Page 10 of My Alien Angel (Supernova Casanovas #6)
Fin
Exhausted, annoyed beyond measure, and very much aware that I smell like dog vomit, I collapse into the driver’s seat of my car, my head resting on the steering wheel.
I should start the engine and drive home but currently, I feel so drained even breathing feels like a chore.
If there was such a thing as the worst day at work Olympics, today would have taken gold in all categories.
Turns out, Mr. Robertson does know the difference between Labradors and Golden retrievers.
Who would have thought? So, of course he yelled at me for getting the wrong kind of puppies first thing in the morning.
Then the owner of the puppies had to leave, and I was left on dog-sitting duty between the shots.
Don’t get me wrong, I love puppies and these were no exception being totally adorable, but they aren’t house trained yet, so you can imagine what their crate looked like after an entire day.
On top of that, Pupper’s Choice apparently makes puppies vomit even if it’s mixed with a prime dog food brand.
As they were throwing up everywhere, including over me, the owner got into a shouting match with Mr. Robertson, threatening to sue us for any damage to his litter’s health.
After a few minutes of arguing, somehow, both of them agreed that everything was my fault.
At that point, I was on the verge of tears and had to excuse myself to go change.
Fortunately, I keep a spare set of clothes at work exactly for situations like this, so while I still stink of dog vomit, at least I’m not actually covered in it anymore. Small blessings, right?
At least some of my co-workers supported and comforted me.
Not in front of Mr. Robertson, of course, no one would dare to do that, but Sheila from prop management whose dog threw up last week after the Pupper’s Choice mock-up shots said she will definitely make an anonymous phone call to the FDA to report it as harmful to animals.
Pupper’s Choice likely won’t be making a grand entrance on the dog food market, which also means that the ad we’ve spent so much work on will never be aired.
Good for dogs, a waste of time for us. At least we’re getting paid, even me.
I may have been publicly shamed for every misfortune that happened before, during and after the shoot, and pretty much every bad thing that has ever happened all the way back to the plagues of Egypt. But hey, I still have a job, so…great?
God, all I want to do is curl up in the shower and cry, but I have to drive home first. Not to mention, I really should pick up some food on the way because my houseguest has a healthy appetite.
If I still even have a houseguest? Hell, if I still have an apartment to come back to?
I’ve been monitoring the local fire and police department socials all day, hoping my address didn’t pop up on the feed, and didn’t see anything suspicious, so here’s hoping.
Omni was still asleep when I entered the living room this morning, sprawled out face down over the couch, one of his wings draped over him like a blanket. Of course he hadn’t taken them off before going to bed. At this point, it’s safe to assume that he’s never going to take them off.
As I was quietly moving around the kitchen, he’d lazily opened his eyes, yawning and stretching out like a cat.
Still on his stomach and sinfully bare-chested, he’d propped up on his elbows, watching me make myself coffee into a travel mug.
Since he was awake, I repeated the rules adding anything else I could think of.
Omni promised he’d be careful but what if something happened?
He wouldn’t even know how to call the emergency services.
All it would take is him mistakenly turning on the stove and poof! We’d both be homeless.
Groaning from a combination of mental and physical strain, I order Italian takeout from a restaurant directly en route home.
They’ll have it ready for me by the time I get there, so at least I won’t have to wait.
Omni seemed to like the pizza last night, so he might like pasta as well.
I should probably feed him something containing vegetables at some point, but that’s a dilemma for future Fin to deal with.
Current Fin has reached her maximum mental capacity.
Take away in hand after nearly having a mental breakdown over the lack of available parking spaces anywhere near my apartment, I’m finally dragging my sorry ass upstairs.
There were no fire trucks parked outside, nor was the entrance blocked off by police tape, which lifts my spirits a little.
Perhaps I’m not coming home to a complete disaster.
Unlocking the door, I carefully sniff the air.
I don’t smell any smoke or gas and there’s no water flooding the floor from cracked pipes.
Phew. Back in his slightly torn coveralls, Omni stands from the couch, greeting me with a wide smile.
“Welcome to home, Fin,” he says, evidently pleased with himself for stringing a sentence together.
My attempt at a smile is lousy at best. “Hi. Everything okay today?” He’s still here, so either he truly has nowhere to go or has decided to stick around for a while.
I probably shouldn’t be so excited about it.
After all, my life would be a lot easier if he simply left. A lot less interesting, though.
“Yes. Everything good. No fire, no mess, no break thing.”
“Awesome. I’ll just take a shower and then I’ll…” I don’t know what. Probably collapse on the couch and watch some mindless TV before it’s time to go to sleep so that I’ll be rested for another day of hell at work.
The plastic bag with food containers almost slips out of my hands, making me realize I’m still holding it.
Staring at the bag, I struggle to remember what it is I’m actually holding in the first place and what I should be doing with it.
Omni solves the mental gymnastics by gently taking the bag from me.
“You tired. You need sugar and caffeine. Sunny Mug coffee brand best for tired.”
Blinking, I try to comprehend what the hell he’s talking about.
Slightly muted sounds from the TV gives me the hint I need.
“Ads. You’ve been watching ads on TV. You know, we actually made that Sunny Mug ad.
The cup in that shot is actually filled with soy sauce mixed with water and the cream on top is shaving cream.
Yummy, right? It’s actually a really shitty brand of coffee.
If they were any good, they’d hire someone better than us to make their ads.
Wait, you do know that not everything you see on TV is real, right? ”
Omni chuckles. “Yes, Fin. I know TV no real. You tired real.”
“Yeah. No kidding. Just put the food in the kitchen or start eating if you’re really hungry. I’ll join you once I’ve showered...” And pulled myself together a little, because I’m so on edge I’m tearing up from how sweet he is being.
Stepping into the shower, hot water pelts my aching muscles, causing one hell of a groan to escape.
As the water streams down my shoulders and back, I imagine all of my stress and worries washing down the drain with it.
It helps. A little. The thought that Omni is in the next room waiting for me also helps to prevent me from falling apart completely.
He’s practically dependent on me like a child, so I can’t lose it now.
“It’s just a bad day,” I say to no one in particular as I lather up the shampoo.
I’m pretty sure there wasn’t any dog vomit in my hair but I feel like I can still smell it so better to be safe than sorry.
. “Just a bad day. Tomorrow will be better.” It can hardly get any worse, can it?
And now I’ve gone and jinxed myself. Perfect.
Since I totally forgot to bring any clean clothes into the bathroom to change into, I slip on my bathrobe, making sure it covers everything important before returning to the living room.
Omni pauses-mid movement, his eyes trailing up from my bare legs to my thankfully covered cleavage, then on to my face.
Aware that I’m very much naked under this robe, I’m fully blushing while his cheeks only darken slightly.
Clearing his throat, he tears his gaze away from me and points at the table. “Good?”
“Wow.” He has taken the time to put the takeout food on actual plates and set the table with various utensils, glasses filled with the iced tea I’d served yesterday and— “Is that my Baby Groot figurine?” The little tree man in a small planter sits in the middle of the table.
Omni hesitates. “No good? TV show flower on table.” Vaguely gesturing at my living room, he adds, “No flower in Fin’s place.”
“Y-you…” I stutter, incapable of finishing the thought.
He’s set the table for me. With flowers, no less.
Or the best approximation he could find in my apartment at least, because if there’s something I don’t have aside from a sexy body and a healthy dose of self-confidence, it’s a green thumb.
I can’t even keep a cactus alive. But Omni found something that resembled a flower and I’m almost certain he didn’t mean it in a romantic way, but dammit, it is romantic.
It’s also the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long while and fuck, I’m about to cry.