Steve knows that.
I wonder if this is supposed to be some sort of reconciliation from him being a douche earlier.
Once Kelly’s up, she offers her hand to help me up. I don’t want to risk pulling her back down though. I love this girl, but she'sthemost uncoordinated individual I’ve ever met.
Garret heaves a put-upon sigh and offers his hand as well, which I have no problem taking, and need more than a little restraint to keep from yanking him down onto the floor with me. He’s still on my shitlist too.
Kelly leads the way up the stairs, followed closely by Garret and me, vying for who gets to walk directly behind her and watch her ass sway from side to side. We both lose when Jake shoves us out of the way, almost knocking us both down so he can press his cold wet nose against the back of her knees, causing her to squeal and stumble.
Garret’s there before I have a chance to react, scooping her into his arms and out of Jake’s reach. He makes it to the top of the stairs in three long strides and sets her down, safe on the flat surface. He must have noticed that she’s uncoordinated too.
Jake prances in front of us, leading us all into the dining room, and Kelly grabs the table, pulling it away from the wall so Vee and Garret won’t be so wedged in this time. She stares back and forth between Garret and me, holding her finger up to her lips in the universal sign for quiet. Her smile makes my chest ache. It’s so sweet, and it seems like Garret feels it too.
She turns and walks into the kitchen, and I hear her ask Sam if he needs any help. Vee’s voice answers back something snarky, but Sam’s growl is loud and clear in reply, followed by, “I appreciate it, Sugar. But you go relax. He made this mess, he can clean it up. Breakfast’ll be ready soon. Oh, can you please ask Teddy what kind of tea he wants this morning?”
There’s the sound of someone snorting, and then a smack. Finally followed by Vee’s voice in a whiney, “Sorry, Kelly.” So, I guess Sam got tired of his shitty attitude towards our beta too. Good to hear it.
Kelly’s lips blow across the top of her cup of coffee as I stare longingly at it. Fuck, I miss coffee. They mostly had decaf at the omega center—we’d sometimes get to go out in groups to the mall where they have a Starbees—and fuck me but I would give just about anything for a fucking double shot espresso right now.
She smiles sweetly at me, blowing another cool breath across the steaming surface. Then she starts giggling. “Sorry, Teddy, I couldn’t help myself.” She giggles again, putting the cup on the table. “This is yours if you want it, I picked up decaf at the store yesterday. It’s instant, ’cause I’m pretty sure everybody here needs their caffeine fix. I wanted to tease you with it...but I can’t if you keep looking at my drink that way.”
“Looking at it what way?” Ok, yeah. I’m still staring at the mug, the little curl of steam coming off the top.
“Like you wanna make slow, passionate love to my coffee. Whisper sweet nothings into its bitter black deliciousness.” She’s back to giggling again as she runs her fingers over the rim of the cup.
Well, shit. She’s probably not wrong. I can’t see my face, but I’m sure there’s some longing there.
Fuck.
“Just give me the fuckin’ cup, Pixie. Especially if you want me to do any of that to you later.” Her giggles cut off with an abrupt choking sound and three growls start up around the table.
Gods save me from possessive alphas.
Ok, well, Sam’s doesn’t sound possessive exactly, at least not in an angry way.
Kelly smiles at me and slides the cup to Sam, who passes it on to me, along with a sugar bowl and bottle of heavy cream. “Sorry Teddy, I forgot to tell you when I was unpacking groceries yesterday.” It’s ok, I can forgive him, more so after I finally get to drink this. I add two sugars and a splash of cream and moan when the flavor finally hits my tongue. Shit, I sound like I’m doing something naughty with this coffee.
Oh, well, fuck it. I missed this.
Sam gets up and goes to the kitchen, returning with a platter full of pancakes. Vee already brought out plates and butter and syrup, then a few jars of jams and jellies. He leaves those beside my spot, so I move the whole lot to the server so everyone can have access. I don’t want to bogart the strawberry preserves...I don’t even like strawberry preserves on my pancakes, so who knows what’s up with that. I thought for sure he’d remember that I only like butter and maple syrup. My whiny inner omega pouts a little that he forgot. Shit, it’s been long enough, I shouldn’t be surprised.
Still the look on his face is kind of smug when he sees me set all the extras away from myself, and he throws Sam a snarky look.
Nope.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Just going to eat these fucking pancakes.
Eat these pancakesandnot deal with crazy alpha bullshit.
Nope. Sam put four of them on my plate, two look delicious, tall and fluffy, and they smell so damned good my mouth waters. The other two look more like half cooked dumplings. They’re pale and look gummy. I glance around the table, and no one else has these horrors on their plate. When I meet Sam’s eyes, he just nods and focuses back on his own plate. Vee watches the exchange blatantly, not even trying to be sneaky now.
I feel bad wasting good syrup on the abomination pancakes staring back at me from my plate. Better to get those out of the way first and use the others as a palate cleanser. Pouring a healthy dose of maple goodness over the top I try to cut into one, and it’s like trying to saw through a flip-flop with a butter-knife. You know you’ll make it eventually, but it’s probably not worth the effort. Finally, I just give in and stab the entire damn thing, I can tear it apart with my teeth easier than this.
Raising it to my mouth I take a bite and it feels raw and doughy on the inside as hard as old boot leather on the outside. But the taste. Dear gods. It tastes like straight baking soda. That overly bitter slightly-soapy sweetness that makes my gag reflex react just from the flavor. What the ever-loving hell did Sam just feed me.
My eyes water as I spit the bite I managed to tear off into a napkin and head for the kitchen to throw it away and get water. It takes two glasses to finally get the flavor out of my mouth, and I lean over the sink praying to the cooking gods that it’s not going to make a repeat performance.
