Knot Happening

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Tatum

Once outside, I search the parking lot for Declan, so I can at least thank him, but I never spot the tricky Alpha. It’s for the best. I did steal from the man.

I nibble my bottom lip as I pull the shiny metal out of my pocket and get a closer look. There is a tarnished edge to the braided design. It’s clearly not brand new. He’s probably been wearing it for years. There’s a wiggle of guilt in my chest at the thought that it might have been special to him.

Now I feel like I have to text him. See if I can figure out how important the bracelet is. Maybe even give it back.

I don’t often consider how special an item is or isn’t to someone when I take things. I usually take stuff that looks new. Never rings. Or even stuff that looks like it wasn’t expensive. I would have taken the watch, if he’d leaned into me from his other side.

I clip it around my wrist and decide to wear it home. If I have to give it back, I should at least enjoy it while I can.

I’m in a bit of a daze as I start my walk home. What the heck else did he give me? Is that why I’m feeling so guilty about stealing from Declan?

I started stealing things after Hayden. An ache as deep as the sea cracks my chest open, and I shove away thoughts of that particular Alpha, but it’s too late. He creeps in anyway.

Like he always does when I think about him too often. I’d stolen from him over and over when things went to shit, starting the last three months of our senior year, after the incident . Little things, at first. His pencils and notebooks. Then his gym clothes. A few hoodies and even his sneakers. His dirty, sweat-soaked sneakers.

He never said a word, so I doubt he even noticed.

My thoughts trail back to Declan and the bags in my hand. My three items would have easily fit in one of these bags. So what’s in the other two bags?

Curiosity nags at me the entire way home. I’m basically sprinting up the stairs and into my apartment. Mom’s still exactly where I left her on the couch, but her eyes are open now, and she’s at least watching the TV that I left on. I take a second to turn the volume down since I left it freaking blasting.

I hustle into my bedroom, shut the door, and dump the bags out one at a time. Sure enough, my three items are in the first bag all together. Bag number two is also holding a pair of heels, but these? They could be worn to a nice dinner or a bar. They’re in a box with the same name as the sex shop, but the tag attached to the strap says Christian Louboutin Paris. I squint at the red bottom.

One of two things is happening. He’s a weirdo who carries around women's shoes. Or, they were meant for someone else. I guess option three would be that he’s a player and just has a stash of these ready to go at any moment.

I’ve never seen a real pair, from a lifetime of living paycheck to paycheck, so I have no idea if these are fake or not.

I shake my head and empty the contents of the last bag. The clean scent of summer rain hits me, but I still get the sense that the scent isn’t his, but whatever soap he uses.

I bite my lip, because hot damn . The sexiest set of red lingerie I have ever seen is lying on my ten-year-old pink comforter that I got for my birthday when I was eleven. I run my fingers over the silky soft material and shake my head. There’s even a garter belt and white stockings.

This would look fucking incredible on me. I check the size and lift a brow. They’re my exact size. That’s when I spot the note I missed before.

Tatum,

In case you change your mind about dinner. I look forward to your call.

-Declan

I scoff. The nerve of this Alpha. I pull out my phone and text the number written on my hand.

Tatum: Bold of you to assume I’d wear these to dinner. I’m a sweatpants and hoodie kind of girl.

His reply is immediate, and it makes me smile. I take a moment to save his name before reading it.

Cocky Alpha: You can wear both. Or neither. Neither is good too. Just the heels.

I’m giggling and shaking my head. I like the attention. I like that he’s so…pushy? I like being talked into things. I’m not good at asking for what I want. Or expressing my needs. He’s pursuing me in a way I enjoy, and even though I have no intention of having dinner with him, it feels good to flirt.

Tatum: Cute. Are these real? I've never seen red bottom heels before. Do you just keep a stash of them in your car? Ready to charm lucky Omegas everywhere, or am I special?

Cocky Alpha: You are certainly special. If I tell you how I acquired the heels so quickly, it’ll ruin the mystery. But I will say, no, they were not already in my car. And no, they weren’t for anyone else, Tatum.

Tatum: Hmm. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. I’m still not having dinner with you.

I sit down on the edge of my bed and pick up the heels. How much money could I get if I sell these? This chasm opens up in my chest at the thought of giving these heels away. Even if I do need the money. I could wear them once.

Just once, and then I’ll sell them.

Today is Saturday, and from what I’ve seen online, it’s better to go in on a weekday to apply for the club I’m trying to get hired at. Which means I have three more days of working at the diner down the street.

I think Mom picked this apartment for us so it would be easier for her to get to work, back when she still worked at the bank. I’m grateful for the convenient location.

I slip my shoes and socks off my feet and pull the heels on. I stand up and turn to my full-length mirror. Fuck, they look sexy as hell.

They’re a deep black leather with a strap over the toes and one around the ankle with a golden clasp. The arch of the shoe shows off the classic red bottom. Stunning.

I sigh.

Tatum: These aren’t very comfortable.

Cocky Alpha: They’re meant to be seen. Preferably over shoulders or hanging off the edge of a bed. Not for long hours on your feet.

I’m embarrassed to say how long the suggestion took to click. I gasp when I realize what he was implying.

Tatum: You have a filthy mind. This is kind of insane, you know that, right? I’m guessing these are expensive as fuck, and you do not know me. At all. Why would you give a random stranger such an extreme gift?

Cocky Alpha: Honestly?

Tatum: Obviously.

I take a second to change his name again, while I wait for him to type out his reply. My nerves are going crazy, and I need an explanation, but he’s typing too slow!

Declan: You’re stunning. All I could think about was bending you over in the middle of the shop and finding out if you tasted as good as you smelled. Your messy blonde hair would look so good wrapped around my fist. Plus, I have the money to spend. I was hoping the gesture would help you see me in a more positive light. Sway you into getting to know me.

Tatum: You could have just said you’re trying to fuck me. It’s less words.

This message from any other Alpha would have had my hackles up, but for some inexplicable reason, his admission doesn’t creep me out, or put me off. It’s very honest, I’ll give him that. It doesn’t make me want to agree to dinner, either, but it does make me want to keep flirting with him.

Declan: But that's not the whole truth. Yes, I want to fuck you. I think anyone that finds women attractive would want to fuck you, Tatum. But I also want you to enjoy this. All of it. Getting to know me, flirting with me, then maybe, fucking me.

Tatum: So this is a game for you? Turn the sweet Omega into a dirty slut?

If I wasn’t texting him, with no intentions of ever seeing him again, I wouldn’t have been so freaking bold with my words. But something about knowing I’ll never see him again makes me want to take risks I never would otherwise.

Almost like I can be someone I’m normally not. Pretend to be this confident, sexual Omega. The opposite of the woman I really am. The one I’ve had to be since my mom started to fall apart.

I change into the silky red lingerie, slipping the heels back on, and stand before the mirror. I look fucking insane. I tug my hair out of its bun and shake it out. It’s wavy in a sexy bed rumpled way, and I pose, before snapping several pictures.

Tatum: *Sent a photo

I’m on my knees, looking at the camera like I’m about to be fucked from behind. The lingerie is stunning, and I look sexy.

Declan: Fuck, you’re teasing me. Jesus, you look unbelievable. If I was there, I’d do some very knotty things to you.

I’m blushing from his compliments, and I chuckle at his use of knotty when my phone pings again.

Declan: And no, not a game. Game implies a winner and a loser. This is just fun. And enjoying sex doesn’t make you a dirty slut. I think that insult is outdated and overused. When I call you my little slut, it will be a compliment, Tatum.

Jeez, he’s so… Fuck, I don’t even know. He’s bold, confident, and clearly goes after what he wants, the second he wants it. Most Alphas can be like that, when they want an Omega.

I can’t take this level of heat, though, so I chicken out of the dirty talk when I reply.

Tatum: I have to get ready for work now. Why did I apply to the twenty-four-hour diner? Who even invented them?

Abruptly changing the subject was super obvious, but I’ve lost my nerve. I think he’s hot as hell, but I’m still the same girl I was this morning. I’m considering downloading a dating app now, though. Just to flirt with strangers.

The attention might be good for my self-esteem.

I pull on a pair of black shorts and the T-shirt that says Mom’s Diner on it, grab my apron, and slip my feet into my black sneakers after I pull my socks on. I grab my purse and head into the living room while I tie my hair back up in a messy bun.

“Hey, Meg.” I wave since she’s just arrived and is already checking on Mom. She likes to keep herself busy with a crochet project and is already pulling one out of her bag.

“Hey, Tatum. Have a good shift!” She gives me a little wave. She always wears scrubs, and today, they’re blue. She’s short with brown hair and brown eyes. She looks so much like her mother.

“Heading to work, Mom. Have a good night with Meg.” I press a kiss to her head, fill up her water, and then leave her a donut for later.

“I’ll make sure she eats it.” Meg nods, watching whatever show is on the TV, as I head out.

It’s not a far walk to the diner, and I left a little early so rather than ride my bike, I walk.

Walking gives me the time to reflect on what I need to do. The diner pays decently, but I need more if I’m going to take care of my mother in the way she needs.

I’ve never seen her like this.

Barely alive. Losing her mate could have easily killed her, but she continued on despite her broken bond.

Hell, if I’m honest she’s been getting progressively worse since I was eight, but she hung on to her clarity for those last ten years to raise me. The medications she was on aided in that, I’m sure. The year before I turned twenty-one, she quit the bank she had been working at, and stopped leaving the apartment altogether.

And even though she was still there, it was like I was suddenly alone in the world. Especially because I had already lost Hayden.

She did her best. I know that, but the sting of knowing how much of my life she’s missing never fades.

Simply surviving isn’t living. Right now, that's all Mom is doing. And just barely. A gentle breeze could take her out at this point.

I have no choice, I have to do something before It’s too late for her. She needs professional help. More help than this diner can afford to pay me.

“Tatum! Hi, darling!” Bernice, the Beta who owns Mom’s Diner, greets me as I walk in.

I smile warmly at the sweet older woman and lean into her as she offers a hug. “Hey, Bernie.”

“How are you, Hun? How’s your mother?”

I’m putting my stuff away in the back room and putting my name tag on, as Bernie follows me around like a fluttering butterfly.

“My mom’s okay. I’m good.” I sigh, not ready to have this conversation, but now is as good of a time as any. “Can we talk?” As I turn to face her, she looks at me with worry scrunching her nose. This sucks. I feel like I’m letting her down, but I know I have to do this. She’ll understand.

“Is everything okay? You look stressed.” As a Beta, she’s not as sensitive to an Omega’s distress, but she’s not immune. I nod my head, offering her as much reassurance as I can, but at this moment, I’m not very sure myself.

“Mom needs some extra help, and I’m not enough anymore–”

“Oh, dear. Is this because of her medications?” Bernie steps into my bubble, placing one hand on my shoulder, and the other clutches at her own throat.

“It’s been a long time coming, honestly. She needs more help than I have to give, even with Meg. So, I need a second job.”

I wince as I speak, and her eyes go wide. I’ve worked here faithfully for years, and if I ever needed any extra cash, I would simply take on extra shifts. But after years of doing this, I know it won’t be enough, even if I worked 24/7. The customers that come through our doors just don’t tip enough.

“Oh, sweet Tatum,” Bernie coos, scooping me against her chest and holding me tight. Perfectly tight. This is a mom hug. The kind of hug that only a mom is capable of. I can feel the waves of comfort she’s desperately trying to send me.

This hug says everything words can’t. That she cares for me on a deeper level than a boss should.

Chef must see Bernie clutching me to her chest like I’m made of tissue paper and one sneeze away from falling apart.

“Tater-bug?” she asks as she rushes over, and the floodgates open at the sound of her nickname for me. Chef, also known as Linda, is Bernie’s wife. They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. I’ve tried to keep them at arms length over the years, but these two Betas are the most stubborn women I have ever known.

They hired me at sixteen, and then took me under their wings. Two mother hens.

I don’t know what made these women so insistent that I let them care for me in a way that clearly crosses employee and employer lines, but fuck, I’m grateful. They helped get me this far.

“Oh, hells, is this about the eggnog? I told you she’d be upset. Don’t worry, Tater-bug, we’ll get a shipment in a week,” Chef says in a soothing tone as she rubs circles across my back, while her wife lets me sob in her arms.

I chuckle, lifting my head so I can meet Chef’s eyes, and she winks. She knows I’m not crying because of delayed eggnog. But she also knows I probably don’t want to go into detail about it.

It takes me a couple of minutes to get my shit together, but when I do, Bernie leads me to the kitchen, since Chef abandoned Mac to finish cooking all the orders. Of course, Mac is a pro, and there wasn’t even a delay.

“I just need to fix my face, and then I’ll be ready to work.”

“If you’re sure. You can take the night off if you need to?” Chef offers.

I smile at Chef, but I shake my head. I still need money. “No, that’s okay. I need to work.”

I still only have twenty bucks. Hopefully some of the customers tonight pay cash.

“Okay, Tater-bug. Take a moment, and clock in when you’re ready.” Bernie nods, patting my cheek.

I don’t know what I’d do without these women in my life.

It’s nearly midnight, and it’s slowed way down, but I’ve got another table. I don’t mind the quiet on late nights. Usually on Saturdays, we get busy again around two in the morning for whatever reason. Chef, Mac, and the shift lead are still here, but Bernie went home.

Once I told them my hours needed to go down to accommodate a second potential job, Bernie said she’d enlist her daughter, Cathay, to take over. Something she’s been trying to do for a while, I assume.

There’s a strong Alpha scent in the air, and I find I don’t mind it. It’s almost familiar in a way, reminding me of an Alpha I would rather not think about.

Bernie actually banned Hayden two years ago. My mood takes a turn for the worse, and I shove down the memory of Hayden, even if the mental image of Chef chasing him with a shotgun lives rent-free in my mind.

I offer my customer service smile as I approach the table. “Welcome to Mom’s, what can I start you with?” I sound grumpier than I intended, but it is what it is now.

I look up, curious about the Alpha who smells so good. Declan! I end up staring at him for a little too long, as my brain processes what it’s seeing. “Coffee and some pancakes. Blueberry are my new favorite.” His grin is devilish, and I freeze. I have a strong blueberry scent. Is that why he said that?

The spike of fear has me snapping at him before I can think better of talking poorly to a customer. “Why are you here?” His knowing smirk is almost endearing, but mostly just infuriating.

“For coffee and blueberry pancakes.”

I scoff and narrow my eyes. “Here? At midnight, on a Saturday? How did you find me?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Find you? Why, that’s a bit self-centered, don’t you think, Tatum? I am just here for some late night pancakes. I was hungry and stumbled upon this little diner by chance.” My glare deepens. He’s full of shit. But… What if he’s not? What if he just randomly picked this diner, right after I complained about working in a diner? “Of course, I stumbled upon three other diners before this one, but they were all missing something.”

“What’s happening right now?” I prop my fist on my hip and try to breathe through my mouth. Why does his scent of vetiver smell so good? The smoky notes are so much stronger than when we met a few hours ago. I sniff and frown. If he notices, he doesn’t comment. Now that's the scent of an Alpha.

“Coffee? And fluffy, delicious mouthfuls of blueberry pancakes. Maybe some vanilla ice cream, if you have it.”

My knees threaten to fucking shake when he adds a little growl to the word blueberry. Being an Omega has its perks but weakness to an Alpha growl is not one of them. His bark could probably have me bent over this booth for him.

Maybe I need to up the dose of my meds. The fact that I am having a breakthrough reaction to this Alpha is alarming.

I huff and storm off to put his order in. I pour his coffee and lift the mug, licking the rim when my eyes catch on silver, and I realize that I never took his bracelet off! I undo the clasp, and shove it in my pocket. Shit, that was fucking close! When I return with his coffee, he nods to the seat across from him.

“Sit with me. There are no other customers.”

I hesitate, looking around as if I might find an excuse to reject him, but I don’t have any more customers right now. Suspicious. Did he scare them all away? No. That would be crazy .

“Are you stalking me?” I ask as I throw myself down into the booth across from him, and he chuckles again, before mixing six sugar packets into his coffee.

“Obviously. Because you’re the only Omega in this city, and I’m starved for attention.” He mixes in a crap ton of creamer next, and then slides the mug to me. “For you.”

“For me? Why?” I stare at the mug like I didn’t just watch him mix the cream and sugar, as if it’s now poisoned or something.

“You look like you need a little pick me up, and I doubt you’d let me finger you under this table, so coffee it is.”

My eyes go wide as my cheeks flush, and an embarrassing trickle of slick seeps into my underwear, but thankfully the suppressants I take will minimize his ability to scent the blueberry and vanilla ice cream. An Omega’s perfume, and arousal, can be more overpowering than an Alpha’s scent.

I manage to keep my jaw shut as I stare at him. The last time I was this close to him, he smelled like rain, but now an almost citrus like smell clings to it. He must use a neutralizing spray of some kind. Curious about his true scent, I lean in, keeping my voice pitched low, even though it’s a ghost town in here tonight. Saturday nights are usually much busier, but maybe there’s some event I missed.

“Do you have to talk like that? Jeez, Declan, I work here.”

“I’m aware. Why are you shy now? Where’s that bold vixen who sent me a picture of my next meal?” He looks me up and down, searching for something, and I take a sip of the coffee just for something to do as he assesses me. “Mmm. You’re normally shy, but texting with a stranger made you bold.” He nods his head like he’s solved some puzzle, and as badly as I wish I could deny it, he’s exactly right.

“Yeah, I am shy. But that hardly matters since you are a stranger, and you’re going to stay that way.”

I climb out of the booth and head back to the pass-through window to grab his pancakes. Keeping my focus on the ground while I walk them back over, I place the plate in front of him and scurry to the bathroom.

This feels a little weird. Why is he here? In this diner, of all places, right now. Stalking me seems a little on the nose. I know that sometimes when an Alpha catches the scent of an Omega that they like, they can become a little obsessed. But my scent is muted because of my meds. At best, he probably is only getting little whiffs of it. Which shouldn’t be enough to make him lose his marbles.

I don’t use scent blocking sprays, so maybe his sniffer is supercharged? His own scent is a lot more overwhelming now. It wasn’t before.

I shake off the thought. Declan doesn’t seem like the type that wants to attract less attention. If anything, I would expect him to wear scent enhancing lotions.

My blown pupils snag my attention as I meet my icy gaze in the mirror. I refuse to let this man get to me. I splash some water on my cheeks, fix my messy bun, and straighten my apron. One Alpha is not going to screw with my head this much. It’s got to be a coincidence.

When I return to the table, the plate is cleared of food, and there’s a stack of money under the edge. Enough to cover the bill and then some. After cashing out his bill, he left me a two hundred dollar tip.

He’s trying to flash his wealth. Lure me in with cash.

Tatum: If you’re trying to buy your way between my legs, two hundred isn’t going to cut it. Think bigger. I have a mother to take care of after all, and recently discovered my taste for expensive shoes.

I walk back into the employee break room and toss my phone back into my locker, choosing to ignore it the rest of my shift. I’m mildly annoyed that he thinks money is what will sway me, rather than his personality. The shoes felt like a flirty gesture, but the cash?

Shit, maybe I’m just insecure about looking desperate for money, and overreacted? Damn Alpha fucking my head in.

I don’t know if I like his behavior or find it sketchy, but it’s entertaining. It’s hard not to enjoy the novel experience of being pursued by this man. The promise he’s making without words. He can show me a world I’ve never seen before.

But what happens when he loses interest? He’ll ditch me, and leave me a broken shell. I've put myself back together once before, and I refuse to have to do it again.