41. Greg
It’s a delightful shock when people know what I’m talking about…
or singing. It happens sometimes, but not as often as I’d like.
That’s ok. I just didn’t expect this stuffy alpha to have the slightest clue what I was doing.
He watches me intently as I finish whistling the song that’s going to be stuck in my head for the next week at least. It’s definitely an earworm, to be sure.
But I don’t mind. Music makes me happy. Besides, Sarah seems to be a bit preoccupied with the big guy, and entertaining people still feels like my calling.
What I wouldn’t give to have my guitar on me. Oh well.
Winding down the tune, the smaller blond—he’s still a bit taller than me, but not the size of the hulk watching my omega right now—has his hand over his mouth, trying to suppress his laughter.
So at least someone finds me amusing. Alistair, or Al as he will forever be in my mind, is nodding along with the music and looking at least somewhat pacified after Sarah dubbed him with a new nickname.
It’s one of the things she does to people she likes, and I don’t know if it’s because she sucks at remembering people’s names, or her way of claiming them for herself.
Still, I need to keep an eye on her; she looks like she’s about to climb Spence and use him for a perch.
Not that he seems like he’d mind. Nope, he looks fascinated, staring down at my omega.
He seems like a pretty upstanding guy. I talked to him at length yesterday, and he’s super laid-back.
It‘s not as if I plan on playing matchmaker or anything, but if I’m being honest, that asshole back at the center is a dead end for my sweet girl.
She’s too damned good for that dickbag, and he keeps yanking her around like a fucking toy.
It pisses me off every time he comes to see her, though thankfully those times have been few and far between.
I don’t trust him any farther than I can throw him, probably less than at this point.
Sarah’s been taking me to the gym on the regular, and while it’s not my jam, it does mean I’ve gotten in a lot better shape now.
She and Spence are still just staring at each other, and even I’m starting to feel awkward about the situation.
It’s unclear if I need to interrupt or step between them.
I trust her to decide what she wants, but I don’t want to make these guys uncomfortable.
They know their packmate better than me, but he doesn’t look upset by the situation—he looks fascinated.
Then again, so does she, like there’s a puzzle she can’t quite figure out.
Ugh, I don’t want to move to Mississippi.
I mean, I’ll follow her anywhere, but fuck me.
The weather here is nuts.
The mosquitoes are horrible.
My family is too damn close for comfort.
Maybe they won’t realize I’ve moved closer.
It’s still a few hours’ drive away, thank fuck.
I doubt I could handle seeing them again, especially if they made it their goal to visit regularly.
Maybe I can change my name and bleach my hair out.
Go into hiding from the fam, like the witness protection program, only with relatives instead of mob bosses and shit.
I could rock the blond look, but the music scene here looks abysmal.
Do I know any bluegrass? I doubt I could pull off that twangy vibe for country, not that it’s my jam, but I could for her.
Better slow my roll; we haven’t made any decisions yet.
Aaannnnddd…they’re still just staring at each other.
Ok, this has officially gotten weird.
“Hey, um…Sarah? Honeybun? Sugarbear?” Now I’m just trying to annoy her, and by the look she’s throwing my way, it seems like I’ve succeeded.
Progress. At least they aren’t making moon eyes at each other anymore.
Well, Spence is, but my little omega is looking at me like she wants to bite me, and not in the fun way.
I need some kind of distraction, but it’s unlikely that she’ll fall for “Hey look, air!”
“Paint swatches?” I suggest, unhelpfully, pushing her attention back to the big guy.
I honestly don’t care if they want to fuck, I just don’t want to get arrested on this trip.
It’s never fun, and then there’s the whole bail and court issue.
It’s just inconvenient, and I have no doubt that Sam and Teddy would come get us, but it’s just easier not to have my omega get carted off for public indecency, ’cause I’d have to go with her, and this intense eye contact could set the fucking store on fire with all the heat…
and fabrics. Do they make these things flame retardant?
My hand reaches out to snag a pillowcase off the shelf to check the label.
Not that I think she’d really go for a puce, but the texture has a nice feel, and the flammability should be the same.
There’s no information here…that seems like a hazard? Don’t you want a nest, with all the cloth, to be less flammable? I doubt there’ll be that much friction going on, but it still seems like bad planning to me.
Shit, I’m distracted.
At least they’ve stopped the intense, longing gaze.
Spencer has six little slips of colored paper in his hand that he’s showing to Sarah.
She looks intently at each of them, before pointing at her favorite two.
Her taste runs more to turquoise than lavender.
I don’t think she minds the burnt umber either, but the only thing similar to that back at the apartment is a set of plates in the kitchen nook.
Most of her nest is a calming blue and green; it reminds me a lot of the ocean.
The walls are, of course, the standard industrial greige that so many public buildings have.
She’s put up some blacklight posters too, but there is only so much you can do to disguise the industrial feel of that and the matching carpet.
Spence is smiling like a huge dork as he watches her face for any sort of reaction to his color choices.
This man is hopelessly into Sarah already, and while he seems like a cool guy, I’m not sure about the rest of his pack.
Turning my attention back to Paul and Al, I try to take in their reaction to the scene unfolding before us.
Paul has a small smile on his face as he watches the big guy.
He seems pretty nonthreatening. Kelly said earlier that he’s a good guy—a cop, no accounting for taste in employment options, I guess—but all around solid.
He helped her and her bosses out. She thinks we can trust him, so he gets a tentative pass for now.
Al looks uncomfortable, which is understandable considering the intensity they were throwing off a minute ago, but I don’t think that’s it.
In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was a bit green around the gills.
Oh god, is he gonna barf?
Please, my dude, do not vomit in this store.
I’m a sympathetic barfer, and if he pops, I will, and it’ll just be a huge mess.
The smell will just be terrible, and we’ll probably have to pay for everything to be fumigated or just buy it outright.
I know for a fact she doesn’t want this damned puce pillowcase, so I better put it back before it gets in the splash zone.
Then I wave my hand in front of Al’s face, drawing his attention to me.
Maybe I can get him outside before he blows.
“Hey there, my guy? You feelin’ ok? Need a trip outside for some fresh air, or a bathroom break?
” Fuck me, I sound condescending. Dude’s older than me; he’s probably gonna be offended that I’m talking to him like a toddler.
But I’m used to dealing with omegas or musicians.
Not that I have to talk down to them either, but sometimes leading someone along with pointed questions is the fastest way to get results.
Especially if alcohol or overactive hormones are involved.
Al glares at me for my trouble, and I put my hands up.
“Sorry, dude, but you’re looking a little ill.
If you’re gonna be sick, I just want to escape while I can.
” He looks from me to Sarah, probably wondering if I would drag her along with me if I skedaddle, but no dice.
She’s on her own in the case of vomit. I love her, but I’m not gonna fight her to make my escape.
She’d most likely kick my ass for the trouble.
Al shakes his head at me and takes a deep breath, releasing it on a sigh.
“No, Greg. I’m just…concerned. Spencer is important to us, and he seems quite enamored already.
He’s not the most experienced person, and…
I don’t want him to get hurt.” I start to reply that Sarah wouldn’t hurt him, but Al cuts me off.
“No, I know she wouldn’t do anything on purpose, but…
how can I say this? Spencer falls in love, very quickly and very easily.
And it wouldn’t even take her trying. But in a week you’ll be gone, and Paul and I will be left to pick up the pieces.
Even if she doesn’t try to hurt him. I’m afraid he might already be gone for the young lady. I’m just worried for my friend.”
There’s more he’s not telling me, and I don’t want to push, but I’m not sure he’s right either.
The way Sarah is with this guy is more engaged than she’s ever been with John, and he’s her scent match.
He’s also a total piece of shit, but I’m following her lead on that one.
I’ll support her no matter what her choice.
Al is right that it’s no fun to pick up the pieces of a broken heart, and if I’m being honest, I’d rather see her with somebody who looks at her the way the big guy does than the disregard she gets back home.
I remind myself that it’s not my job to play matchmaker for my mate, but it’s hard right now. Especially with such a bright smile on her face.