CHAPTER SIX – LILY
“You’re smiling,” Otley says as I reached the end of Main Street and pull into the parking lot of the Aster Lodge, the biggest hotel in town. “I thought you’d be mad I outed you as my scent match.”
Instead of responding, I grab my invoice sheet, staring blankly at the printout as I try to douse the sizzle in my belly.
The last time I heard those words pass his lips, I was drunk on my haze, writhing on his knot and begging for his teeth in my scent gland.
“Well, there’s no denying you just sent the Knotty Falls’ switchboard into meltdown.
” I’m tempted to fan myself as I read the last delivery item for the third time.
Yep. Two standard arrangements for the Astor Lodge lobby, as per every other week of the year.
“But despite how I acted back there, I don’t really care what they think of me anymore. ”
Otley grunts and drums his fingers on the knee of his designer jeans. “You had the misfortune of going to school with them, I take it?”
I pull a face. “They were your typical mean girls, terrorizing anyone who couldn’t spot a Fendi bag at a hundred paces. My friends and I called them The Terrible Trio behind their backs. Based on what you said about labels and bullies, I guess we were kind of mean, too.”
He studies me in silence, but when I reach to open the door, he grabs my hand, his thumb circling my palm. I know he can feel all the little ridges and bumps that persist, despite my heavy-duty moisturizing routine. “You shouldn’t,” I mutter, staring down at our joined hands.
A silky brow lifts, his thumb still circling. “No?”
“My hands are a mess. Gloves can only do so much when you spend all day wrangling chicken wire and pitching garden stakes.”
I don’t know why I’m apologizing for working hard, but he finally releases his hold, and I quickly pull my hand back to my side of the center console.
I’m shoving the door open when he says in a low, serious voice, “You can tell from one glance that you nurture things, Lily. That’s a hell of a lot more attractive than a manicure and a silk dress. ”
I’m surprised by the sentiment, since most alphas expect at least that much effort from their omegas.
Not that I’m his, but I get the feeling that Otley James holds people to high expectations.
“Every omega likes pretty dresses,” I murmur and hop out of the truck.
“This is the last delivery, then I need to swing past the hardware store.”
I’m conscious of his eyes on my back as I carry the arrangements inside and hand them to Bobby in reception.
Usually, I’d hang around to chat, but I use his distraction with a guest to duck into a quiet alcove at the side of the lobby.
The air conditioning is doing its best, but I feel almost dizzy as I lean against the wall and stare down at my hands.
I can still feel Otley’s thumb on my palm, and it’s as if his gentle touch has drawn old memories to the surface of my skin.
Like the way those possessive fingers painted his initials on my breast in chocolate frosting, his throaty growl declaring it was his most treasured possession…
I hiss at the jolt of arousal that hums through me and wipe my clammy palms on my thighs.
Why the hell am I dredging up decade-old memories?
Bringing Otley along was clearly a bad idea.
It’s not just that his scent is so potent in the confined space of the truck, but his presence is stirring up things better left in the past. I need to remember that for every hot, tender moment that occurred in my first ever nest, there’s a bitter, hurtful one that I thought I’d scrubbed from my brain years ago.
Like the sight of Crest’s sneer as he accused me of being a gold-digging hick and first-class clinger.
It’s hard not to feel grimy as I remember how I fled the hotel in shame.
In fact, I’m tempted to leave Otley where he is and walk to True Value, except that I need to load the supplies into my truck.
Instead, I take a calming breath and march back outside.
He’s still sitting in the cab, but the window is rolled down, his shades tucked in his shirt and his tanned forearm resting on the edge.
I can feel his stare all the way to my door, but when I’m behind the wheel, I shake my head before he can speak. “One more errand and then we’re done.”
Maybe he can hear the resolve in my voice because he doesn’t break the silence as I circle the block to park at the hardware store.
He follows me inside, and I don’t object when he grabs a cart and pushes it at my heels.
I head over to the gardening section and make quick work of grabbing what I need until we stop in front of the shade sails.
They’re wrapped in plastic, but they’re still big and unwieldy, and I wonder if I should wait until Logan is back to grab them.
It’s not like I can install them on my own, given my aversion to ladders.
“Which ones do you want?” Otley asks after I’ve nearly burned a hole into the display with my frown. I hesitate, but when I point them out, he steps forward, casting a glance over his shoulder at me. “How many?”
I’d like six, but my budget extends to only half that.
“Four,” I finally reply, and he nods, grabbing the top one with surprising ease.
Not that I think he’s weak, or anything, but this is Otley James.
I’m pretty sure he’s never lugged around anything heavier than a squash racket, or whatever it is fancy alphas play in their spare time.
“Maybe I should wait until Logan is back…”
The look he sends me is a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “I think I can manage, Lily. Why don’t you grab anything else you need while I load these up?”
I fidget for a minute, but if I argue, I know I’ll just come off looking irrational.
Giving myself a mental shake, I head to the pet aisle to grab a jumbo bag of Bloomer’s kibble and a couple of pet toys, since he’s been so mopey with Leo away.
I’m studying the different dog collars when Otley appears at my back, standing close enough for me to feel his body heat.
“Someone in the doghouse?” he asked lightly.
I can’t resist a snort. “You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Bloomer yet. He’s a Houdini when it comes to slipping out of his collar.”
“This one looks heavy-duty,” he murmurs, selecting a thick, sturdy collar from the display.
He opens the buckle with a practiced flick of his thumb, and maybe it’s because I’ve just been in close proximity to those fingers, but I feel my breath catch.
He flexes the leather like he’s testing its durability, but when he glances at me, his eyes look darker, like metal under moonlight.
“What?” I ask, barely recognizing my breathy voice.
“Maybe if I’d claimed you like you asked, it would’ve been harder for you to slip away from us.”
Slip away? I don’t know how he can stand there and say that with a straight face.
“If there was any slipping,” I reply in a frosty tone, “it was you and Ellis, sneaking out of my bed the first chance you got.”
He frowns, stepping closer. “What are you talking about? We came straight back as soon as we could. You’re the one who left.”
“Don’t.” I only realize I’ve pressed my hand against his chest when he flexes, and I snatch it back like it’s on fire. “I’m not talking about this now.”
I try to step around him, but he blocks the way, his frown deepening. “You make it sound like we wanted to leave.” He tilts his head, something dangerous blooming in his gaze. “What did Crest tell you, Lily?”
Just hearing the man’s name spoken in the same breath as mine sends a shudder through me.
Shaking my head, I push past him and grab the cart.
I barely see my surroundings as I hurry towards the checkout.
Otley is right on my heels but doesn’t break our tense silence until we’re back out in the lot.
I’m moving as fast as I can, and when the cart’s wheels catch on a divot in the asphalt, he lunges forward to steady the shade sails before they tumble out. “Slow down, Lily…”
I turn my back on him, hefting my other purchases into the truck as fast as I can.
He sighs as he loads the shade sails, then returns the empty cart to the front of the store.
For the second time in an hour, I’m tempted to drive off and leave him, but what would that achieve?
He’d just turn up at my place and accuse me of slipping away like a coward.
I groan, grabbing my water bottle from the center console and chugging a drink as he climbs into the truck.
His scent swirls around me, more potent as it mingles with his sweat, and I grip the steering wheel in white fingers.
I know I need to lay down some rules – if only to preserve the shreds of my dignity – but Otley steals the words from my throat when he says, “I’m sorry if you thought we ran out on you, Lily, but we didn’t.
Ellis had a family emergency, and by the time we got back to the hotel, you were already gone. ”
I turn and stare into his face. I’ve studied it over the years, peering at glossy pictures and looking for some sign of the man who shared my first heat.
Aloof would be a polite way to describe the Otley James in magazines, his gray eyes stern and every inch of his face exuding the arrogance of a wealthy, powerful alpha.
The contrast to my hazy memories was so extreme, I sometimes wondered if he had a doppelganger out there, and that was the man who shared my nest.
I’m still blinking through my disjointed memories when he says, “The last thing we wanted to do was leave you, Lily.”
He looks sincere, but my cynical side reminds me that he’s had a decade to think up an excuse. “You told me you were getting breakfast. Was that the truth?”