Page 2 of Small Town Shy Omega (Applewood Falls #1)

I didn't forget the way his muscles bulged in his cotton shirt, warm and menacing.

Blake…

I wouldn’t forget his name, but I’d never talk to him again.

“It’s just such a shame,” I murmured, removing my glasses, “that I have no need for an Alpha in my life.”

I came back the next weekend, and the next Saturday morning after that. Each time, Blake sliced me peaches, and put them in a little cup, with a small spoon, for me to eat.

I’d said I never wanted to see the fair Alpha in the cotton shirt, muscles bulging, a little chest hair curling out of his shirt, again. Clearly, I’d lied to myself.

“My pack is lovely, Layla. They’re not after most Omegas we see in town.”

“Are you three new to the area?”

“We moved in a few years ago,” and Blake explained how his pack supported themselves with their construction business. He sold peaches from his backyard peach tree, he said, for extra cash.

I focused on my peaches, blocking out the soothing, radiant hum of Blake’s voice.

How like a man in my books he was, I thought, hiding behind the large strand of purple hair that fell over my glasses.

When I lifted my eyes, I saw two huge hands moving toward me… and Blake adjusted my hair.

Pushing it aside, he made it so I could see again.

“I’m not really looking for a pack,” I explained, peach dew sliding down my chin. “I rarely leave my nest, and my last few bonding arrangements haven’t really worked out.”

“Did you merely invite a pack in for heat relief, or because you were scent matches?”

“Heat relief,” I shrugged. “Thought it might lead to something more. Didn’t.”

“Shame,” Blake purred, and my heart pitter-pattered in my chest. “A pretty Omega like you should have some more serious Alphas in her life.”

“Serious?” I tried not to laugh.

“Fair Blake,” I said, advancing toward him. I set my peach cup on the table’s gingham tablecloth. “I know all about seriousness, and unfortunately most Alphas simply do not meet the bar.”

“Immature packs, then?”

“I’m fairly convinced they’re all the same,” I said breathily. “That’s why I am such a big reader.”

“The packs are better in your novels?”

“Oh, most yes.”

“And you use your novels for heat relief? As many Omegas do?”

A bluebird twittered by, its song mingling with the cardinals’ tweets. Vendors bagged vegetables in paper, the sounds of crinkly paper reaching my ears.

The palest blue sky shone overhead, only a few puffy clouds. And in my nose, the smell of hay from the surrounding farms, corn, fresh grass, and peaches.

“Is that a problem?” My voice was sharp, stern.

Blake shrugged, tugging on the grass he gnawed between his teeth. “It’s your life, Layla. Whether you want to spend it buried within the pages of a novel, or be courted by some Alphas who’d really like meeting you… It’s up to you.”

“Courting?” I scratched my temple, and my glasses nearly slipped down. Stay up, please.

Blake was nonchalant—not too interested, not really eager at all. Just… listening. Probing. But not even probing that sharply, as if he couldn’t be bothered by my question.

“We don’t have an Omega,” Blake shrugged. “And you lack a pack.”

“And I don’t want a pack,” I said sternly, ensuring my gaze was pointed.

“You’re not in your heat, are you?”

I sighed, my cheeks flushing. “My cycle doesn’t begin for a few more weeks.” A little before the May blossom festival.

He nodded.

“That’s why I haven’t been able to scent you, beautiful. But I will soon. When my pack mates, Josh and Dreydon, show up to woo you, I bet you’ll smell divine.”

“Look, Blake. My cottage is in total disrepair, I have too many books on my Tbr, and a pack bothering me at this busy moment will only distract me. Most packs… don’t really complement my life, and I have less stress when I’m single.”

“A pack should always make your life easier, fair Layla. You shouldn’t have to—" Blake’s voice trailed off, and he let out a growl. “Pick up after them. We are grown men, I promise you that. Grown Alphas. You won’t have to treat us like boys.”

“I have too much work,” I shrugged, not wanting to let him down harshly. “Thank you for the peaches, but I have to figure out how to…”

How to shingle my roof. How to re-grout my bathroom tiles. My garden fence was falling apart, and I could not lug the beams required to construct a new fence to its perimeter.

A gentle gust ruffled my hair, and I shivered as my parasol nearly fluttered away.

Blake reached out. He gripped my parasol—not too harshly, not invasively or anything like that.

Just… gripped it.

He held it tight, until the wind passed… until I could take it again.

“Layla,” Blake purred, and something romantic and… not at all sensible welled within me. “Allow us to court you, lovely. Serve you. Whatever you need, whether it’s physical labor on your cottage, or just a conversation partner, we’ll be there for you.”

I frowned, my cheeks rosy. I wished all my hair would blow down, so I could hide behind it.

“And you won’t press me?” I huffed, itching to cross my arms. “You won’t push me into things I don’t wish to do, won’t make me try things in the bedroom I have no desire to do?”

This was a lie: in my heats, I pretty much desired to do any and everything. And the novels I read gave me plenty of ideas.

Blake smiled, and it was a coy, charming smile.

Yet not too sweet—hardly even present, as if he was just smiling out of habit or the fleeting desire to be polite.

Blake turned away, letting go of my parasol.

“What’s your address?”

“One-oh-three Applewood Way,” I sighed, knowing I was behaving like such a Marianne.

Of the two sisters in Sense and Sensibility, a wise Omega should always choose Elinor.

Sense was the consummate virtue for all Omegas. My heart was veering straight into the troubled waters of Sensibility.

Knock knock knock.

Three light raps—nothing intense, no banging or anything scary, nothing too intensely Alpha.

Just… three raps.

One knock, two knock, three.

Peering out of my nest nook window, I shivered as I saw them. Blake stood with two strapping men.

The Alpha to his left had sandy blond hair, and a chiseled jaw. His eyes were emeralds, and he stared at me with an intensity that told me… Mine.

His muscles were well-honed, like he and Blake worked hard in the fields all day. Or, as I recalled Blake telling me, in their construction business.

My Omega purred, because most certainly I enjoyed that these Alphas were so… good at construction.

My eyes dipped to their hands, and I saw they were big and wide.

The Alpha to Blake’s right… intimidated me. He stood two heads over Blake, and he growled—softly, lowly—when he saw me. Black eyes sat framed in his heavyset face, yet when I peered closer, I saw they were flecked with gold.

Heavy tattoos ran up and down his arms, something like a vessel on one and a flame on the other. Military, I realized; and I was shocked to see, that this Alpha stood in such contrast to Blake and the other.

Tall, dark, and handsomely… deadly.

I am in danger around him, and my pulse twittered. My heart leapt to my throat, and my palms turned sweaty.

“Who… are these men?” I could hardly stay standing.

Blake bowed before me.

“My pack, sweet Omega. We’re here to court you—your gutters are clogged, as we can plainly see, and your fences need mending.”

“Which fences?”

“All,” Blake said softly—gently, and tenderly, not wanting to offend. “We’re sure you could do this yourself, being so strong and powerful… But we’re here to just, help.”

“Speed up the process,” the Alpha to his left growled…

And when the Alpha to his right spoke, my soul trembled.

Gritty, metallic, and dangerous.

Never before had I equated an Alpha’s voice to thunder.

The walls of my heart trembled, and even my skin vibrated. When he spoke, I felt cursed by a god.

“Fair Layla,” this last Alpha purred, his tattoos flexing along his bulging, tanned muscles. “We can do the work that you could so easily do, we know you can handle cottage upkeep—in one-tenth of the time. Allow us to put our Alphas to use, commanding us to do as we’re told.”

“My last pack said the same,” I murmured. “Why should I trust you?”

“A pack should always make life easier for an Omega, not cause more work.”

“And where will you stay?” I adjusted my soda-bottle glasses, without which I could not see. “I only have three guest bedrooms.”

Each Alpha looked at the others.

“Quite a large cottage,” one growled deep and low.

“Might be more than we bargained for,” the other growled back, and I felt… defensive.

Blake crossed his arms, looking me dead in the eye.

“The guest rooms are fine,” he murmured, keeping his voice neutral—betraying no disappointment, no resentment that I wasn’t letting him into my nest.

I looked around, fending off childish tears.

My cottage was my safe space, an homage to my grandfather’s memory.

I’d inherited after he passed, and it reminded me that not everyone saw me as worthless, unworthy of being a part of their family, as my stepparents had decided.

In these grounds, I walked silently, read novels, and took the air.

With Alphas around, I’d have no time to myself, though looking at their big muscles, I was confident they could do manual labor.

My mauve-and-sparkle eyes went back to them, and a chilled sigh escaped me.

“You may sleep in the guest bedrooms, then.” I only had three; I prayed no stray pack members would roll around, bugging me. “They have not been… cleaned in quite some time, and the roof in one has water damage—"

“We can fix that,” the biggest, brawniest Alpha of the three growled—and I clutched the door frame, for I felt faint.

“Well, come in,” I murmured, already mourning my loss of solitude. Personal space was all a girl had, after all. “You are forbidden in my nest, though. And anywhere near the nook.”

Blake nodded.

He didn't hold my jaw—didn't clutch it, nor force it to face him. When he touched my jaw, he just…

Held it.