Is he suggesting my bag was so heavy it was full of rocks?
“I have a couple of sweaters,” I say, a touch defensively. “It’s summer, so I probably won’t need them, but I thought I should pack a couple just in case.”
From his blank expression, that isn’t what he means.
He clears his throat, avoiding my gaze. “I’m trying not to step on any toes or push myself into your life, but?—”
It’s suddenly blindingly clear what he means. There’s only one reason why an alpha would want to know if an omega had something soft.
“Are you asking if I have anest?”
“Yes.”
Omegas crave soft and cozy when we hurt and as our heat, days of intense sexual needs that only an alpha or suppressants can satisfy, approaches.
In my old house, I had a small room which I filled with cushions and all the softness I could ever want. When I sold the house and moved into my parents’ home about thirty minutes away, my nest was just a corner of my bedroom that I spent more time out of than in because Ben needed me.
I motion toward my still-flat belly. “I’m not in danger of going into heat now that I’m pregnant, and Ben needs me too much to disappear into a nest for hours.”
I’d intended to get suppressants after Simon died. They’re easy enough to pick up from an omega specialist doctor.
“How about we make you a nest here?” Murph suggests. “We have a spare bedroom that’s nearly finished being renovated. I could turn it into your nest.”
It’s a sweet offer I didn’t expect, and while having a cozy space to focus on myself is appealing, that isn’t practical with a high-energy five-year-old.
“Thanks, but Ben needs a lot of attention, so I wouldn’t have time to make that much use of it anyway.”
“I could watch Ben for a couple of hours.”
My lips twitch. “You’ve got all your arguments ready to defend, don’t you, Murph Owens?”
An answering smile flickers across his gaze. “A nest is important to you, which means it’s important to me. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”
“Okay. I will.” But I won’t.
He peers down at me through hooded eyes. “I’m going to mess up. Probably a lot. This conversation is going well because I’ve had time to prepare. Others won’t. I’ll say the wrong thing. It comes from spending more time talking to cows and horses than to people.”
“Cows too, huh?” I say, holding back a smile but appreciating his honesty.
He scratches the back of his neck as a flush spreads over the apples of his cheeks. “I shouldn’t tell you about the chickens if I want you to respect me, should I?”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Please tell me about the chickens.”
His grin is so beautiful that I’m amazed I can make this gruff man smile at all.
“How about we take our time figuring out what our normal is?” I suggest.
He nods. “I’d like that, Rose.”
“I’m wrestling with more emotions than I know what to do with,” I tell him, voice low. “So I will mess up too, repeatedly. It won’t be because I’m trying to hurt you. It will be because I don’t know what to do with all these feelings and this grief.”
He moves closer, his eyes scanning my face. He takes my hand. My breath catches as his strong fingers curl around mine.
“My need for you can wait,” he says, his intense gaze locked onto mine, filled with so much longing it’s like arms enveloping me. His forehead rests against mine. “It’s loud, but it won’t drown out your needs. And what you need is time.”
It's nearly unbearable to let Murph go, but I make myself do it, if only because I’m exhausted. If we don’t pull away now, I never will.
“I should go up to bed,” I eventually say.
