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I’m a little shocked. I wouldn’t have pegged Dylan as a businessman. I figured he worked the bar while his brother did the books because he wasn’t good at it. I’m not sure why I affixed that stereotype to him, like omegas are only good for talking and being pretty.
I feel like shit when I analyze that. Carlton was that. He fit the omega stereotype to a tee. He wanted me to take care of him, he only wanted to be pretty and dolled up—nothing wrong with that—and he didn’t want to do anything but eventually end up a stay-at-home father.
The fact that one similarity—their love for the holidays—made me think he was anything like Carlton makes me think that Rome might be right. I might not have talked my feelings about my breakup out enough. Maybe I can call Rome and pick his brain, figure out what he did. Not to say I want anything more with Dylan, but in case the opportunity comes again, I don’t want past hangups to hold me back from an omega.
Reluctantly, I say, “Yeah, I’ll try some.”
Dylan blinks at me in surprise. “Okay. Come inside. I have some in the cooler.”
I follow him in and sit at the bar as he pulls out a bottle from the fridge behind the bar. He’s quick with popping the cap and sliding it to me. It’s pink, fizzy and smells like candy. I almost tell myself it’s disgusting before I even try it. Screwing up my face—anticipating the sweet taste I know will hit my tongue—I take a small sip. Then an even bigger gulp.
It tastes nothing like I imagined. It’s sweet, yes, but not overly. It has a nice kick to it and a very pleasant after taste. In short, it’s fucking amazing.
“Wow,” I say, drinking a bit more. “It’s really good.” I look up at him and see his smug smile. I can’t even try to wipe it off because he should be smug. “You have a gift for this.”
He rubs his hands over his pants, then slides them into his back pocket. “I told you I’m a master mixologist. I’ve been working at it for a few years. I’m actually trying to set up a few classes so I can certify others.” My face must express shock because he giggles. “What? You thought I was just a pretty face, huh?”
No need to deny it. “I did. I’m sorry about that.”
“No biggie,” he says with a shrug, and I believe he really doesn’t care about any misgivings I may have had. “I’ve gotten it a lot. I know who I am and what I bring to the table. What one alpha thinks about me means nothing.” He winks to take some of the sting out of his comment, but I still feel it.
I finish off my Winny’s and place the bottle on the bar. “You ready?”
“I am.” He skips around the bar and loops my scarf around my neck. I cover a gasp when he loops it expertly together without brushing my body. So close, but not close enough.
“There. Let’s get started so I can feed you.” He turns around and saunters towards the door, leaving me staring after him, a bit in disbelief that he got to me.
Chapter 6
Dylan
The site is full of activity, other booth participants having the same idea as me—wanting to decorate now so we can enjoy the fun of the booth and parade.
After the parade is over, most people will either walk or drive down to the site so they can enjoy the fun afterwards. I want to experience the parade this year, so I plan to catch the beginning, then hustle over here to get things together with the booth. If I follow it from the beginning, I should be able to do both.
That’s the downside of having a booth. I can’t see all the floats as long as I’d like. Usually, Bryce and I would follow together, taking fun pictures and talking about the amazing floats we see. When kids are on the floats, they throw candy and Bryce and I bet on who can catch the most. He usually won since his hands are so much bigger than mine.
I’m smiling at the constant parade memories when Andrew walks over to the booth with three boxes stacked high. He drops them on the ground, then curses when the bottom one lands in a puddle. All the tromping around from me and others have this area a little muddy and full of puddles, though the surrounding area still has plenty of snow.
Hurriedly, he slides the boxes on the assigned table and unpacks the bottom box. Luckily, the tablecloths and other decorations didn’t get ruined by the muddy water.
“No harm done,” I tell him when he continues to frown.
Andrew nods, then looks at me, gaze boring into me. He opens his mouth, but closes it quickly, turns around and heads back to the truck. I’m not sure what that was about, but I can’t think of my Scrooge’s motives. I make myself busy unpacking the other boxes, sliding the garland, Christmas balls, wreaths, and holly down to the end of the table. When I have it all lined up, I step from under the cover of my booth and take a look. I start to envision what I want and I’m glad I have someone here to help. Even with a ladder, I wouldn’t be able to get the decorations how I want them.
Scrooge comes back over with one box under his arm and the ladder slung over his shoulder. He really cuts a striking figure. Full lips, sharp cheeks, those sexy bushy eyebrows, and his lush hair. If I were in the market for an alpha, I’d definitely shoot my shot. But we’re too different and he’s too grumpy.
Though I kind of like his grumpiness. His hot and cold attitude can use some work.
“Thank you,” I say brightly. Although I don’t know what to do with him, I really do appreciate his help. The fact that I suckered him into it doesn’t matter too much to me.
He grunts. “Where do you need all this?”
I tell him my vision and he looks at the booth objectively. “What about having the garland here, two wreaths there and maybe some holly hanging on the sides?” I’m shocked since he really seems to hate everything to do with this holiday season.
Huh, how about that? He might not like the holidays, but he’s good at decorating. Nodding, I turn to him, beaming. “I love it, Scrooge. Let’s get started.”
He glares at me when I call him Scrooge, but he sets the ladder up and I hand him the decorations while he sets them up how he specified. We’ll definitely get this finished tomorrow.
