Page 26 of One for the Money
I cringe at his words. It is shitty, and I guess it’s proof that I don’t yet see her as part of the troupe. She’s not done anything wrong, but I still feel closed off toward her. I’m protective of the environment I’ve curated here, and I don’t know if she’s good for it or not yet.
“Go get her,” I tell him, waving my tongs in the direction of her trailer. “Try not to make a big deal about the invite being late.”
Chapter 10
These walls are thin,so I can hear the noise and smell the food of the cookout from my trailer.
The cookout I wasn’t invited to.
At this point, I’m not too surprised. I’m not one of them. I doubt I will ever be.
I’m not upset about it. Nope. Not at all.
I’m just too different. Too ‘other’ for them to accept. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I’m the only female and an Omega. I’ve upset their homeostasis.
I pop open my microwave, grabbing the bag of kettlecorn from it and pouring it into a bowl. I didn’t even realize Quinton and Matteo had slipped this into my cabinet until today. I’ve been a little nauseous lately, and it’s all I can stomach right now. I’ll just have a sad meal of popcorn while I watch trashy reality television. It won’t be the first time.
I’m halfway through the bowl, right before the Omega is going to reveal himself to the Alpha as the kid he bullied in high school, when there is a knock on my door.
“Doctor, doctor!” a voice sings. “I think I’ve fallen ill.”
My clothes are ratty, and my hair is a mess, but I can’t leave someone sick outside my door. When I open it, Quinton is beaming. He’s so handsome with his hooded gray eyes and sharp bone structure that it makes my mouth water. His shirt reveals a strip of his toned stomach, and he’s wearing shorts that stop several inches above his knees.
“Are you okay?” I ask him. “What’s wrong?” I step back to allow him entrance.
“Oooh, did you make kettlecorn? Ilovethe smell of kettlecorn,” he says, throwing himself on my couch. I notice a slight wince when he does, but he shakes it off quickly. He must’ve landed wrong.
“You don’t look sick,” I say with narrowed eyes. “What do you want, Quinton?”
He grabs the bowl of popcorn and sits it on his lap, patting the couch beside him. “I wanted to hang out. I am sick.” He pauses, no doubt for dramatic effect. “Sick of not being around you.” He bats his eyelashes, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. “Do you mind company?”
I don’t know why he’s not at the cookout and is instead hanging out with me, but I don’t ask. I fear I’ll find out that it’s from a place of pity, and I’d rather not know if that is the case. I don’t want to admit that I’ve been lonely, and spending some time with Quinton feels right.
“I guess not. I’m just watching‘Knot What You Expected’.They’re about to reveal that Kit, an Alpha, who thinks he’s been chatting with an Omega named Tif, is really this Omega, Victor, that Kit used to bully when they were younger. Victor said it started as like, a revenge plot, but now he has real feelings for Kit and hopes Kit will be willing to explore something.”
Quinton is biting his lip to hold back a smile as he looks at me. “You’re really into this, huh?”
I reach into the popcorn bowl and throw a few pieces at his face. “Shut up. Everyone has their guilty pleasures.”
“Not me,” he says around a mouthful of kettlecorn. “No guilt, just pleasure.”
My face heats up, and I have to duck my head to the side to keep him from seeing it. He grabs the remote and presses the button to unpause the show, and the host’s voice fills the trailer.
It’s only been a few minutes before Quinton pauses the show. “Do you mind if I...” He pulls a joint from his pocket and wiggles it in my face.
“No, it’s fine,” I say, hopping up to turn on the exhaust fan in the bathroom and opening my window. “Just uh…” I look around, eventually finding an empty water bottle. “Don’t get ash on my couch.”
He lights the joint and pulls on it, holding the smoke in his mouth before puffing it out in little rings. I can’t help watching his mouth as he does, noticing how soft his plush lips look. He’s got stress lines on the sides of his eyes, like he’s got a bit of a headache, and as the cannabis hits him, they start to relax. “Do you want some?”
“I don’t know. I’m kind of on duty.”
The Alpha waggles his eyebrows at me. “You get some time off, don’t you?”
“Not really, no. One of you could get hurt at any time.” I haven’t smoked since med school. I recognize the medicinal benefits of cannabis, but Rich hated the way it smelled the one time I tried to partake once we got together.
He scoots a little closer to me on the couch and holds it up to my lips. “C’mon, Doc, live a little. Succumb to peer pressure.” He leans close as he speaks, and I wonder brieflywhat he smells like when he’s not soaked in the sweet scent of marijuana.
Would his Alpha pheromones smell sweet or savory? Maybe woodsy, or herbal like rosemary?
