Chapter 6
Cormac
I’m clock watching by the time we’ve showered and Laz is putting in all the bells and whistles on Zira’s new phone, his usually calm demeanor back in place as soon as we explained the encounter we had with Zira after they smelt her on us the moment we stepped through the door. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so severe and worried, but it’s no surprise the omega we finally met would have that kind of effect on the man. We’ve all been obsessed with the girl without ever seeing her, knowing her name, or ever meeting her. Her scent has always been enough to trap our thoughts and obsession. Now that we’ve met her, it almost seems worse.
I can definitely see why Barnes held off from introducing us all, because I’m practically chewing my nails away while I impatiently wait for Zira to call my brother for a ride home.
Ford, sleeping soundly on the couch beside me, rolls until he’s snuggled into my side and I relax a little. I throw my arm around him, almost head locking him in place, while I continue to watch the hands on the clock tick by with a slowness that’s bound to drive me crazy.
“Watching the clock won’t make time go by faster, love,” Laz informs, dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and a loose gray shirt. His glasses sit low on his nose as he focuses on the phone, and I chew on my lip as I watch him instead of the ticking hands that aren’t moving fast enough. “Watching me won’t speed things up, either. Why don’t you try to sleep? You’ve had a long flight, you’re likely jetlagged, and you’re burning a hole in my forehead.”
He looks up suddenly, his gem-like green eyes finding my gaze instantly, and I huff a laugh at how aware of his surroundings he is.
“I can’t sleep. I tried,” I admit, shrugging a shoulder, and he nods before peering back down at the phone. “What are you doing on there, anyway?”
Laz continues to press the screen of the newest model of Zira’s phone, and explains, “I’ve added our numbers to her contacts, as well as her mother’s after Barnes texted it to me. I’ve also downloaded a tracking app and I’m sharing the location with you all. In turn, Zira will be able to track us, too. It should clear up any scenarios like this morning.”
I flash him a small smile, loving the way Zira had him so out of control that he was damn near shouting when we came home, demanding to know where she was. The man, as patient and laid back as he is, has a fierce streak a mile wide for those he cares for. Seems he cares a whole lot for the beautiful omega we happened to run into today by chance.
“I’m also adding a couple of apps I think she might like,” he finishes, his body language relaxed and languid, his ankle propped on the knee of his opposite leg while he holds his chin in his hand as his elbow leans on the arm rest of his chair.
“Very thoughtful,” I mutter, grunting when Ford accidentally elbows me in the ribs as he sleeps.
Rubbing his back to soothe him, noting the bastard is wearing my hoodie, I drop my head back and stare up at the ceiling as Laz says, “Just thought it might symbolize an olive branch and stop the scathing looks she sends me when I try talking to her.”
Ah, yeah, that.
Smiling at the ceiling as though I have a secret, which I do, I nod and hum under my breath. I don’t bother explaining to him what Zira told us in the car, because that isn’t our business. It also seems like poetic justice, withholding the fact that Zira has plans to apologize to them, since he and Lazarus hid Zira and their spendings from Ford and me until they couldn’t anymore. That was a fun conversation, though I can’t say I was all too mad. After all, they were trying to help the omega, while also trying to respect Barnes’s wishes not to overwhelm her too much. Something about being skittish around men, though I find that hard to believe based on a single car ride. Zira looked more than comfortable enough to be seated in a car with two alpha males without so much as a sour note of stress in her sweet scent.
Keeping that tidbit to myself, I sigh and shut my eyes, hoping to catch at least a small amount of sleep. Enough to ease the jetlag currently plaguing me, at least, the trip from Tokyo back home having caused havoc on my body.
I’m only just relaxing when Ford’s cell rings, and the bastard springs up from a dead sleep like Dracula popping out of his coffin after a century spent asleep. I take an elbow to the ribs, grunting at the point of contact with a puff of pain, and snicker as Ford scrambles off the couch and to his cell phone he’s kept charging since we got home.
He’s completely awake and alert when he answers the caller, “Hello?”
A grin bursts over his face in an instant, his shoulders dropping as his eyes come to mine with a confirming nod that tells me it’s Zira on the other end.
“Not at all, you’re not disturbing us in the slightest,” he says, pausing a moment before he chuckles. “Are you this sassy with everyone, or just your mom?”
“Everyone,” Lazarus answers, lips twitching as he finally locks the phone and hands it over to me. “All set.”
“Amazing,” I breathe, clicking the unlock button and smiling when I find a selfie of him as her wallpaper. “Oh, that’s going to go down well.”
“That’s the idea,” Laz winks before standing and heading to the kitchen. I hear the click of the kettle a moment later and roll my eyes fondly at his ever need for tea. It could be a sweltering day and the man would still opt for a piping-hot Earl Grey instead of something cold and refreshing.
“Yeah, we can do that. I’ll only take us ten minutes to get there, so we’ll leave now,” I overhear my brother say, and I turn to watch him nod to himself, enraptured by whatever it is Zira is saying. His grin widens and he flashes me an amused look before he says, “I’m sure my car is more comfortable than the bus, pretty girl. Don’t sweat it. We’ll be there in ten. Yeah, okay. See you.”
Then he hangs up, points his cell at me, and demands, “Roll out, Autobot.”
Rolling my eyes but making the stupid sound all Transformers make when they turn from sentient robots to funky vehicles, I stand and head over to the shoe rack, smiling down at my sneakers as Ford laughs at my goofy antics that match his.
He does the same, donning sneakers before reaching for his car keys, calling over his shoulder, “We’re heading out. Laters.”
“Woah, hold your damned horses. Where are you guys going?” Alek asks, suddenly appearing like a fucking ghoul behind me and scaring at least five years off my life.
“Would you quit doing that?” I breathe, clapping a hand to my black-shirt-covered chest while glaring at the douche over my shoulder before reaching for the flowers I bought for Zira but forgot to give her before she left the car.
“I’ll stop when it becomes less funny. It’s not my fault you’re oblivious to your surroundings,” he snickers, crossing his meaty arms over his chest as his gaze flickers between Ford and me. “So, what adventures are you two heading on now?”
Ford flashes a grin, and I chew my inner cheek to keep mine under wraps as my brother declares, “There’s a sweet omega awaiting her chariot, and Mac and I are the chauffeurs.”
All amusement falls away from Alek, and his eyes widen comically. “You’re seeing Zira? Can I come?”
I snort. “What are you, ten?”
He ignores me, which is valid, and focuses on the man with the keys to the car we’ll be driving in. When Ford smiles and shakes his head, I’m convinced Alek is going to pout, until Ford says, “Hell no. You had your time with her when she braided your damned hair.”
Alek rolls his eyes, but he wanders off, apparently taking his answer as final. “Whatever. You’re just jealous I had her hands on me before you did.”
Then he disappears right out of the house, likely heading to the gym to burn off some energy, leaving my brother and me staring after him with flickers of envy burning our chests. This is madness. We barely know the woman, and we’re already acting out of sorts.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, a tea cupped between his hands, Laz salutes us with the mug as he says, “Onwards, noble steeds. Our princess awaits.”
Flashing us a rare smile, he meanders back to his armchair and picks up a book he’s halfway through, apparently making the most of his weekend off. As soon as the book opens, he’s lost to the world inside that book, everything around him forgotten for the time he’ll spend with his nose stuck between the pages.
Ford shucks me in the shoulder, and I nod, silently agreeing to leave. Without uttering another word, waving at Barnes as he walks down the stairs with a curious frown, we leave the house and practically dive into Ford’s car.
With Zira’s new phone tucked in my pocket and her flowers resting on my lap, a funny sense of excitement bubbles in my chest at the prospect of seeing her again. A niggle of worry worms through that, and I hope things don’t get weird once she sees the phone and realizes it’s the newest model on the market right now. I simply couldn’t bring myself to buy anything older. She deserves better than that, even if she refuses to accept it just yet.
“Thinking hard over there,” Ford notes, posing it as a statement instead of a question.
I nod. “Just hoping she doesn’t ice us out for buying her the newest model of phones.”
My brother cringes, but nods. “Tell you what, how about we warm her up to the idea? Maybe invite her to dinner and then give her the phone?”
I purse my lips before nodding slowly. “I’m good with that. Butter her up with carbs before revealing that we didn’t listen and went all out with her new phone instead.”
“Now you’re catching on,” my brother snickers, and I smile over at him before we both fall into silence.
Zira is already waiting at the end of the facility’s gates driveaway, and a stunning smile breaks out over her face when she spies us rolling up to the curb. Climbing out of the car with her flowers in hand, I smile bashfully back, suddenly nervous all over again as I hold the back door open for her. “Hi.”
“Hi. Thank you for coming to get me. I told Ford I could have caught the bus, but I was refused,” she sweetly confesses, biting her lip before sliding into the back seat.
“Who needs a bus when you have a driver on call,” I tease, fighting a blush when she laughs. Once she’s seated, I offer her the flowers and say, “These are for you. I meant to give them to you earlier, an apology for your phone. They reminded me of your hair.”
“Oh,” she breathes, eyeing the vibrant-orange tiger lilies with shock. It’s almost like she’s never received flowers before, which I find very hard to believe. A woman who looks and smells like Zira would surely be used to the occasional bouquet.
As soon as I’m sitting in the car, the door shutting soundly after me, Zira confesses, “Thank you. I’ve never received flowers before.”
Well, shit. Color me every shade of wrong.
“That’s criminal, pretty girl,” Ford complains, shaking his head before flashing her a grin. “A woman like you deserves all the flowers.”
I’m sure she’s blushing profusely, and I grin as I peer out of the window as Ford pulls away from the sidewalk and merges with the late afternoon traffic. We drive in silence for a little while until Zira’s lyrical voice fills the car. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your afternoon by asking you for a ride.”
“Not at all,” Ford assures once more, and I catch her nod as she hugs her new flowers to her chest like they’re her most prized possession. Zira Favero is an enigma, for sure. Where most people would consider a brand new cell phone something to cherish, Zira seems to prefer the more thoughtful gifts. It’s a nice change, having gone through life avoiding gold diggers and those who were only after what they could get out of us.
After all, you don't build several very successful businesses across the world without side effects. Ford and I are no strangers to thwarting off women and men who only want to know us, befriend us, or be with us for the money. We have no interest in those people.
Zira, though? She seems like she abhors the very idea of lavish spending and fancy rich people things. I love it.
When the car falls silent once more, I decide to fill it instantly, wanting to hear more of her voice. “Have you eaten, Zira?”
“Uh, no. I just spent time with Mom while she did her physio and berated me for my treatment of Barnes and Lazarus,” she answers, nodding to herself as she narrows her eyes and fights a wince.
Laughing, Ford asks, “Well, that just won’t do. What do you say to dinner?”
Zira grows silent for a long moment, likely thinking it over, before she asks, “That depends.”
“On…?” I ask, lips twitching.
“Where you’re thinking of eating,” she answers, just as I hear the crinkle of paper and a subtle inhale, which is followed by a sweet whisper. “I love lilies.”
Ford and I share a smile, before I declare, “Women’s choice. What takes your fancy?”
Turning to look over my shoulder, I catch Zira grinning into her bouquet, and she lifts her head to say, “I could go for pasta, honestly.”
My belly grumbles, and Ford laughs. “Oh, pretty girl. Those are magic words for Mac and me. We know just the place.”
It takes very little time to arrive at Dolce Vita, the best Italian restaurant in a ten-mile radius. Once parked, I get Zira’s door for her and she sends me a shy smile with a soft, “Thank you.”
I match her smile, feeling my cheeks heat the same time hers does, and I chuckle lowly before gesturing to the entrance. “Come on. Charlie is a friend of ours, and he makes the meanest chorizo & mozzarella gnocchi bake.”
“Oh, yeah. That stuff is to die for,” Ford agrees, holding his arm out for Zira.
She barely hesitates before linking her arm with his, eyeing the outside of the quaint building and down at her dress. I don’t know what compels me to do it, the look of discomfort and self-consciousness fluttering over her face setting me into motion, but I press my hand to Zira’s lower back and swear to her, “You’re the most well-dressed person here, trust me.”
Then I gesture to myself, pointing out the tight black sweats I’m wearing, an even tighter black shirt covering my upper half, and my grubby Nike sneakers covering my feet. Then I gesture to Ford, who is still wearing my hoodie, his gray sweats, and matching shoes.
“It’s a low-key kind of place, pretty girl. You’re gonna love it,” my brother promises, winking again and watching closely as she blushes oh so prettily just as her face breaks out in a smile that makes me feel like I’ve won the life lottery.
So, with my brother and me escorting her on either side, we lead Zira into the coziest restaurant in town and wait to be seated. It doesn’t take long before Charlie spots us, his whole body shaking with a laugh as soon as he catches mine and Ford’s eyes.
“If it isn’t my favorite customers,” he bellows across the room still occupied by several patrons, his Boston accent as thick as the pizza crust he serves at his restaurant.
Grinning, Ford shakes his head and calls back, “I bet you say that to all the customers.”
“You know it, boyo,” the man teases, grinning wide enough that his cheeks grow impossibly rounder, giving him the appearance of Orville the Duck. When he comes over, he offers Ford and me a tight hug before pulling back and dropping his gaze to the beauty between us. “And look at that, you brought a friend. Welcome, honey.”
“Thanks,” Zira replies, grinning widely at the man as though she instinctively knows the man is safe. And he is. He’s a big teddy bear, moreso to sweet women, because they remind him of his omega wife he owns the restaurant with.
Think of the devil and she shall appear. Amara exits the kitchen a moment later, donning her chef’s hat that covers her thick, dark hair and an apron that dwarfs her four-foot-ten frame. Her cheeks are flushed with heat but a friendly smile tugs at her lips the moment she spies the three of us.
Italian accent thicker than Charlie’s, Amara holds her arms out in greeting and says, “ Ragazzi miei , you’re back again.”
“Hey, Mara. How’re you doing?” Ford asks, accepting her hug before pulling back and allowing me to take one from the sweet, little lady.
“Bene, bene. How are you? How was the trip to Tokyo? It was Tokyo, wasn’t it?” she answers, patting my cheek when she pulls away, taking with her the scent of dough and a sweet vanilla that is biologically hers.
“It was good. We have a new store opening there in the next coming months,” I explain, enjoying the way her face lights up with pride.
“ Sorprendente! How exciting,” she gushes, stepping up to her bonded packmate’s side and smacks him with the back of her hand against his dad bod figure. “I’m still waiting for this one to allow me to open another restaurant. My day will come.”
With a sassy shake of her head, Amara mutters a curse word in Italian that has Charlie laughing before she walks off, shouting, “Seat our boys and the little beauty attached to their arm, amore mio . I already know what to make.”
And then she’s gone, leaving Charlie no choice but to do as he’s told.
“You heard the woman. Let’s get you seated,” he chuckles, grabbing a drink menu and bypassing the food menu. We order here enough that Charlie and Amara know what we like. I’m not even concerned that they didn’t ask Zira, because I don’t doubt she’ll love whatever Amara makes for her. She’s the best damned cook in the area, as far as I’m concerned. Well, the best after Barnes.
Leading us through the restaurant, smiling and waving at customers, Charlie leads us straight to our favorite booth tucked away in the back, the low lighting offering a cozy atmosphere while relaxing music plays gently from nearby speakers.
I can’t help but watch Zira as she takes it all in, her smile growing positively beaming by the time we’re seated in the rounded booth, the omega tucked between my brother and me.
With a wave and a promise that food won’t be long, Charlie takes our drink orders and leaves with a dramatic bow that makes Zira laugh, and I find myself enjoying this relaxed version of her.
“You seem lighter after your visit with your mom,” I mention, smiling at her when she hums sweetly.
“Yeah. She always has a way of talking sense into me while also making sure that she doesn’t think I’m a dumbass for my choices, even though I’m convinced she lowkey does. It would be hypocritical for her to mention it, though, so she sweetly disguises it with her wisdom. But I do feel much better after talking with her for a while,” she confirms, still eyeing the restaurant with approval.
I share a pleased look with my brother before settling into my seat, relaxing for the first time since leaving the house.
“Wisdom, huh?” Ford teases, and I love the way Zira’s eyes glitter with amusement in response.
“Oh, sure. Very sage wisdom. She’s like the Yoda of my life,” she laughs, and I store that sound in a vault in my mind for safekeeping.
Lips twitching, I ask, “What kind of advice did she part with?”
That’s when her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Oh, no. That’s not appropriate dinner talk. Safe to say she spoke some sense into me, made me blush several shades of red, and forced me to promise to make things right. That’s all you’re getting out of me.”
She sends us both a challenging look that I absolutely adore, and I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m good with you keeping your secrets with your mom so long as it keeps you this happy.”
“Mhm,” Ford hums. “I have to agree. Happy looks good on you, pretty girl. Even that blush emphasizes your beauty.”
Sure enough, the woman blushes on cue right before she perfumes, and I have to bite my lip to stop any kind of sound escaping me that will give away how deeply obsessed I am already with her and her scent.
“Well, I can promise it’ll stay that way as soon as I get some carbs in my system,” she quips, flashing us both a grin that I also etch into my memory.
“Duly noted,” I reply, my grin growing to match hers, sure I’m blushing just as deeply as she is. It doesn’t matter, though, because for the first time in a very long time, Ford and I are enjoying the company of a woman who wants nothing from us and it’s looking to be the best day we’ve had in too long.
So, with the company of a beautiful omega who’s made me smile more in a day than I have in the past several months, I settle in to enjoy her company for however long she will allow it. Then I’ll drop the phone bomb on her and hope I don’t ruin the evening entirely.