Paul looks at my plethora of cans on the counter before smiling and shaking his head. “I thought you might need this.” He waggles the demonic trolley in my direction. “You never realize how much you need until you’re balancing three jugs of milk and trying to carry a loaf of bread without crushing it, man.” I look at what he’s already put into it and see a couple of small chisels, a box of finishing nails, and some wood screws. He didn’t need the stupid thing; he just got it for me, and I feel like he deserves a hug as thanks, but he’d probably just brush it off as not being manly enough.
Not that Paul goes into the whole toxic masculinity thing. He’s super relaxed about showing affection at home, but he’s also a private kind of guy. It’s not like we have any sort of relationship other than familial, but I like to think we’re close enough that we can talk about anything. Lots of guys have problems with emotional constipation, but Paul is cool. Al has problems with itsometimes; he doesn’t want to tell me why he’s so against having an omega, but I’ll find out, eventually.
I smile my thanks at him and load up the cart he brought over before taking it off his hands and starting up the main aisle, keeping an eye out for Al. He said he needed a couple of tools, but he didn’t go in the same direction as Paul when we came in, so I double back and sure enough, he’s standing near the checkout lanes, scrolling through his phone with a look of concentration. It’s probably his email—even when he’s off work for a week, he can’t seem to stop. The guy needs to take a break for his mental health. I swear, he doesn’t have an off button for his brain. How does he even sleep?
He looks up as we approach, taking in all of my paint cans in the cart and shaking his head, a small smile on his face. “So, Spence, what exactly are you doing in that room? I mean, aren’t you supposed to wait for the omega to make decisions on what she wants?” His logic is sound, there’s no denying that. But if we bring someone home, I want them to feel at home. I want them to see the potential of all of us, not just a big empty space. Plus, it’s just paint. We can change it whenever we need to. Also, when I saw the skylight, my brain just threw out a whole bunch of ideas; it would be a shame to waste them. I’m not sure how exactly I can get all the swirls and colors looking just right, but that’s what the internet is for.
Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t picturing the sweet omega from this weekend all cozy and cuddly, tucked into a room I designed. Even just lying on the floor with me, watching the stars through the skylight while I try to pick out the different stuff I’m going to paint on the walls. It might never happen. I know she’s just visiting.
Maybe I’m trying to manifest my desires through visualization and planning. Or maybe I’m just hoping like hell to run into her again at work. Her beta, Greg, said that she isn’t exactly lookingfor a pack, but I seemed like a nice guy and he asked if I was interested in getting to know her better. I couldn’t help laughing, because of course I want to get to know the pretty little woman better, even if she just needs a friend, like Kelly. I like having friends.
He tried to choke back a laugh at my answer…I’m not sure which part was so funny. Maybe I sounded like an idiot saying that I like making friends, but so what? It’s true. And it doesn’t hurt to be nice to people. You can always be an asshole later if you need to. Mom always said you never get a second chance to make a first impression.
Chapter 36
There’s a small emergency nest store on campus, but mail order seems to be the most common way to get new supplies. I hate both options because the campus spot is so limited, and when you order through the mail you never know how things are going to feel, or look…or smell. There have been some really rank deliveries to the dorm, and I don’t want to be one of those.Ugh.
But I also haven’t been to a big nest store in years, not since I first presented, so my nest back at school is pretty sparse. Most of my pillows have gone flat, and while a lot of blankets just get softer with age…it happens right before they disintegrate. We have a different chain of stores in California, but this one should still be able to ship stuff home for me. Plus, we’re getting out, spending time with Teddy, and having lunch after the store. It’s win-win, really. My best friend is on my left side, with Sam nextto him, holding his hand. I just want to squee at how cute they look together, and while I’m not perving on my bestie’s alpha, his accent is something else. What is it about that deep, twangy voice that makes me shiver? Ugh. Greg laces his fingers through my right hand as we cross the parking lot. He sometimes has a similar twang, but he works hard not to show it.
Garret, Kelly, and Steve opted to stay in the car this time. Kelly volunteered her alpha for me to use in case security here wanted to be obtuse about Greg being with me, but I told her if it comes to that, I’ll just kick somebody’s ass and walk out. I have other options.
That was a lie, and I don’t have any better options. I doubt I could cozy up enough to any of these guys and pretend they were mine without laughing my ass off. But I’ve also been avoiding making this trip back home because I couldn’t handle having my family take me and listening to them criticize my life and probably my nest choices for who knows how long it would take. But Greg is big, and he can look all alpha-y if he needs to. Not that I want him to. He’s my big teddy tiger.
Note that I didn’t say teddy bear. Bears freak me the fuck out. They’re just so damned big, and slobbery. I saw a few of them when we were growing up on the family camping trips, but they tended to avoid us, since my family makes a pretty large group—and loud, so fucking loud, especially now with all the added packs and kids. But those things have huge fucking claws; they could take your head right off. How the hell does anyone go from a huge killer beast to a fluffy stuffed animal? Were they projecting their own fears and trying to make it manageable by reducing its size? Greg knows how I feel. The first time I called him a teddy tiger, he laughed his ass off. Even more so when I explained my reasoning. But he admitted that his family never went camping and the only place he’s seen anything like that is in a zoo, so he has no idea how scary those fuckers are.
There’s not much that scares me, not really. But bears…oh yeah. Those things are horrifying.
A tug on my hand brings my attention to the fact that I must be lagging a bit behind, and I look up to see my pretty beta staring back at me, a look of curiosity on his face, checking to see if I’m ok. Of course I’m ok. We’re in town; there are no bears here, and I can take on anything else I need to. Ok, I’m not a huge fan of snakes either—Indiana Jones had that one right, but I’d take a whole fucking temple of doom full of snakes over a fucking bear.
Returning his smile, I let him pull me against his big body for a hug. The weather is surprisingly warm today. Not that I know the area, but a year ago Teddy got snowed in here with his whole pack, so it feels strange to be walking around in just a pair of yoga pants and one of Greg’s T-shirts. He keeps offering to buy me shirts in his size, but then they wouldn’t smell like him, and I’m not sure he gets that concept. He would need to wear them around for a while before they’d have his scent, and what’s the point of him buying clothes for me when I can just steal his to wear over my normal tops? They’re already broken in and cozy. Especially his overshirts.
This place is bigger than the ones my parents usually go to. With aisles and aisles of blankets and pillows in every conceivable texture and color. Teddy chuckles quietly beside me. “Close your mouth, Shorty. You’re gonna let in flies.” First of all, eww, that’s gross. Second, holy shit this place is big. Third, fuck him, this is awesome.
Sam wraps his arms around Teddy’s shoulders, pulling the big omega’s back against his chest, his raspy voice with that twang murmuring quietly against the side of Teddy’s temple before leaving a soft kiss there. “Be nice, little omega. Just ’cause you get to come here once a month when Kelly and Steve go to the bookstore isn’t a reason to be mean.”
Teddy doesn’t really look chastised. He cuddles back against his alpha and smirks at me now that Sam can’t see his face. Fucker.
I say that with fondness.
Truly.
My gaze flicks past him, my attention suddenly caught on a big head of blond hair that’s clearly visible over the regular shelves. The store doesn’t have super tall shelves, probably because their target audience rarely even reaches six feet in height, but it looks vaguely familiar, straw-colored and sticking up all over, like someone is carrying a scarecrow down the aisle, making a beeline for a huge machine in the center of the store. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it, but my feet move without my say-so, and the next thing I know, I’m practically dragging Greg along after me. Teddy’s voice is in the background, almost yelling after us about stuffing pillows.
I stumble around the corner at the end, and there is the alpha from yesterday, holding open a book full of tiny samples of cloth…wait, no, those are normal size. Fuck, I’m pretty sure the book is large too, but it looks just a bit over average in his huge paws. What the hell is his name again? Shit, I was calling him Moose, but I can’t remember what his name actually is.
There are two men with him now. A slightly older guy who’s a bit taller than Greg, but also thin and rangy—like he looks more like a runner than the big guy. There’s also a much smaller brunet…oh. I can’t believe this fucking asshole. Why the fuck was he letting that beta bitch hang all over him yesterday if he already has an omega at home?
Guess my shithead radar must be on the fritz.
Damn, he seemed so sweet.
No, I can’t believe that.
I mean, the guy is short, but he doesn’t smell anything like an omega.
In fact, as I get closer, he smells a lot like home. The orchard my abuelos started.
So why are they in a nesting store?
