Page 18 of Mating the Omega
“I can get my own breakfast. I know you want to get out to your garden.”
“I’m making apple omelets. It only takes a minute.”
“Have you eaten yet?”
“I’m not really hungry.”
Mac’s voice rumbled out. “You need to eat. If we follow your plan, we’ve got a morning of hard work ahead of us. You need to look after yourself.” Then he chuckled and I had to really work at it not to turn and present to him.Shit!My eyes flew to the calendar. I had a couple of days. Maybe. Being around Mac made it kind of hard to tell.
The omelet was ready, and I checked out my father’s expression as I slid it in front of him, but it seemed he hadn’t noticed any sign that I was coming into my first heat of the spring season. I’d have three, if past experience was anything to go by. But it meant most of this week I’d be trapped in the house, unable to go to work, unable to have the tutor visit.Fuck.And I had just started this new job.
Mac stood up, startling me. He noticed—he could hardly have missed the spatula flying across the room—but he didn’t comment. Instead, he padded quietly over to the sink, put his plate in, and started running water in for washing.
“I can do that,” I said, throwing the spatula in as well.
“Make yourself some breakfast. I’ve washed dishes before.”
“You’re a guest.” That wasn’t the reason. I just wanted to look after him.Well, this is a fine situation to get yourself in. Hopefully it’s just the hormones.But I had a disquieting feeling that it wasn’t.
“Today I’m your pack animal. I’ll wash, you eat. Or do I have to pull rank?”
He could. Mac ranked pretty high in the pack here, though he didn’t show it off. But I couldn't let that sit, especially with my own confused emotions. “That’ll only work for so long.” I was pretty sure that my own rank would match the Alpha’s, in some weird side ranking, once we were mated.
“It only has to work now,” he said in that maddeningly calm voice, and he put his hands on my shoulders and physically moved me back to the stove.
Probably just as well. When he put his hands on me, the shock of desire made me gasp, and the outlines of his hands burned on my shoulder for long minutes after. My hands shook as I cracked eggs into the bowl and beat them frothy, though by the time I got to slicing the apples they’d stopped and I could handle a knife without worrying about cutting myself.
Mac washed the dishes while I cooked, and as soon as I’d emptied my omelet onto a plate, he took the frying pan and the spatula from me and washed them as well. Then he sat at the table, sipping at his coffee and watching me eat while I tried not to spill food down my front or drop everything on the floor.
I realized I hadn’t asked him about the omelets. “What did you think of breakfast?”
“Hmm.” He took a sip of coffee and appeared to think about the question. I didn’t think he was playing with me—I found him easier to read than the Alpha. “Too rich for every day, but it would be nice on special occasions.”
Since that was my own opinion of them, hearing him say those words made me very happy, and my worries about my upcoming heat faded into the background. “I don’t make them often. It just felt like a day for them.”
“First day with the new garden? I can see why.” Mac smiled at me then and I nearly dropped my fork. While I was trying to recover my dignity, he leaned forward and nudged my plate. “Finish up so I can wash that while you brush your teeth.”
And I did.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mac watched Jason happily tying lengths of heavy wire around the poles they’d spent the first part of the morning setting into the garden soil. The omega was in his element, carefully measuring the distance between the rows, then the distance between the poles within the rows, gauging the angle of the sun and lining everything up so that the plants got the most light possible.
The omega stood on tiptoe, tying the last of the strands of wire around the top of a pole. His t-shirt rode up, and Mac had to bite the inside of his lip to stomp on the feelings that strip of pale flesh roused in him.
“You have a fantastic micro-climate here,” Jason commented. Almost burbled, Mac decided. It was something he’d noticed Jason doing when he was happy, this off-the-cuff running commentary on the many things that seemed to delight him about the place.
“What’s a micro-climate?” he asked, not because he cared, but because Jason cared, and he found he liked cultivating that joy as much Jason took pleasure in cultivating his plants.
As Jason clipped off the end of the wire, he explained, “It’s an area of slightly warmer weather inside another one. Like, if the average summer temperature is seventy degrees, then a micro-climate might have an average temperature of seventy-five.” He settled back down and the t-shirt dropped back into place. “It’s why I think we can grow those tall greenhouse tomatoes here. The soil is good, the air is warm and there isn’t much wind. All they need is proper support and we’ve just provided that.” His smile shone, easily as bright as the sun if anyone wanted to ask Mac’s opinion.
While they collected their tools and the scattered lengths of left-over wire, Mac read himself a stern lecture on the pointlessness of mooning over his Alpha’s future mate. Though the way Abel was going about it, Mac wouldn’t be surprised if Jason called the whole thing off.
Or maybe he wouldn’t—Jason was the kind of guy who kept his word. If he said he’d do something, he did it. He was reliable, to the point of obsession. Mac hadn’t heard any complaints from his tutor, and he made a point to ask every morning when he dropped her off, checking to see how the young omega was settling in. If anything, her comments were exactly the opposite—always prepared, always cheerful, and he stuck it out even when he was having problems. Plus, there was his residence here at Mercy Hills to consider.
The problem Mac had with it, aside from his own personal interest, was that, on the rare times that Abel actually spent time with Jason, the omega turned into an entirely different person from the one he was with Mac. He became uptight and nervous. Anxiety made him clumsy, and he folded under the least pressure. But—he never stopped trying. Mac had a feeling that, unless Abel broke the agreement, Jason would go through with the mating, no matter how uncomfortable he was. And that thought left Mac feeling oddly weary and more than a little unhappy.
They piled everything into the back of the truck. “Did you want to go with me to the greenhouse?” They didn’t have the tomato plants Jason wanted in their own greenhouses, but Mac had set one of the Inventory Control crew to hunting down the plants outside the enclave, then sorting out the appropriate permits for them.
