Page 52 of Bully for Sale
Ned was nowhere to be found.
Ezer felt a strange panic to find himself alone in the heat house by the sea.
Finding a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie Ned must have left out for him, he slid them on. The pants were too big, being Ned’s, and he had to tie the drawstring incredibly tight to keep them on his body. They bunched oddly, but they stayed put at least. The hoodie was soft and clean. He tugged it over his head and walked out onto the small porch.
Ned wasn’t there, either.
He was on the beach, a long way down the strand. A man against the backdrop of the waves and water. Ezer felt the distance, and the vast aloneness of the heat house. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and, barefoot, stepped out to join Ned. The walk over the dunes was slow going, but by the time he reached the water, Ned was heading back.
As they drew close, Ned held out his hands. “For you.” Sheets of Mother of pearl almost as big as Ned’s palm, and two perfectly formed tiny conch shells rested there.
Ezer raised a brow. The attempt at courting was sweet, but he still hadn’t settled in his mind whether he was willing to accept it. He was only nineteen; he’d never given much thought to what it meant to be someone’s omega. He hadn’t ever wanted to do more than auction his heats. He’d never planned to breed, or to have this sort of attention from an alpha, much less one he had such a difficult past with.
“I thought they were pretty. Like you.”
“God, Ned, stop with the flirtations.”
Ned’s shy smile slipped off his face as the shells slipped from his hands. They landed in the sand at their feet, and he didn’t stoop to pick them up.
Neither did Ezer.
Finally after a long moment of staring into Ezer’s eyes, Ned said, “I guess I should start dinner. I’m tired of stew. We’ll want to wait here at least a day to make sure the heat really is over.” Then he walked past Ezer and toward the house, the wind, waves, and the sand dunes muffling his steps.
“Wait,” Ezer called. “I’m sorry.”
But Ned didn’t return. Ezer squatted and picked up Ned’s small offerings. What was wrong with him? He was being a jerk. Ned had been so tender during the heat, so kind, and generous, keeping him hydrated, fed, and pleasured beyond his wildest dreams, but Ezer couldn’t even take a few shells as a gift and endure a compliment?
He cradled the tiny conchs in his palm, and then admired the sheen of the sheets of mother of pearl. Carrying them back up to the house with him, he entered and put them on the counter next to where Ned was preparing rather large and messy sandwiches.
Ned glanced at the shells and then at Ezer, a glimmer of hope passing over his features before he schooled his face and asked, “Do you like mustard?”
“Yeah.”
“Me, too. I like the spicy kind. You? I have the yellow stuff if you don’t.”
“Spicy is good.”
Ned’s heaviness seemed to lift slightly with each agreeable comment from Ezer’s mouth, which boded well for him being an easygoing alpha, but also seemed to prove Ezer’s point that alphas only liked omegas when they made their lives better. Though he had no idea how him being marginally polite made Ned’s life better as a whole, but he supposed it wasn’t hard, and being polite was fair, so he would continue with it. For now.
Sitting down with their sandwiches, Ezer picked at his before saying, “I guess we should discuss a few things.”
“Like what?” Ned asked, letting Ezer take the lead.
“Like what we expect from each other. Heat is heat. We know what happens during that. But now it’s over…so what do you expect from me?”
“Well, a lot depends on if you’re pregnant,” Ned said. “Did anyone review that outcome with you?”
“I’ve seen it up close and personal with Pete these past few months. The real question is are you ready for it? Because there’s a lot expected from you as well.”
“My father told me that it’s just keeping you satisfied.” Ned took a big bite of his sandwich.
Ezer laughed. “Oh, God. Okay. Maybe you should get a book on it. Fatherhood, I mean.” He took a bite of his sandwich, too, the mustard bursting tangy across his tongue. As out of control as he felt, he was surprised he wanted to eat at all. But heat and the aftermath left him no space to ignore the demands of his body, so his bites were big and messy. Ned didn’t seem to care.
“A book on fatherhood,” Ned repeated.
“Yeah, because there’s more to it than just fucking me sated for months, and then doing all this again once they manage to trigger another heat in me.” Ezer had no doubt they would, too. There was too much money in each pregnancy not to.
Ned picked at his sandwich, pulling pieces of lettuce free and scattering them around his plate. “I know, and I want to be a good father. I’m willing to learn and read, for sure. I want a happy, loving home like my Uncle Heath has with his omega and their children.” He frowned, and then seemed to shake something off, turning back to Ezer. “How about you?”
