unfamiliar space.
Ok, yeah, I’m an ass.
“No,I’m sorry…shit, I didn’t mean to just drop that on you and take off. You’re a guest and that wasn’t proper. I got a bit distracted, but that’s no excuse for leavin’ you to do all the work.” Now Kelly’s blushing and looking at me. “Not that it wasn’t worth it, Sugar. But it wasn’t right to leave him alone, either.” Her gaze flicks between the two of us and she blushes harder. I’m not a hundred percent sure exactly what's going through that cute little head of hers, but it’s probably something dirty. For all she acts sweet and innocent, I remember coming into the basement yesterday and seeing her riding Teddy, and then sucking me off.
Fuck, I really am a dirty old man.
I pick my bowl up, draining the rest of my soup, and then mopping it out with my roll—then push back from the table. “Now, if y’all will excuse me, I need to go get some work done on the nest before bed. I was gonna try to get the Sheetrock up today so I could get the putty set to dry. Hopefully get it sanded down tomorrow and ready to paint. Though I wanna get Teddy’s opinion on texture first.”
The whole table looks at me like I’ve grown a second head, and I realize talking about the steps taken in reconstructing a room probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to anybody else. Now I feel like I just started rambling. Scooping up my bowl, I head into the kitchen to rinse it out and put it in the dishwasher. Living alone and subsisting on takeout, I rarely run the stupid thing, and it’s an old habit to keep the food from getting stuck on before I can wash it. Though, it’s not a bad idea to run it tonight with this weather. It’ll help keep the pipes from freezing.
Kelly comes in before I manage to escape out the other door, and I take her bowl to rinse and put in the washer as well. She’s shuffling from one foot to the other, looking like she needs to tell me something. “Hey, um…can I help with anything? I used to help Dad sometimes in his shop. It wasn’t anything professional, or…you know, big. But I can hold nails, or you can teach me?” This last bit is said with a touch of hopefulness, and I can’t help but soften at how sweet she is, how much she wants to be useful.
“Sure thing, Sugar. Let me go grab an extra pair of safety glasses for ya. Then I can show you how it’s done, ok?” I’m a terrible example; I rarely wear the stupid things unless I’m using the saw. But I don’t want to set a bad precedent when I’m teaching her. If she’s gonna learn how to help, she is gonna be protected while doing it.
Opening the back door, I get hit with a face full of freezing wind and snow. Shit. The sound of mad scrambling is the only warning I get before Jake slams into me, nearly knocking me out the door in his bid to go play in the snow. He should be good for the few minutes it takes me to pop over to the shop for glasses.
Sure enough, less than five minutes later when I get to the back door he’s dancing back and forth from side to side, glaring at me for letting him out in the first place. He noses me out of the way to get inside first, and the sound of his nails on the wood floor disappears into the living room before Kelly’s loud shriek. “Gosh darn it Jake! Your nose is frozen, baby. Don’t press it against me. Come on up here on the couch. Let's get you warmed up.” That dog is living his best life right now and Kelly is gonna spoil the shit out of the big lug.
Taking off my boots again so I don’t track snow through the house, I look in on the dining room where Teddy, Steve, and Garret are still eating. I’m not sure if they got more or are just going slow to not have to talk. Either way, it’s the work of amoment to collect Kelly and escape any more awkwardness to the nest.
Neither of my tool belts will fit her narrow hips, and if she’s going to be helping me, she’ll need the carrying capacity. I buckle my favorite one on and turn around to find that she’s extended the other to its longest setting and slung it over her shoulder like a bandolier. Screwdrivers and pliers hang at an angle from shoulder to hip, and she holds the drill up to her face with both hands, squinting at the side. She looks like she’s trying to audition for the part in some sort of action film.
Kelly Carpenter, construction commando!
Fuck, today has been too damned long.
Still, my chest gives a happy little squeeze remembering she now shares my pack name.
“Sorry, this was right over where the shoulder goes, and it’s too big for me.” She’s still squinting at the drill in her hands. “Jeez, Sam, how much does this thing weigh? It’s like lugging around a suitcase full of bricks.” Taking the drill from her with one hand, I take the battery pack off and set it on the workbench before handing the tool back.
She swings it around a few times in one hand. “Oh, yeah, no. That’s so much easier. Thanks!” When she tries to slide it into a new sling on the belt it refuses to go in at that angle and makes a loud thunk sound when it hits the floor.
“Shoot, sorry, lemme get that!” She bends to pick it up, but apparently forgets to calculate the extra weight of the tool bandolier she’s now sporting and starts to fall over. I manage to grab her shoulders and keep her upright, slipping the belt over her head so she can regain her balance. She smiles sheepishly as she takes it from me and puts it back on its hanger on the tool bench. She looks around the room, probably wondering what else she can hurt herself with, so I hand her a box of screws, a level, and a tape measure she should be able to clip on her jeanspocket. Her hands are now full, so hopefully she won’t pick up anything else that might cause injury.
