Page 3 of Shopping for His Omega (Omegas of Oliver Creek #15)

Daniel

If I couldn’t make my home something new, I could throw myself into the comfort of the past. And, tonight, that meant banana bread. I baked it every week, as my omega dad had, filling the house with its delicious, warm scent.

But where Dad had made a very traditional banana-walnut flavor, I liked to challenge myself and try out variations on the theme. So, at least, I had that to look forward to. My evenings were very much scripted, and tonight was banana bread night.

First, a shower. Might be silly to shower before baking and doing home chores, but to me the water and soap and bubbling shampoo were a transition from the market with all its scents, to home.

I might be surrounded by furniture more than thirty years old, but at least I could smell like grown-up me.

Before Mav came to town with his newly minted pharmacy license and hotness, I had been filling my freezer with banana bread, finally donating it to the local shelter.

I still did that, and I had considered making more and selling it at the shop.

We didn’t have a full bakery there, since there wasn’t enough room.

Not a supermarket! Just a pop-and-pop shop, at least until I became the owner, which made it a… shop with no pops.

Drying off, I tried not to let thoughts of Mav take up too much space in my head. The day I met him, my wolf recognized the rabbit as his mate, but if that were true, wouldn’t he recognize us as well? Rather, he never seemed particularly interested in talking to me beyond hello and goodbye.

I pulled a pair of shorts on and padded barefoot into the kitchen to make a sandwich for dinner and get started on the quick bread.

While surfing the net, I’d found a banana bread recipe that called for fall spices and a cinnamon butter on the side.

It sounded so perfect for this time of year, and I was excited to see how it would come out.

As the days grew shorter and the leaves turned, I got as excited as anyone else about warming flavors like cinnamon and clover… and ginger.

Peanut butter and jelly on whole wheat might not be fancy, but it was easy and had protein enough that my wolf did not fuss too much.

Particularly when I promised him a hunt later in the week when he could decide the menu.

And he loved banana bread night. Frustrated that our omega was not recognizing us as his alpha, he grasped at the feeding of Mav as a first step in our courtship.

Amazing that he even recognized the concept, since shifters and their beasts did not usually engage in the human dating rituals. But, with our mate not behaving as expected, other methods had to be employed. Thus, the banana bread.

Finished with my sandwich, I tucked the plate in the dishwasher and turned to baking.

One of the advantages to owning my store was access to any sort of food I wanted to cook, and sometimes I fantasized about bringing home beautiful produce and meats and everything it would take to create beautiful meals for a family of my own.

Recently, I’d pictured Mav seated across from me at the table enjoying a meal with me.

But with it just being me, frozen dinners or sandwiches were the usual.

If I wanted something better, the town offered so many delicious options that came with the additional benefit of visiting with other locals, so a couple of nights a week I’d have a better meal.

Even the food trucks were a step above anything I’d ever eaten elsewhere, and the PBJ place…

well, the bread, peanut butter, and plum jam on my dinner tonight came from there.

So. Good.

But the ingredients for my weekly baking came right from the store, even the past-their-best-appearance bananas.

Overripe made the best banana bread. I set a couple of sticks of butter on the counter to soften while assembling everything else and preheating the oven.

The general techniques for most of the versions were pretty similar.

Mix the dry ingredients, add the wet, stir, all the same motions I went through each week.

If my mate were living here, I’d bake more things, for sure. What would he like?

The pan greased, I divided the batter between them and slid them into the oven.

As it warmed, the scents of the spices and the bananas as well as the pecans I’d toasted the night before to get a head start, filled the room.

It all smelled so delicious. When I whipped the butter with cinnamon, my mouth watered.

One loaf for Mav and one for the freezer to donate later.

I rarely got to taste what I prepared, not wanting to cut into one of the loaves for a single slice.

I could have made a cupcake-sized one for myself, but I didn’t want to make one of the others less impressive, so I just breathed the steam and looked forward to others enjoying them.

While the loaves baked, I cleaned the kitchen and loaded the bowls and measuring cups and utensils in the dishwasher, adding soap.

Then I went into the living room and watched one of my favorite reality shows, one of those where people are assigned challenges and try to take each other out.

I wasn’t proud that I loved it—it was anything but cerebral, but it was entertaining, and everyone deserved a little fun.

I woke to the buzzer of the oven timer, started to realize almost an hour had passed, and went into the kitchen to take care of the loaves.

I would let them sit on the cooling rack until morning, not wanting to wrap them until they finished cooling.

It helped keep the bread from sticking to the plastic film, and I also believed wrapping them too soon would make them less tender.

My long day at the store and evening’s tasks helped me to sleep straight through until my alarm went off shortly before dawn, and I rose to get one loaf frozen and the other ready to drop off.

The store opened fairly early, so after I left one loaf in Mav’s mailbox, I continued on to work and began another day.

The new display was getting a fair amount of attention from the customers, at least one of whom remarked that now they could do all their shopping with us, unless they had a prescription.

I did point out that wasn’t strictly true, since our array was very small, but the twinge of guilt returned. Was I taking business from Mav?

The rabbit worked at least as long as I did and often longer, so it was not totally a surprise when I ran into him on his way home.

Every time I saw him, I was trying to think of a way to ask him out, but when I greeted him, he said, “Oh, I heard you’re stocking medicine now.”

Not a great time to ask for a date.