Page 8 of Small Town Shy Omega (Applewood Falls #1)

I didn't need to fill my car for three whole weeks, because Josh filled it. He didn't even need to ask—didn't make a big deal out of it, he simply… Took my car to the station. He filled it, then drove it home. He must’ve found my keys on the rack.

Caring. Protecting. Alpha. And kind, so kind.

My Alphas didn't need to ask me to serve me, they just would see something was the matter… and they helped. Fixing things came easy to them, and when my plumbing busted earlier in the month, Blake was there with tools while Dreydon snaked out my pipes.

I’d never seen a hotter sight, and I watched drooling as Dreydon plunged the snake deep into the drain hole. He wiped grease on his blue jeans, masculine intensity and sweat radiating from him.

“His time in the military taught him skills,” Josh explained one day, and I furrowed my brow, for I didn't know Dreydon served in the military.

“Dreydon,” I asked one day, curious to get to know him better. “Josh said you served. What branch were you?”

Dreydon’s heavyset black-and-gold-flecked eyes stared into the distance. He didn't want to talk about it. That much was certain.

That night, I stayed up until the morning fretting about Dreydon. What branch was he in? Had he seen war, had he been overseas?

I pictured Dreydon donning a uniform, and a chill barreled through me. Around me, Dreydon was a consummate Alpha. He cared for me. Protection ran through his blood, like a live wire. The desire to keep me safe was in his veins.

At last, he finally told me Army.

I imagined Dreydon marching through a desert, machine gun in hand. Enemies swarmed the hills in the distance. He growled, sand blowing against his beard as sweat dripped down his neck. “Let me,” he growled to his Army brothers, demanding that he and only he be permitted to take out the target.

When I awoke in my nest, I was covered in a cold sweat. I’d never pictured anything more terrifying, Dreydon single-handedly taking out over a hundred men.

When I scurried down to the kitchen later, I went right up to Dreydon.

Sitting beside him, I wrapped the scar-ridden Alpha in a hug.

Yes , I saw as I hugged Dreydon tight, inhaling his masculine scent, he was covered in scars… I didn't see it earlier, I was so foolish.

Dreydon had scars. Manly scars, that he’d received in war.

Battle, where he’d been fighting in a foreign country, protecting the vulnerable. Protecting Omegas like me.

“Thank you,” I whispered in Dreydon’s ear, and he turned a confused brow on me.

“For what?” came his throaty, clueless growl.

My fingers went to his scars, touching them. “For serving.”

“Oh, I got that scar changing a tire one time,” he growled, eyes gazing at some unseen past danger. “Just kidding, yeah I did get that overseas.”

That afternoon, I applied a petal-and-mulberry paste, that I researched when I look up scar fading ointments, to Dreydon’s scars.

“Here,” I whispered, using all I had to make it easier for Dreydon. The paste was supposed to burn a bull; even the most ferocious beasts couldn’t withstand the mulberry burn, as it removed scar tissue.

Dreydon merely looked down, a shudder going through him. “Hardly stings,” he growled, and when we checked his scar the following morning, the paste hadn’t worked at all.

I grew frustrated, but Dreydon put his hand on mine. “It’s okay, Layla. Don’t get upset.”

“I wanted to heal your scar,” I muttered, hot tears burning. I could hardly lift my eyes, stare at him.

Dreydon took it upon himself to lift my gaze. He cupped my chin, touching it tenderly—gently, full of grace, not a hint of possessive cruelty. Not like my past pack, not like others had done to me.

“Layla,” Dreydon whispered, the deep low voice of the scarred warrior washing over me. “Don’t ever hide those pretty eyes from me again.”

“Pretty?”

“They shine like purple crystals,” Dreydon hummed, peering in deep. “Mauve and sparkle, wow. Fuck, I’d love to see them blown wide—in a heat-snap—with half-moon rings.”

“Thanks, Dreydon.” I let out a snort, wriggling away from him. Pretending like I wasn’t a weakling for a second, I punched his shoulder.

Dreydon growled, lifting my fingers… he could tell my fist was so tiny, so weak, it couldn’t do damage. Not like the bullets he faced in the Army, I thought as a chill swept through me.

Passion. Relief. Desire.

That’s what I felt when Dreydon lifted my chin, and it’s what I felt each time I was around my Alphas. It didn't matter whether it was Blake or Josh, or Dreydon when he was ripping apart my hood, growling as he adjusted tubes or replaced my motor oil.

Each Alpha cared for me, tended to my needs like only an Alpha could.

Never before had I been so wooed. So cared for, so swept off my feet.

“It’s really incredible,” I said to Gretel later in the week, a snort escaping me. “I mean, they do… Alpha things for me, Gret. Like you read about in novels.”

“I wish I had that,” Gretel sighed.

A few days later, Gretel came to me with tears in her eyes.

Gretel had a date last night, and the pack brutally rejected her. They told Gretel her business was silly, that no Omega could possibly support herself selling blueberry products, and that Gretel needed to grow up, and learn to submit to her Alphas.

Gretel was brokenhearted, and I hated seeing my normally chipper friend, who usually comforted me, so down.

Gretel’s Goodies, the name of her shop, was brimming with crocheted sweaters, little blueberry rock candies, and blue crystals when I arrived to have girl talk with Gretel. A bell dinged as I entered.

Gretel sat alone, knitting on a stool. Big tears rolled down her cheeks, and my heart broke.

“How are you, girl?”

Gretel sniffled as she turned her head up. “Oh, not very good.”

“You’re normally the one comforting me,” I said tenderly, wrapping my friend, who wore a stylish crocheted blue sweater, in a hug.

Gretel’s beautiful blue hair shook out. “I hate being in such a vulnerable position, because running a business obviously requires a girl to be strong, but I’m really going through it due to my botched date last night, girl.”

“Wanna pour some wine and tell me about it?” I knew that Gretel was famous for her proprietary blueberry wine.

Gretel snorted, shaking her head. “It’s the middle of the afternoon! Drinking during business hours would be highly unprofessional.”

“Since when is it wrong to have a glance of wine around noon, Gret? That’s how they do it in Italy,” and I laughed as I grabbed a bottle of blueberry wine.

Gretel reluctantly agreed, and soon we both sipped chilled wine, ate sherbet cookies and nibbled on the cheese cubes that Gretel set out.

“Every one of my dates goes down in flames. I put myself out there and try to be what Alphas want, but it never works. I’m either un-bondable or there are no good Alphas left in Applewood Falls.”

“Can I be honest?” I said. “You know I’ve felt the same way. That there are no good Alphas left. But things have a funny way of changing, Gret.”

“Oh, how?”

“I’m actually hosting a pack in my cottage. It’s the one who’s courting me, of course.”

Gretel’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding!”

“They’re making me chicken noodle soup and we’re going swimming tonight.” Tears welled in my eyes, but I suddenly felt guilty. And terribly selfish for blabbing about my date tonight, when I’d come to Gretel’s Goodies to comfort my friend.

“Sorry,” I then muttered, sipping blueberry wine. “Enough about me.”

“Hearing about your stargazing date tonight actually takes the pressure off me, believe it or not. It gives me hope: finding a pack may not be impossible, even though right now it feels like it is.”

“Tell me about the pack from last night,” I urged, wanting to hear Gretel’s full story. “What did they say? What did they do?”

Gretel sniffed. “The date started off good. We were at Marion’s downtown, the Italian place.”

“Oh, that’s a great restaurant.”

“They paid for my meal, so at least that was fine. But then the pack started off by telling me that I needed to dye my blue hair.”

“What?!”

“Blue hair isn’t becoming of Omegas anymore. It connotes something abrasive, like you’re a…” Gretel’s voice trailed off.

“Tell me, girl.” I put my hand on Gretel’s arm.

“They said it was off-putting. No Alphas would want me, and it looked like I’d complain a lot.

I told them to fuck right off, but they only looked at each other and said my response solidified their views of me.

In the animal kingdom, they said, blue-skinned frogs connote poison.

Their skin’s a warning sign, keeping predators at bay. ”

“In this case, your blue hair performed its function!”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Gretel let out a huff. “The pack then lectured me that I wasn’t Omega enough to be dating. They said that unless I was willing to stay in the kitchen, put on an apron, and serve them, they’d never want me.”

“I hope you told them that you didn't want them!”

“That’s precisely what I wound up saying. They paid for my meal, scoffed at me, and then said that if I ever wanted a serious pack, the first step I needed to take was changing my blue hair.”

“I can’t honestly believe they said that. What a bunch of fucks.”

“The meal was good, though. I had chicken á la vodka, and the wine was superb. The garlic bread was great, and I actually brought home three slices that the pack didn't eat. Fuckers said they were carb counting. They looked at me like I was crazy to take the garlic bread.”

“Girl.”

“I thought they were crazy to not eat the garlic bread. Okay, I have curves, and? Life isn’t good if you never enjoy yourself. Garlic bread gives me great joy. My joy is a part of my mental health. Therefore, garlic bread is healthy.”

“I love the way you think,” I cackled and we sipped our wine.

I twirled the blueberry wine around my glass. “How do you even make this, girl?”