Page 8 of My Omega's Baby

“My pleasure.” It wasn’t like conversing with him was my favorite part of the day. I opened the door and scoped out the front and sides of the house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I led Wyatt to my car.

As I started the engine, he leaned closer, trying to clip his seat belt, and I got a whiff of his clean scent. It made me feel a little weird, and my pulse sped up slightly. I didn’t usually notice things like a man’s cologne or whether or not his hair looked soft to the touch. I pulled my eyes from his glossy locks and pulled out onto the main road.

We rode in silence for the first part of the drive. He gave me directions, and as we got nearer to Talada, I became curious about his childhood. “Did you grow up here?”

“Yeah.” He stared out the window at the dilapidated buildings. “It was different then.”

“Of course. That was a long time ago.”

He shot me an impatient glance. “Is that your way of calling me old again?”

I frowned. “No. But you’re what… in your forties? That means it was a long time ago by default.”

“I’m forty exactly. Not in my forties.”

“Excuse me.” I grimaced. Who knew he’d be so sensitive about his age?

“And my age just means I’m more experienced than you,” he grumbled.

I bit my lip and said as calmly as I could, “Relax. It wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“Pfft. Everything you young wolves say is meant as an insult.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He shrugged.

I took a deep breath and counted to ten. “What was life like here?”

He didn’t respond immediately, but then some of the tension left his shoulders. “It was great. I rode my bike everywhere with my buddies. My dad was a policeman, and my mother was a stay-at-home mom until I was in high school.”

“Sounds nice.” My own childhood hadn’t been anything like that. It made me a little envious hearing about his.

“It was.”

“Are your parents still alive?” I eyed a black car with dark tinted windows that seemed to be following beside us longer than I liked. When it turned right at the next light, I breathed a sigh of relief.

“My mom is.” He sighed. “She still lives here in the same house I grew up in.”

I grimaced. “Hopefully in a better part of town?”

“Nope.” He snorted. “She’s a stubborn old thing.”

Apparently stubbornness runs in the family.

“She probably feels closer to your dad living there.” I put on my signal and changed lanes.

He glanced at me. “Maybe.” He shifted as if he was in pain.

“Tooth still hurting?”

“That is why I’m going to the dentist,” he grumbled.

Touchy bastard.

“I don’t love going into your old neighborhood. The bad guys might assume you’d return here to see your mom.”

He snorted. “The bad guys?”