Page 28 of The Omega's Fake Mate

My mother sighed. “I expect the two of you to be here at seven Thursday night.”

“We'll be there.”

Before my mother could say anything else, someone rang the door downstairs. Perfect timing. I was ready to end this call anyway. “Sorry, Mother. Someone's at the door. I have to go see who it is.” Before she could protest, I hung up.

When I went down, I was greeted by my next-door neighbor, Mrs. Fawnston, the handy lady who owned the arts supply store next toTall Tales.“Terribly sorry to disturb you,” my middle-aged neighbor said. “I was supposed to get a delivery today, but I was out on a short errand earlier. Is there any chance they dropped it off with you?”

“I'm sorry, I didn't get anything.”

“Oh, that's too bad. I was going to make a batch of new candles tomorrow. Now I'll have to call there again and ask where my wax is.” She shook her head. “Oh well, I won't disturb you any longer.”

“You're not disturbing me. Quite the opposite, actually. You got me off my phone with my mother.”

Mrs. Fawnston shot me a mildly disapproving look. “Be nice to your mother, Zander. I wish my children would call me more often.”

“Your children actually have a mother, though. All I have is a matriarch.”

“I'm sure it's not that bad.”

“Yeah, it is.” A shuffling noise from behind me made me look at the stairs. Betty had come down, her leash in her mouth and an expectant look on her face. I had to laugh. Betty was never going to let me forget her evening exercise.

“Looks like you need to go,” Mrs. Fawnston pointed out. “But before I forget, I finished reading your book. It was lovely, as always. We should have a chat about it sometime this week.”

“Absolutely!” Mrs. Fawnston was an avid reader—which was perhaps why I liked her. She was also one of the few people who had figured out my pen name. I'd been giving her my books for early feedback ever since. As I walked her walk back to her store, I wondered what she might say if I told her I was about to do the same thing my characters did in my latest book—enter a fake relationship.

Responsible adult that she was, she'd probably tell me that it was a bad idea.

Iknewthat it was. For some reason, though, I just didn't care. I'd get to spend more time with Nick.

How bad could that be?

11

Nick

The next day, I couldn't stop Conner from coming with me to the bookstore again. I’d tried to distract him by offering to take him to his friend’s house instead, but apparently his friend had football practice or something equally ridiculous. Why did alphas always think they had to fight with other alphas over sewn-together pieces of leather?

In any case, I was stuck with Conner. Together we enteredTall Tales, accompanied by the soft chiming of the door bells. I spotted Zander behind his desk, dutifully scanning a lady's purchases. Once he was done with his customer, he came over to us.

To my surprise, he turned to Conner first. “Just the boy I wanted to see!”

Confusion was painted on Conner's features. “Me?”

“Yes, I got an order of books in this morning. C'mon.”

Conner and I both followed him to an old phone box he'd erected in the middle of the store. The smell of paint hung thick in the air. Zander must have given the phone box a new coat of color. In fact, when I glanced at him, I could spot faint red paint splotches on his hands. Wait, was this the phone box that used to stand outside the store when we were children?

I was still squinting at it when Zander started talking again. “Look in here. This took me all morning, but it's finally done.” He opened the door to the box. Narrow shelves lined the inside walls and on top of the shelves stood books. Not many yet, but a few. “I haven't got as many books yet as I'd like, but it's a start.”

Conner squeezed inside the box to look at the shelves more closely. “This is so cool. Like a walk-in closet. But for books!”

Zander watched him with a smile. “Kind of, yes.”

Conner stared at the books completely in awe. He took one, then another. “Are these all...?”

“They are!” Zander grinned just the way he had when we were kids and he’d won the school's chess tournament.

“They're what?” I asked, feeling a bit left out of the conversation.