Page 46 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

I gestured absently. “Uh, so …”

Wyatt glanced away, running a hand through his dark curls. Oh, his curls. I clenched my hands, trying to will away the desire to run my fingers through his tresses. “Vern gave me the day off, so I figured …”

Relief flooded me so suddenly, I could have been knocked over with a feather. Wyatt hadn’t been avoiding me. He’d just been busy. He was a vet, and it was springtime in farm country. Ofcourse he’d been run off his feet.

I needed to get it together. I couldn’t start thinking he was mad at me or hated my guts every time work got a little busy for him, not if we were gonna be together. Wyatt didn’t need that. No omega needed that. No, they all deserved supportive alphas, and I, for one, wasn’t going to fall into the trap of being a stereotypical alpha-hole.

“So,” I started, just as Cal rounded the corner.

“Cam, do you—oh, hey, Wyatt.”

“Hey,” the dark-haired vet said, lifting a hand in greeting.

Cal opened his mouth to say something to me. Then he froze, his expression twisting. He turned his head viciously, fixing Wyatt with a scandalized look. He stared for a minute.

Wyatt blinked. “What?” I asked.

Cal shook his head furiously. He gave me a wary look. Then he glanced back at Wyatt. “Nothing,” he said. “Never mind.”

I scowled at him. That was a weird reaction for anyone but especially for Cal.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and sit down,” Cal said. His voice was still nervy.

I frowned, crossing my arms, but Cal was already headed down the hall, brushing past Wyatt.

The kitchen still stank. Aunt Caroline was fanning the pan, trying to get the smoke to waft out the window.

Wyatt looked a little green around the gills, but he said nothing as Cal marched us over to the table. We sat, without a word.

“Can I get you anything, Wyatt honey?” Caroline called from the sink. “Coffee, tea, water?”

“No coffee,” Cal said, and I stared at him. What the fuck was up with him this morning?

“Water would be fine,” Wyatt replied, then cleared his throat.

I glared at Cal as I sank into a chair. “What’s going on?” I practically growled. Honestly, he didn’t get to dictate whatpeople could or couldn’t drink in the house, then not tell me what the hell was going on in that head of his.

Cal glanced at me, then at Wyatt. Was that me or were his cheeks pinker than usual? Cal was … blushing?

Weirder and weirder.

“It’s nothing,” he said again. “Just …”

“Justwhat?” I pressed.

He took a deep breath. “You don’t think Wyatt smells … kinda funny?”

Wyatt stared. I blinked. “Come again?” I asked finally.

Cal coughed, then set down his mug.

Silence filled the room. I stared at the wall, pursing my lips. Wyatt glanced between us, then laughed nervously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, grinning. “I mean, I’ve been out in the fields, so …”

Cal shook his head. Karla dropped a plate of various fried meats on the table, and I watched Wyatt turn even greener. “Who knows,” my burly aunt said. “Could mean just about anything.” She shrugged. “Could mean you’ve been out in the fields, could mean you’re pregnant, could mean nothing at all.”

Wyatt’s eyes went round. “What!” he yelped. “Pregnant?!” He seemed to waver in his seat, then clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Are you serious right now,” I snapped at Karla, who merely lifted her brows.