Chapter 17
Seventeen
Otillie-James
T here were candles and flowers and a nervous-looking Sonny to greet me when I arrived home. I edged into the dining room, my eyes flicking everywhere, trying to take it all in at once.
“Sonny?” I asked softly, because I didn’t want to assume this was for me and be wrong.
He licked his lips, a motion I watched with rapt fascination. “Uh, hi. I thought I’d make dinner.”
God, this is so awkward. “Is Truett coming too?” Obviously, they’d spoken. He wouldn’t be doing this if they hadn’t had some kind of Alpha-to-Alpha conversation.
He shook his head. “No. I thought dinner with just us would be nice. Unless you want him here too? Or, uh, Lance? He’s home, up in his room, I think.”
I’d never seen my self-assured stepbrother so jittery. “No, this is fine,” I reassured him softly, placing my bag by the door. “I’m going to assume that Truett spoke to you about what happened.”
“Yeah, I went to his place last night, after he dropped you home. Come and sit down. I’ll pour some wine, and we can talk.” He grabbed a bottle of my favorite wine from the ice bucket. How did he know it was my favorite?
I could smell something baking in the oven, definitely some kind of bread. Cooking was one of Sonny’s many talents, and I’d taken advantage of his kitchen skills over the years. We’d sat down for dinner so many times I’d lost count, but this was the first time it had ever felt awkward.
He stepped toward me, then stilled. “Oh, fuck it.” Grabbing me up in his arms, he kissed me. Hard. A possessive kiss, filled with so much longing that it made my chest ache. I stood there, shocked, but my body knew what it wanted, and she was happy to take over while my brain caught up.
I threw myself into the kiss. The kiss with Sonny... I’d thought about what these lips would feel like so many times over the years, but it didn’t do justice to the way they moved across mine. Dominating but soft, it was like we were dancing. He was leading the kiss, but tempting me to follow.
He tore his mouth away, his pupils blown wide. “I’m sorry. I should have checked with you if that was okay. I’ve wanted to do that for so long, and I?—”
Instead of letting him go on, I grabbed the soft curls of his hair and pulled his lips back to mine. I was kissing Edison Chalmers. One of the two men I’d loved forever. One of the two men I never thought I’d have. And if this was a fever dream, I was going to enjoy every second and pray I never woke up.
He lifted me easily and sat me on the table, slipping between my thighs like he was made to be there, his mouth covering mine like he wanted to memorize the feel, the taste, the sounds of us kissing. I was right there with him. I wrapped one leg around his, holding him tightly to me, letting my hands wander. Being able to touch him how I wanted…
“This is a dream,” he breathed against my lips, leaning me further back as he echoed my earlier thoughts. “Tillie, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
Definitely as long as I have.
I grabbed his lapels, pulling him against me as I leaned back, kissing him with almost desperation. What if this was my only chance?
But I didn’t need to worry, because Sonny followed me. He kissed me and kissed me, and I got lost in his heat. His scent was deep, like the forest and bourbon and the sweet lick of flames.
Actually, that burning scent was new.
“Tillie!” Sonny shouted, wrenching back and smacking at my head. “You’re on fire!”
I screamed, and he threw a glass of white wine on my head, splashing it down my face. He was still patting the back of my head as Lance and Akio raced into the room, Doodles the dog skidding in hot on their heels, losing traction without a second back leg and sliding into the wall. Even Kevin the pig bounded in, grunting loudly. Lance must have been looking after the animals.
I didn’t miss the knife in Lance’s hand, but as he appraised the room, with me covered in wine, and Sonny carefully holding the back of my hair away from my body, he slipped it back into his boot. I hadn’t even known he carried a weapon with him.
“What happened?” he asked calmly. Doodles came over to lick up the wine from the floor, and I nudged him away with my foot. The acrid smell of burned hair had now permeated the room, stinging my nose.
Sonny looked pale. “Her hair brushed against the candle flame and just went up like a fucking roman candle!”
Yeah, well, I had erratic frizz hair, and sometimes, it took a lot of product to keep it looking presentable.
Sonny was looking at my skin. “You have a slight burn on your neck. I think we should take you to get checked out.” Lance reappeared with a cloth soaked in cold water, holding it to my nape.
“I’m okay, I promise.” Actually, it stung like a bitch, but I didn’t want to sit in the emergency room for hours. I paused. “How’s my hair?”
They both winced, which was not a good sign. Sonny cleared his throat. “It’s not too bad. It mostly burnt up the ends.” He blew out the remaining candles. “I think we might get battery-operated ones from now on. Come on, I’ll drive you to Urgent Care.”
Ugh. “Sonny, I’ll just go run it under cold water in the shower. It’s really not?—”
He turned, and I could see the guilt and the residual fear on his face. “Please, Tillie.”
Huffing out an annoyed breath, I stood. “Fine. But when we’re sitting there for hours, remember we could have played naughty nurse and recalcitrant patient in my bedroom, instead of trying to get comfortable on hard plastic chairs.”
I woke to the sound of my phone ringing.
It had been a long night. Truett had appeared at Urgent Care just after we’d arrived, and had chewed Sonny out for so long, it was a wonder he hadn’t needed burn care too.
As I’d suspected, I had a couple of first-degree burns, but honestly, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. I had some burn cream, along with instructions on how to care for it if it blistered. The guys had dropped me back home at two a.m., tucking me into bed. I hadn’t even protested, because I was literally dead on my feet.
Rolling over, I slapped my hand around, searching for my phone. Finding it under my pillow, I lifted it to my cheek. If it was work asking me to come in to cover someone’s shift, I was going to hang up on them.
“Hello?” I mumbled.
“Otillie-James? It’s Strat.”
I blinked awake. “Hey, Strat. How are you?”
“I’m good, thank you.” He hesitated. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I looked at my phone, suddenly realizing it was eleven in the morning. “No, of course not,” I lied. “Sorry, I was just, uh, watching the finance channel.” Oh my god, I’m such an idiot. “What can I do for you?”
His low chuckle told me he knew I was full of shit. “The police have arranged a lineup for this afternoon and would like for you to attend, if you’re free.”
I stood, like being vertical meant that I was a constructive member of society. “Sure. What time?”
“Around three?”
I looked over at the mirror. Half my hair was gone, just charred ends standing up like frizzy little pubes. “Sure, three sounds good. Unrelated, but you don’t happen to know anywhere I could get an emergency hair appointment?”
Luckily for me, Strat Wilmington was well connected. He’d managed to get me an appointment with one of the best salons in the city, and had promised to collect me from there personally to drive me to the station for the lineup.
My hairdresser was a sweet little Beta with a heart-shaped face and a button nose, who giggled when I recounted what happened. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a kiss that hot,” she chuckled as she chopped inches and inches off my hair. “No one’s ever set me on fire like that.”
I mock-glared at her. “Ashley, I swear I will not tip you if you keep making fire jokes.”
She just smirked. “It might actually be worth it.”
Apparently, the damage to my hair was worse in some parts than others, and it had caught in the center of my hair and not on the ends, so by the time Sonny had put it out, a lot had burned off.
Fuck my life.
Ashley had told me to trust her, then put me in front of a station with no mirror. That was probably for the best. Otherwise, I might have cried.
“At least you have the bone structure for a shaggy bob. It could be worse. You could have dead straight hair, and I’d have to give you a buzz cut,” she cajoled, and as long lengths of my hair fell around me, I tried to see it as a silver lining. I’d been meaning to make a change for a while.
But what if the guys don’t like me with shorter hair?
I wanted to punch myself in the ovaries. Who cared what they liked? If they only wanted me for my hair, then this accident was definitely a blessing in disguise.
“Okay, I’m almost done. Let me just blow dry this.” I closed my eyes as she dried and styled, and I mentally prepared myself for something hideous.
The door to the salon opened, and Ashley sighed wistfully. When Strat Wilmington appeared beside my chair, I looked up at him and burst into tears. How fucking embarrassing. Over hair, of all things.
This PMS was getting wild, because I’d never been one of those people attached to their hair, or so I’d thought. This was harder than I could have ever guessed. I was out of control of my emotions.
Strat leaned down and nuzzled my face. “Oh sweetheart, you look beautiful. Don’t be sad.” He kissed my cheek, and I wasn’t quite sure when we’d reached that stage of our friendship, but I let him. It made me feel better.
“Do you promise?”
He stood back up and nodded. “You’d look beautiful with no hair, but”—he looked at Ashley’s name badge—“Ashley here has done a spectacular job. You look gorgeous.”
As if to punctuate his words, Ashley whipped away the covering on the mirror, and I let out a relieved puff of air. It was a wavy little bob that sat around my chin, and it looked cute. Not nearly as bad as I’d thought. It wasn’t my normal long blonde locks, but it wasn’t bad.
I gave Strat a watery smile. “It looks good.” I met Ashley’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I swear I’m not normally like this. The last few days have just been a lot.”
She waved a hand at me. “I know what you looked like when you came in. I get it. I’ll get all this stuff off you, then I’ll meet you up front.” Removing my cape, she disappeared out the back.
Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. “Sorry for crying all over you,” I murmured to Strat as he helped me out of the chair. He hugged me close, and I leaned into him.
Why did that feel so nice? I barely knew Strat. I knew I liked him. I thought he was hot, obviously. But normally, this level of casual affection would make me feel uneasy.
Maybe it was his Omega vibes.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s go. I’ll grab you a deli sandwich from my favorite little place on the way to the station.”