Chapter Six
Brad
He had been unable to settle when Morty left him to head back to work—because Brad wasn’t sure if it was pregnancy hormones or just that Morty wasn’t good at relaying information—Brad was no more able to identify if Lionel was indeed his mystery mate or not.
To avoid having to explain himself to his workers, Brad took himself down to the basement to work alone.
There he’d stewed in his own juices feeling the need to do something—anything—but not sure what. Now he was dirty and tired to the bone as he dragged his ass up the stairs to the café.
The place was nearly empty and close to closing time when Brad’s gaze swept the near empty shop. He was hoping to grab something to take home and, feeling unmotivated to consider making dinner, he veered in the direction of the now empty shelves.
Niall was at the counter, which was unusual from what Brad had observed. “Hey, Niall. You been left in charge for a change?”
Niall chuckled while swiping at the counter. “As if! Toby is grabbing a box of steak pies and chocolate éclairs for Lionel, Hector’s best friend.”
“Is he coming here to collect them?” Brad aimed for casual as he shoved his dirty, trembling hands into the front pockets of his work pants. Was this it? Was he going to meet Lionel? Heck, it was all he could think about.
Niall shook his head, dropping the cloth he was using to take a stack of dirty dishes on a tray that a woman brought up. “Thanks Lydia. Free cake of your choice next time.” Niall winked flirtatiously at her as she blushed and waved him off.
Brad glanced between the two. He was sure that Niall was gay. Only Lydia didn’t seem to notice because it sure looked like she was interested, the moon eyes she was giving Niall, making the moment turn awkward as it continued.
Brad’s booted foot tapped impatiently as he waited for Lydia to leave so he could carry on the conversation, hating that he felt like a deflating tire with a slow puncture.
“Silly, you know I don’t mind helping,” she finally responded, giving Niall’s arm a gentle pat.
“You’re a treasure.”
The color in her cheeks deepened further as she finally turned toward where a bag sat on a seat, saying, “See you next week.”
“Look forward to it.”
The second she disappeared out the door, Niall walked back toward the kitchen with the tray. Brad debated for one second before deciding to follow. His poodle was fully on board with breaking a few rules.
“Do you need something, Brad?” Morty asked from the counter giving him a quick grin before stacking éclairs into a pretty box while Toby stood next to him munching on one as Brad entered behind Niall.
Niall turned with a look of surprise.
All three sets of eyes gave him varying looks of speculation.
He got it, he avoided the kitchen mostly, and didn’t tend to come in covered in who knew what.
Brad had a moment to wonder if Morty had picked up something from their earlier conversation about Lionel.
It was possible. He hadn’t been very subtle about asking what he looked like.
Although he’d not explained why. “I was after something for dinner. Those éclairs look good.”
“Brad!” Morty exclaimed. “This is the only batch I made, and I promised to Uber them to Lionel with the steak pies he’s requested. Only he seems to have forgotten to send the Uber, so I’m sorting it now.”
Brad eyed the one Toby was eating.
“He stole it out of the box when I wasn’t looking,” Morty explained, giving Toby the stink eye. Or the best impression of it, which had no effect on his friend, who popped the last bit in his mouth, then licked his fingers, grinning.
“I could drop them off for you.” Brad didn’t give himself a chance to change his mind, warming quickly to the idea of getting to meet Lionel and to find out if he was the guy he’d scented last night.
Yes, it might look odd, a complete stranger rocking up with a food delivery, but wasn’t that what Uber Eats did?
It wasn’t like he’d heard anything back from Remy, and he’d checked repeatedly. What other options did he have? “Honestly, I don’t mind if I get an éclair for my trouble.” Did he sound as anxious as he felt when all three men were eyeing him funnily?
“You don’t know where he lives. It could be miles out of your way,” Niall pointed out, having forgotten he still held the tray until Toby took it off him.
Heading to the sink, Toby nodded. “It’s a great éclair, but driving miles out of your way… yeah, that doesn’t make sense.”
“You have met me, right? The guy who eats cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if given the chance.” Brad gave his best winning smile as Morty finished packing the pies. His ears were buzzing with how fast his pulse was pounding.
“That’s true. Okay, I’m sure Lionel won’t care who drops off his pies and éclairs.” Morty lifted the boxes and offered them to Brad, giving him a warning. “Just don’t go eating them all on the way.”
Brad stood there waiting when Morty said nothing else. The others laughed seconds later.
“Morty, Brad needs the address,” Toby prompted smothering his laughter.
“Hormones,” he complained, “it’s all hormones. I was never this bad before.” He shook his head and reached for his cell phone when Toby coughed and snorted. “Let me text you the address. What’s your cell number?" Morty asked, ignoring Toby.
Minutes later, feeling like he’d eaten a concrete slab with how heavy his stomach felt, Brad set off after checking the address. The traffic was light, and as he followed the GPS, he realized just how close his home was to Lionel’s.
Three blocks—they only lived three blocks apart! It’s a sign .
He parked outside the big house that only had one light on in the downstairs window and groaned at what his animal pointed out. You’ll take anything as a sign. Surely you need to go and have a wash and change your clothes first?
Why couldn’t you have said that before I parked? Now if he looks out and I drive off, he’ll think I’m a moron.
Better than smelly, in my opinion.
Are you kidding me!
Give over when it’s the truth. Not all men like a manly scent. He’s an alpha, and you’re supposed to be a sweet-smelling omega.
Where do you get this crap from? Although Brad was second-guessing himself and figuring it was probably best if he drove home and had a shower, or at least a change of clothes.
It was then that the door to the house opened, and Brad’s mouth opened, and no sound came out as he drooled at the hunk peering out at him.
Everything about the giant made Brad pant.
The wavy shoulder-length hair that gleamed in the light haloing him.
The green of his eyes were as captivating as they had been when he had first seen them.
To the vast chest in the skinny T-shirt that showed off every rippling muscle beneath, as if sculpted for his body, made Brad weak at the knees.
His gaze traveled down slim hips in a low-slung pair of sweats that clung to powerful thighs, making Brad grateful he was inside the car so no one could see his reaction.
The press of his cock against the fly of his dirty work pants was uncomfortable, yet he did nothing to help his situation when all he could do was look his fill.
See, you should have gone and had a shower.
To his embarrassment, he had to agree with his poodle, having time to be more presentable for his mate— this has to be Lionel —was most definitely called for.
The gazes held, and Brad could see Lionel’s lips moving, but with the door closed he couldn’t hear. Then Lionel came down the front porch barefoot, and Brad gulped and squeaked in fright.
Oh, gods, he’s coming to me. What do I do?
What are you asking me for? You never listen to my ideas.
Brad didn’t have the wherewithal to argue with Lionel now peering in through the driver's window. Not too close, but close enough for Brad to see the hints of gold flecks in his eyes.
“Are you my Uber? Do you have a food delivery for a Lionel,” he asked, glancing at the boxes on the back seat.
Brad remained mute as he pressed the button to open the window to ensure he hadn’t got this all wrong and became overwhelmed with the same intoxicating scent, which sent his body into hyper-drive.
Dry mouth, check. Racing pulse, check. Lightheaded, check. Raging boner, check. A hunk of a mate, check.
What do I do now?
He placed his hands on his lap and offered his cutest smile when his poodle sniffed indignantly. “I’m Brad.”
You’re a moron.
“Okay… nice to meetcha… can I have my food?” Lionel edged back from the door.
What? Why is he moving away?
See, a moron. He’s making room so you don’t whack him with the car door. That’s it, I’m taking charge.
Brad didn’t have a chance to object as he shifted and found himself tangled in a pile of grubby clothes.
“Holy shit. Where did you go?”