Chapter 4
Chapter Four
OLIVIA
There’s something distinctly humiliating about being shamed by a pack I barely know.
The jerks talk about me, not seeming to care that I’m still very much at the table, insulting me without regard for my feelings.
Exactly like my mother treats me. My face is so hot, I’m sure my skin is a worrying shade of scarlet.
Nails digging into my palms, I press my lips together, trying to figure out the best way to leave the date without causing a scene.
I’m not good at confrontation. It makes my skin tight and itchy. But I’ve finally learned to stand up for myself when it matters, and I refuse to give up working. Not even for a pack. Some omegas want to stay at home, and that’s great for them, but that’s not who I am.
The pack continues to criticize me, making me feel as small as an ant, and I look for the nearest escape. I don’t expect to be rescued by a six-foot-three alpha I’d recognize anywhere.
“Liv, baby, there you are.” Sawyer’s voice is a little deeper than the last time I saw him, but his sky-blue eyes are as bright as I remember, and he’s the only man I know who can make a classic taper fade look more sexy than preppy.
There’s a shadow of a beard, dark brown hairs lining his jaw, that wasn’t there the last time I saw him.
He’s certainly a far cry from the boy I followed around as a kid while his mom was our nanny.
He’s the last person I expected to see, but right now, I’ll take any reason to excuse myself.
“Sawyer! What are you doing here?” I push my chair back and close the distance between us, flinging myself into his arms. He catches me with ease, his warm chuckle brushing over my cheek. “Save me,” I beg as I squeeze him tight.
“Why do you think I came over?” he whispers into my ear before rubbing his cheek against mine, marking me with a scent I can’t read. It’s a harmless thing if I wasn’t on a date, but in front of a pack courting me, it’s practically a declaration of war.
“Who the fuck is this?” Brent—or whatever his name is—demands.
“Her new date. Weren’t you leaving?” Sawyer asks, voice uncharacteristically sharp.
I glance over my shoulder, watching the pack debate whether I’m worth fighting over.
There’s nothing quite like watching them take my measure and ultimately decide I’m not worth it.
They roll their eyes, mutter something about me being a knot killer and leave the table and, in the process, me with the bill. Ouch.
When it comes to being an omega, I’m as inexperienced as it gets.
School was always more important, and with medicine to help make heats bearable, I never thought too much about learning how to please a pack.
What’s his name was right. I probably would give terrible head.
I don’t know the first thing about giving a blow job.
I’ve never had sex . . . never been knotted.
My eyes flutter closed. Maybe I am a knot killer. What twenty-seven-year-old omega doesn’t know how to do that? What pack my age would be okay with that level of inexperience? Mom always says the best omegas are the ones who keep themselves in shape and know what to do in the nest.
The way things have been going for me, I’ll probably die a virgin.
The thought puts a frown on my face.
“Liv?” Sawyer’s voice is a gentle probe.
Oh, gosh. How did I forget I was still clinging to him? Turning back to face him, I bite my lip and let him go. He shoves his hands into his pockets, eyeing the pack as they slip out into the night before taking me in again, this time with less tension.
“Are you okay?”
“Not really. My ego hurts and I’m hungry.”
His gaze catches on something behind me, and he smiles. “Well, I can fix one of those things right now.”
“Oh, no, are they coming back?”
Turning, I take in the food runner with a tray full of food with steam drifting off each plate. It all looks so good. To think Brad tried to order me a salad.
“You can put it all on the table,” Sawyer says.
Glancing at him, I take my seat and clasp my hands in my lap, holding them tight as I try to get over the embarrassment of having not one, but six men ditch me on a date.
It’s kind of pathetic. To make matters worse, the server stops by.
His eyebrows raise at the lack of patrons, and he glances at Sawyer in confusion.
“A party of two now?” the guy asks me.
“It seems like they had an emergency, and I couldn’t leave the pretty lady to eat alone,” Sawyer says, saving me from having to explain.
The server gives me a pointed look that says he isn’t buying the lie, but his tip is on the line, so a second later, he’s wearing the biggest smile. “That’s so sweet. You two look better together, anyway. Should I bring some red wine?”
“A vat, please,” I murmur.
“What was that?” he asks.
My cheeks heat. “Uh, yeah. A glass would be nice.”
“Thank you,” Sawyer tells the server, eyes moving back to me as the employee leaves us with the food. “So, who gets what?”
I never would have been nervous about my food before with Sawyer, but part of me is worried he’ll criticize my meal too. What type of alpha has he become?
“Um, the burger and fries are mine,” I confess with a grimace.
He nods and hands me both the plates, then glances at the rest of the food. “There’s steak, fish, and . . . chicken strips.” His lips twitch. “Which one ordered from the kids’ menu?”
“I don’t even remember half of their names.” Conversation with Sawyer is notably easy in comparison to Pack Johnson. Probably because I’ve known him for so long.
Chuckling, he sets that one aside. “Can I have the steak, or do you want that?”
Sawyer is offering more food. He’s not judging me.
I let out a breath of relief and shake my head. “No, I’m happy with what I ordered. Thank you, though.”
“I love an omega who takes what she wants,” he says with a grin in my direction.
Never have I ever had a dirty mind, but there’s something a little naughty about his smile that has me wondering if he’s thinking about more than food. I shake my head. He’s Henry’s best friend. He’s just being nice.
By all logic, my childhood crush should be well and dead by now, but as Sawyer cuts his steak, forearm muscles flexing, the flutter in my chest tells me it’s very much alive.
“Were you on a date?” I ask, taking a bite of my burger while he talks, fighting a sigh of delight. The food in London was okay, but this is on another level. The ratio of espresso and other seasonings is perfect.
“Uh, yeah. I was with a friend. Not a girlfriend,” he says too quickly.
I pause, a Parmesan-crusted fry halfway to my mouth. “Oh?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I said that,” he confesses. “Everyone assumes, and well, you know . . .” He trails off as the server drops off our wine.
Actually, I don’t know. Sawyer was always a flirt. He’s definitely experienced. Probably understands more about being an omega than I do. The French fry eventually makes it to my mouth, perfectly crunchy and cheesy.
“What I mean,” he says when the silence stretches for too long, “is that I’m not ready to settle down yet.”
Since I definitely don’t want him prying into the disaster that is my love life, I change the topic. “What have you been up to? Where are you working?”
He hesitates for a second. “I, uh, I’m working at Russell Elementary.”
“Really?”
He nods. “You’re looking at Mr. Flynn. The best fourth grade teacher Russell Elementary has ever seen.”
“Do you have a picture with your class?” I take another bite of the yummy burger, covering my mouth with my hands because I may have overestimated how big of a bite I could handle, but Sawyer doesn’t even notice or care.
He whips out his phone as fast as a quick draw. “Promise not to laugh.”
“Okay?”
Grabbing his plate, he moves to the seat beside me, setting his dish down and sitting.
His profile has always been striking, but the years have done him good.
He’s gone from boy to full-fledged alpha.
Everything about him is a little stronger, a little more masculine.
His proximity doesn’t set my teeth on edge.
It doesn’t make me uneasy.
Unlike with the Pack Johnson alphas, his presence is soothing. I’m not worried he’s going to bark me into submission or force-feed me iceberg lettuce.
“This was our annual fun run. If they raised enough money, then they would get to throw pies at me.” He leans in, and I remember I’m supposed to be looking at the phone and not studying him like a specimen in the lab.
The picture on the device has a bunch of kids surrounding him, big, bright smiles as they laugh at Sawyer covered in whipped cream. Tin pie pans litter the ground around him.
A grin tugs at my lips and I glance at him. “That’s so cute. Who knew you had it in you?”
“You think I’m cute?” he asks, turning his head and putting us almost nose to nose.
“I was talking about the picture,” I murmur.
“I’m in the picture, Liv.”
The way my name rolls off his tongue does something funny to my insides. His lips caress each letter, stroke along the V and leave me wondering if it would be weird to ask him to say it again.
“Oh.” I bite my lip. I can’t tell him he’s not cute.
We both know that would be a lie. Without my denial, all that’s left is the truth I’m too afraid to admit aloud.
Sawyer is more than cute. He’s possibly the most attractive man I’ve ever known.
The air between us thickens. The hairs on my arms rise and his eyes drop to my lips for a millisecond before he averts his gaze.
Interesting.
He clears his throat. “I love my job. It’s not as amazing as what you do, though.”
My nose wrinkles. “Says who? Kids are the future. It takes a special person to dedicate their life to shaping little lives.”
“The pay isn’t good.”