Page 13 of Knight With Benefits

“Did you get the tarps?”

It took a moment for his words to penetrate, and I had to shake myself out of the daze I’d fallen into, swallowing hard to be able to speak.

“I got the painter’s plastic instead. I needed it anyway, and you said it would work.”

I’d started to curl in on myself, old habits coming back when I thought I was disappointing someone, but Carl’s tone was soothing as he responded.

“That’s fine. It’ll last through the weekend, and I’ll get the roof fixed first thing Tuesday.”

I sucked in a shuddering breath, s’mores filling my lungs again and loosening muscles gone tight. I hated that I was conditioned to fear alphas, but it would take longer than I’d had to unlearn what I’d been taught over more than forty years. Not all alphas were abusive, but enough of them were that I wasn’t the only omega who reacted defensively towards them.

Nodding, I peeled my gaze off the ground where it had dropped, trying to think of where I’d left the bag with the supplies.

“It’s in here. Somewhere.”

Carl followed me into the kitchen, whistling when he saw the broken cabinets standing in the middle of the floor.

“You’ve been busy. Want me to get these out of the way?”

Opening my mouth, the words caught in my throat as I turned to see Carl gripping one of the chunks of cabinets, casually jerking the countertop off and setting it aside before folding the cheap particleboard in on itself as if it was nothing more than cardboard.

I might have drooled.

In my panties.

“Umm, sure. Thanks.”

I was breathing hard again, but it had nothing to do with physical labor, although the me in my head was getting a workout. It was impossible not to think about what the big man could do to me with all the coiled power he displayed so causally.

It was difficult to drag my eyes away from him, but I could scent my own slick in the air, and I needed to get myself under control. I didn’t know what it was about him, but Carl seemed to kick my ovaries into overdrive, and I didn’t want to end up acting like a hormonal omega panting after her first knot.

“Here they are.”

I stooped to snatch the package of painter’s plastic from the shopping bag I’d left on the floor, looking up in time to catch Carl staring at my ass. He didn’t seem to feel guilty over being caught, shooting me a grin like some schoolboy found with his hand in the cookie jar, playing innocent.

I’d let him stick his hand inmycookie jar.

Slapping duct tape over my mental mouth before it managed to get something equally horrifying through my lips, I followed him out as he lugged the cabinet and countertop as if they were nothing.

“Just toss them by the ladder while I get this in the dumpster. I’ll clear the rest of the cabinets out before dealing with the roof.”

The old, rusted dumpster was at the back of the property, and I’d worried over how to dispose of the cabinets since I hadn’t thought they would fit in it, but Carl had no trouble tossing the scraps over the top, the thud reverberating through the parking lot. Garbage was only picked up once a week, and even broken down the cabinets would take up a lot of space, but I didn’t have anything else to throw out that wouldn’t fit until then. The dumpster actually seemed a bit excessive, but I didn’t know how much garbage a café would produce, so I was hesitant to have the city take it away and replace it with something smaller just yet.

I forced myself to head back inside once Carl turned and started coming my way again, going back to my painting, although I was watching him more than what I was doing. He wasn’t even breathing hard by the time he got to the last chunk, ripping it apart like he had the rest and toting it outside.

“I should have let him rip it out. He’d have gotten it done in ten minutes. Without the blisters.”

No one was there to hear my muttered complaint as the cheap wooden handle I gripped rubbed the raw skin of my palm, and I sighed to myself. Having the freedom of not having to worry about anyone else had been novel at first, but the solitude was getting to me. After more than twenty years of having someone to take care of, even during the few hours I was alone, it felt wrong to only be responsible for myself. The omega part of me was always unsettled, looking for something to do, or someone to care for.

Putting a hand on my aching back, I straightened from the stoop I’d been in to edge along the floor, stepping away to inspect the wall. The pale yellow I’d chosen for the kitchen would need another coat, but just the small splash of color in the otherwise drab space put a smile on my face. Painting was exactly what I’d needed to feel like I was getting closer to actually opening the doors on my dream.

The whoosh of air hit me a moment before Carl’s voice, startling me into almost dropping the cup of paint I held.

“I’m done—Whoa!”

Large hands cupped mine, holding steady so the paint didn’t spill as my other palm flew to my chest and I tried to swallow my heart back down out of my throat. Once again I was drowning in the smokey-sweet scent of s’mores, his warmth soaking into my fingers and making the hairs along my arm stand on end.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

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