Page 7

6

Liam

After the speed-dating event, I walked Dad down to the hotel where he was staying, and we stopped out front, the light from the lobby’s chandelier glittering through the window. I leaned in to give him a hug good night. “Thanks for your help tonight. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He snorted, giving me a hard squeeze before he let go and stepped back. He was smirking. “Of course you could have. You’ve been fiercely independent since you were a toddler, refusing help at every turn. Honestly, I was just surprised you let me help tonight.”

“Hey, I didn’t ‘ let you help ,’” I snipped, defensive. “I… accepted it gracefully.”

“Yeah, right. Real graceful.”

In all honesty, I knew I could’ve made do on my own, just like I always did, but I knew how much it meant to him to be there. And in the end, it had been really nice to have him supporting me. Since Pops died, we’d both been a little lost.

Dad’s eyes narrowed as he hit me with one of his practiced dad stares, perfected after years of raising a precocious teenager. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been… quiet since the event wrapped up . Did something happen on one of your dates? Did someone say or do something inappropriate?”

“What? No, no, everything is fine. I’m just tired, that’s all. I had an early morning, and now it’s past my bedtime.”

He gave me a skeptical look but didn’t press. He knew better. I might’ve been smiley and outgoing on the outside, but when I felt cornered, look out. I was the kind of person to close up tight and lock all my feelings away—if you were lucky. When push came to shove, though, I could be a dangerous adversary with a wicked temper.

“Alright, good night, Dad. I’ll see you back at the café in the morning? I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Sounds great, Son,” he said, waving as I backed up down the sidewalk. I knew from experience that he would stand right there until he saw me get into my car. His overprotectiveness used to drive me crazy, but I was used to it by now. It was easier not to fight it.

Once I was in my car, I waved out the window, and Dad finally disappeared inside the hotel, the night door attendant sweeping forward to pull the glass door open for him. It wasn’t until his shadow had vanished that I finally let down my carefully constructed walls.

“Fuck,” I muttered, banging my head lightly on the steering wheel. My back bowed, shoulders hunched forward as I felt the full weight of what happened.

Jared, the seemingly perfect alpha, with his thick brown hair and molasses eyes, and that damn dimple every time he gave me his lopsided grin, was a spy. I had no idea what he’d intended to do once he’d infiltrated my café, but it couldn’t have simply been to charm a stranger—because that was what I was to him, obviously. He’d accused me of lying, which meant he didn’t know I was the owner. And that meant… that the connection had been real .

No! I snapped at myself. There could be no thinking about the electric chemistry I felt crackling between us. No lingering over the memory of his hand in mine, the way his thumb felt as he stroked over my sensitive skin, sending tingles through my body, headed due south.

It couldn’t have all been in my head. The connection we had… there was no way he didn’t feel it too. Was he just scared at the intensity? Maybe he was worried about what I would say once I found out why he was there. Or it could’ve been—

Stop it! I scolded myself. Don’t make excuses for that asshole’s shitty behavior.

I screwed a lid tight on my grumbling and drove the rest of the way home with the radio blasting, hoping it could drown out my inner monologue.

My apartment was just outside of the downtown area in one of the hip neighborhoods, full of trendy restaurants and art studios. Walking from my assigned parking spot, I could hear music coming from one of the outdoor patios, laughter and the tinkle of silverware like a symphony that to me meant good business.

Being in this neighborhood meant my rent was higher than I would’ve liked, but it was hard to find something closer. I just hoped it wasn’t a mistake. Maybe I should’ve set up a bed in the office at Grounded instead, just until I knew for sure I could make a go of it. Not that I didn’t love the apartment. It had a huge open-plan design, with a large exposed-brick wall and high ceilings, two bedrooms, and a deep soaker tub.

And right about now, when my mood was in the shitter, it felt worth it.

I grabbed a spiked cider from the fridge and then sank into a scalding-hot bath up to my neck for what should’ve been a celebration for a successful evening. But it was too quiet in the bathroom by myself, with just the echoing of my own breath reflected back at me off the subway tiles, and my brain kept replaying the whole sidewalk standoff for me. The exciting flash of Jared’s eyes when he’d shouted, my own temper licking at my insides. I hadn’t let loose like that in far too long, and as much as I hated to admit it, a teeny-tiny part of me had… liked it. The broken-down walls and unleashed emotions stirred something long dormant.

My cock gave an unwelcome twitch.

Fuck. Nope, not going there.

I heaved myself out of the tub and threw on a robe, tightening the sash and leaving wet footprints all the way to the living room, taking my still-full drink with me. I’d unpacked most of my knickknacks, but nothing would make my apartment feel like home more than my own pseudo family. I turned on Lonely Alpha on the TV, then booted up my laptop and brought up the fan chatroom.

These other fans weren’t what you would call friends, exactly. I didn’t know their real names or what they looked like, where they lived, or any personal details of note, but we all shared one important trait—we all had an unhealthy obsession with Lonely Alpha . After every episode, we would all descend on the chat room and gush—or complain—about the characters. I was a bit behind, since tonight’s episode had aired while I was at the speed-dating event, so I hit play on the recorded episode and tried to catch up before I inadvertently saw any spoilers in the chat.

It was a particularly spicy episode. First there was a kitchen challenge, with each of the omegas trying to make Leo his favorite food—tacos. The prize? Whoever made the best tacos won a solo date, which obviously everyone wanted. Aside from the total sexist nature of the challenge, it was pure entertainment, and soon, I was thoroughly distracted from my own drama. It didn’t hurt that my cider was making my insides all warm and fuzzy.

All of these omegas appeared totally inept in the kitchen. One of them apparently didn’t have a clue that there were different kinds of meat or cheese. Another one seemed determined to use a dull knife to cut tomatoes, resulting in a whole mess. And in one case, the tacos were so spicy that Leo had to spit it out, his face turning bright red with tears streaming down his face as he coughed and choked.

In the end, it came down to two contestants, and Leo hemmed and hawed and finally picked the blond fitness instructor, Clark, which led to a whole date montage of heated gazes and lingering touches while they had a candlelit dinner for two in the backyard by the pool, before the two of them disappeared behind a closed door where the camera couldn’t follow.

Unable to wait for the end of the episode, I quickly jumped in the chat.

CreamyJoe: Just catching up. (No spoilers!) Just wondering… who thinks Leo actually had sex with Fitness Barbie?

BottomsUp: Who wouldn’t? I’d do either of them. Or both of them. Any combination of them. Do you think they have twins? *bow chicka bow wow*

I rolled my eyes. Whoever BottomsUp was, they were always a real horndog, but honestly, at this point I’d been celibate for so long, I couldn’t disagree.

My eyes moved back to the TV where the aftermath was exploding in the house. There was no bitch-slapping or hair pulling—yet—but the omega who’d lost the challenge, Marty, had decided to go for a little payback. He added superglue to the handle of Clark’s coffee mug the next morning. Things just devolved from there into a smashed mug and a screaming match until they both stormed off. But then, a night-vision camera showed Clark sneaking into Marty’s bedroom at night with a bowl of warm water, presumably to put Marty’s hand in it while he was sleeping. The final scene was of Marty’s closed bedroom door and the silence broken by a yelp, bleeped-out curses, then a shot of Marty making a mad dash for the bathroom with a hand over his crotch.

CreamyJoe: Ooh, damn! Marty started a war. This is gonna get messy. Remind me to stock up on popcorn.

RainbowRob: Tell me about it! This is way better than that time last season when Nolan pulled off Travis’s hairpiece and threw it in the oven on broil.

Dripdrip69: Can you imagine the stank that musta caused?

BJz4dayz: I heard they had to evacuate the set cause everybody started puking.

BananaSunday: I know a guy who knows a guy who works the set, and I can confirm. They cleared the neighbors out too.

MuffinTop: I know I’ve had my doubts about the show, but I just had a shit day, and you know what? For some reason, staged or not, this disaster made me feel better.

CreamyJoe: Same, Muffin. Same.

BananaSunday: So, who do we think is going to win this thing?

MuffinTop: Who cares? As long as they keep these two catfighting right to the bitter end. Is there a petition I can sign?

That night, I fell asleep with a smile on my lips. It was important to remember that everything had gone according to plan. The event had a great turnout, everyone had a good time, the drinks and snacks were a success, and I knew with absolute certainty that some of those people would return as paying customers.

Jared? He’d been a bit of a wild card, but even that hadn’t been entirely awful. Even if it was just for an hour, I’d felt more alive than I had in a long time. I’d felt seen, wanted . He’d rekindled something in me that I thought I’d lost when my pops died—my fighting spirit.

As I drifted off, I laughed softly. Pops would’ve loved him.