Chapter Thirty-One
Gwyn
I heard Carl’s motorcycle at exactly seven-thirty, and I was at the door before he even knocked. Good thing too, because his hands were full and I wasn’t sure how he’d have managed to knock without putting something down, but I got the door open just as he stepped onto the tiny porch.
“Oh my. How much food did you get?”
I wasn’t sure what he had tucked in one arm, but the bag he carried on the other was bulging with Styrofoam containers leaking the most delicious smells.
He chuckled and winked as he passed me, heading for the kitchen as if he’d been visiting more than the one time I’d allowed him in.
“I’m still a growing boy, I need my energy. Plus, there were a lot of things that sounded good, so I just ordered all of them.”
He shrugged as if it was nothing, the containers squeaking as he set the bag on the counter. There was two thumps from what he’d carried in the other arm, but his body blocked me from seeing what it was.
Pulling plates from the cabinet, I placed them next to where he was spreading out the containers, salivating as the smell of the food grew stronger. I’d had a simple sandwich for lunch since it had just been me, and my stomach informed me that hadn’t been enough. If nothing else, all the extra physical labor of getting the café ready was helping my jeans fit a little looser than they had in years.
“I wasn’t sure what you like, but Mexican seemed safe since you made fajitas the other day. I also don’t know how spicy you prefer your food, so there’s a range of salsas.”
My stomach answered before I could, grumbling loud enough Carl shot me a look as he popped lids open. My cheeks warmed, and I turned to snag him a glass to hide the flush.
“I love Mexican food, but I’m a wimp when it comes to spice.”
He nodded, looking serious as he rearranged the containers into a new order. He finally moved enough for me to see what else he’d brought, and my lips ticked up at the sight of the pickle jar with my name on it.
“These should be perfectly safe, but these are a little spicier, and you’ll probably want to avoid this box,” he said as he pointed out which foods he was referring to. There was still plenty to choose from, and a careful dip of the fresh tortilla chips into the mild salsa said it would be fine for me to use if I was careful with it.
“Mexican and my favorite drink. Are you worried, or trying to butter me up?”
I’d been about to reach for a flauta as I spoke, but I found myself spun and pulled flush against his solid chest, the warmth of him soaking through our clothes and sending a tingle down my spine. I was already close enough to my heat that I was feeling extra sensitive, and spending the day knowing he was going to be in my house again had been torture. I’d caught whiffs of my own slick more than once, the anticipation keeping my body on the edge even when I tried to focus on other things. It had been good that the two alphas he’d sent to help and guard me all day had stayed outside, otherwise it could have been an issue.
“I hope I don’t have any reason to worry, but I’d love to butter you up.”
His voice vibrated through his chest straight into my nipples, making them tighten so much there was a pinch of pain, but it only made me want more. I clenched my thighs to try to hide the way I grew slick, but I could feel his thick length against my belly, so I knew I wasn’t the only one considering what might happen before the night was over.
“You promised to feed me.”
The words were barely more than a whisper, but his eyes darkened as his fingers tightened on my hips. I couldn’t have said which I wanted more right then, the delicious smelling food, or the taste of him on my tongue instead.
“I did, and I will. We should eat before it gets too cold.”
Despite what he was saying, he didn’t release me, dropping his nose to my neck to drag in a noisy inhale. I knew an omega’s scent when they were in heat was like a drug to alphas, Anthony would drag me around to breathe it in from the moment my cycle approached, but having Carl smell me didn’t give the same feeling of being used.
I let my head drop back, giving him better access when I felt the soft brush of his lips against my flesh. The alarm bells that should have been ringing over having him right where many alphas placed their claiming mark were silent, and I almost got lost in the sensations until he straightened with a groan.
“You smell too good. We'd better eat before you become the meal.”
I shivered at the edge of a growl in his voice, my core clenching as more slick wet my folds. My body was completely onboard with his suggestion, except for the tiny grumble of complaint from my stomach.
I barely paid attention to what I put on my plate, more of my focus centered on the aching bud between my legs. It throbbed in time with my heartbeat, demanding attention, and I couldn’t help wiggling once I’d taken my seat at the tiny table in my dining area.
“Drink?”
I’d completely forgotten the two bottles he’d clearly gotten from The Hangout until he lifted the pickle jar and shook it, sloshing the green liquid around. I hadn’t been back to The Hangout for a drink since I’d gone in to apologize to David.
Part of me said I shouldn’t, that it would be better to maintain complete control since Carl was already distracting me, but another part said it might be easier with a buzz to buffer everything. I might have anticipated what having him in my home again would lead to, but that hadn’t stopped me from worrying over what I wanted to ask him as well.
“Sure.”
He’d apparently been paying attention, because he knew exactly which cabinet to open to find the glasses. Not that I had many to choose from since I’d left almost everything behind for Adam, but I at least had two decent tumblers he could use for the drinks. I was a little surprised to see him making one for himself as well since I’d only seen him drink beer at the bar, but I was also a little excited to see what he thought of it.
He brought both drinks to the table before going back for his plate and the cup I’d gotten him that he’d filled with water. I could have been embarrassed about the emptiness of my cabinets and fridge, but I decided that if he’d acted like nothing was wrong, then I could too.
I waited until he’d taken a seat across from me before taking a careful sip. The drink wasn’t too hard to make, and vodka was pretty easy to hide unless you really put too much compared to the mixer, but I’d had enough bad drinks over the years to be cautious. If anything, it was a little weaker than I’d have made it, and once again I had to shake my head over the way he naturally tried to protect me. It had felt controlling when Anthony did the same, but nothing about Carl made me feel as if he was trying to manipulate or restrain me. His care was too obvious.
“Is it not right?”
My eyes jerked up from where they’d dropped to the table while I was lost in thought, and I realized all he’d seen was me shaking my head after tasting it. Quick to paste a smile on and take another drink before setting the glass down, I reassured him.
“No, it’s fine. A little on the weak side, but I can guess why you don’t trust me with something stronger.”
He let out a laugh, but his cheeks flushed pink above his beard, as if he was the one with a reason to be embarrassed. I loved when I could get a reaction like that out of him since it was so odd to see on a man his size, with his strength. The alphas I’d known before wouldn’t even know what embarrassment felt like, but then again, they’d thought too much of themselves to ever admit they could be wrong, much less have a reason to be embarrassed.
“Try the food. This place is supposed to be one of the best in the city.”
I’d never heard of the name on the side of the bag, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him. He looked so hopeful as he watched me lift the flauta to my mouth that even if it had tasted like dog food, I’d have pretended it was great, but luckily I didn’t have to fake my enjoyment. The tortilla had a nice crispness to it when I bit, the chicken inside still warm and juicy. The cheese wasn’t the usual boring blend I bought at the grocery store, having a bit more tang that made me think it was probably something fancy I’d never be able to pronounce.
“Definitely the best I’ve had.”
He watched me a moment longer before taking a bite of his own food. He seemed to have some of everything on the crowded plate, the sauces blending together in a way that made my eye twitch, but I’d been told often enough that I was the weird one with the aversion to letting my food touch.
“It’s good, but I think your fajitas were better.”
Arching a brow, I scoffed before taking another bite. My fajitas might be good enough, but there was no way they compared to authentic food made by a real chef.
We fell into silence as we ate, the quiet comfortable. I was so used to having to tiptoe around alphas that it still felt strange not to be worried when one was present, but I was growing more used to it the longer I was with Carl. Not for the first time I wished he had been the alpha I’d met in my youth. My life would have been so different.
“So, what did you—”
“How was your—”
We both started speaking at the same time, stopping with a laugh when we overlapped. I was starting to feel full, slowing down to pick at what was left on my plate, while Carl had already demolished almost all of his and clearly wanted to get to the point of why I’d asked him over.
“My day was pretty boring besides waiting to come see you. How was your day?”
It was clear he’d redirected his question. I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer what I knew he’d started to ask, so I finished off my drink before answering the second one.
“It was good. The inside and outside are both finally painted, although I’ve decided I want to paint the inside of the bookshelves you built. I still need to find some décor, but I’m going to wait until the tables arrive so I can try to match colors.”
“The guys didn’t bother you?”
I couldn’t help huffing as I stood and reached for his plate, but he pulled it away before I could snag it.
“We both know you threatened them to stay outside all day. They were pretending to still be cleaning the paint sprayer when I decided to leave, even though they’d finished painting at least two hours before.”
His cheeks went pink again, but he didn’t deny anything, simply lifting one shoulder as if it was no big deal to make the guys spend a whole day outside.
“Your safety is important. They were there to do more than paint.”
While I’d already known they were meant to be guards, hearing him admit to it instead of trying to make excuses helped ease the lingering tightness I’d felt over it. Having them there had helped me feel safer than I would have alone, and the fact that he wasn’t trying to hide anything made me trust him more.
“Well, I appreciate the help. They did a good job. But, they wouldn’t let me pay them.”
I gave Carl a glare from the side of my eye as I washed my plate. I caught his grin before he managed to school his features into something more diplomatic as he cleaned up the containers.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I sighed but I wasn’t really upset. I didn’t want the guys not to be reimbursed for their time, but I had a feeling Carl had taken care of it and just didn’t want to tell me. It would be easy enough to pay him extra so he wouldn’t lose anything if he’d paid them himself.
We finished cleaning up the kitchen, Carl insisting on washing his own dishes before he made both of us another drink. The way he sipped it made me think it wasn’t really something he liked, but I wasn’t going to say anything if he wanted to torture himself with it. It was amusing to watch him fight the urge to grimace from the pickle juice.
Once everything was cleaned up and put away, enough leftovers stored in my fridge to feed me for two or three days, I couldn’t put off asking the question any longer. Setting my glass on the counter, I sucked in a deep breath and looked up into the emerald eyes I was so jealous of.