Page 14 of The Alpha Escort Agency
There's a long pause of silence, and he's on the verge of turning away, when he hears faint footsteps and the swivel of the spyhole. Another pause which makes him strangely nervous and then the click of locks and the door creaks open.
The Omega is dressed in those short Jersey shorts again and a loose t-shirt which reveals her left shoulder and a pink bra strap.
"Hi," she says, holding one hand in front of her mouth. She chews and swallows. "I was just enjoying your banana bread. So good!" She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and makes a show of swooning. "Did you really make this?"
He nods.
She hooks her thumb into her mouth, sucking off crumbs. "Your watch, right? I was going to ring the agency tomorrow and let them know it was here."
"It has sentimental value, so I wanted it back. I hope you don't mind." Her face is captivating. Not cross or confused as he’d expected to find it, calm and cheerful, and he can’t draw his eyes away from it.
"Of course not, come in. I'll just go grab it." She spins on her toes and trots away.
Cautiously, he steps inside the flat but keeps the door open behind him. It feels strange to be back here without the thick aroma of her heat overpowering everything and driving his decisions. He'd like to swing his gaze about now he is unhindered by his rut, instead he keeps his eyes fixed on his boots.
"Here you go," she says, skipping back into the room and holding out the watch to him.
"Thanks." Slowly, he wraps the leather straps around his wrist and fastens the watch, taking his time, knowing he could do this on his walk back to the truck but wanting to prolong the time with her. "There's more of my food in the fridge. Did you find it?"
She grins and hurries to open the fridge door. "There is?"
He takes another little step inside. "Yes. In the tupperware boxes."
"Do you need these back?" She asks, lifting one out and snapping back the lid to peer inside.
"No, you can keep them." He watches her, studies her, like he does out in the wild, his body alert but unmoving, careful not to spook her.
"Mmmm is this macaroni cheese?" She finds a fork from the draining rack and scoops pasta into her mouth.
"Yes and there's some lasagna and chilli left too."
"Wow! This is going to last me like a week!" Securing back the lid, she tucks the box back inside and closes the door. She peers at him, still smiling. "I'm the worst cook."
"I know."
"You know?" she says, arching an eyebrow.
"Your fridge is full of microwaveable dinners and no actual vegetables."
"That's because I get home late and am too tired to cook, and when I do it's always a disaster." She talks with ease, as if she’s known him much longer than she has, as if they hadn’t been doing what they had mere hours ago.
There's a pause. He ought to go. There's no reason to stay.
She leans against the countertop, arching towards him. "Would you like a cup of tea? Before you head off."
"Yes. Yes, I would." The words slip from his mouth before he can stop them.
"Take a seat then." She points to one of the chairs tucked beneath the table that separates the kitchenette from the living area. Shutting the front door, he shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair before taking the seat.
"How'd you take your tea?"
"Strong with a very small amount of milk. No sugar."
She giggles, shaking her head as she pops tea bags into mugs. "So typically Alpha. One day an Alpha will say 'as milky and sweet as you can make it' and I will die of shock."
"I suppose that's how you take your tea."
"No, actually I like a builder's tea as well."
