22. Jeremy
Chapter twenty-two
Jeremy
Willow falls deep into her fever over the next two days, growing more demanding and uninhibited. Although it’s exhausting work, the time I’ve spent with her has been the best of my life. Right now, the gorgeous omega sleeps curled up, her back to the nest wall, one hand pillowing her cheek.
I brush hair off her face, knowing it won’t disturb her in the slightest. She should get a good three or four hours of rest now, after our last intense round of orgasms and knotting. Her soft breaths soothe me, filling a place in my heart I didn’t know was empty.
The circumstances that brought me to her home feel like divine providence.
I drape her favorite sequin blanket over her hips and rise, stretching out my aching muscles.
A few laps around the room while logging our progress in the Heat Wave app gets the kinks out.
As well as recording my work hours and receiving encouraging messages from HQ, the app tracks how long it’s been since I last checked in and the estimated length of my omega’s heat based on the temperature recordings.
According to this, we only have two more days. I wish we could extend it, because the thought of leaving her makes my heart throb painfully.
I was only supposed to help her through this heat, but I got attached.
After I’ve finished updating our progress on the app, I take a shower in the attached ritzy bathroom.
The marble finishes and gold fittings make it feel like I’m in a penthouse suite, or palace.
An old memory surfaces, of visiting Joel in his new house and how proud Tracey was about their house.
It was nice, sure, but this place makes it look like a dump.
Not that I’m comparing . . . just mind blown.
It’s not just fixtures. The shower has four heads, two of which are at chest height, plus two detachable hoses, and the stall’s big enough to wash a horse in. The vanity has a his and hers sink, and don’t even get me started on the swimming pool of a bathtub.
After scrubbing off my sweat and cum with coconut scented shower gel, I pad out to the rest of the house.
I miss being smothered in Willow’s full-blown scent right away.
Mr Shares, who’s been locked out of the nest and isn’t happy about it, greets me by rearing up on his hind legs and walking backward.
“Hey, Sharesy! How are you doing without us?” I grab his paws and play, wrestling him down to the ground and digging my fingers through his long coat.
He spins in quick circles, nails clicking on the tile floor as he huffs and growls playfully.
“Ready to go outside?” I ask, sliding him away from me just so he can bound back into the same spot.
He props to a halt on stiff front legs and turns to look at the door.
I snort. “Yes, I said outside. You heard that right.”
Mr Shares bounds for the back door.
“No,” I say, heading for the front. “Mumma said the front only. Apparently, you’re a mischief maker who escapes from the back yard.” I open the front door, and the dog bolts through to go sniff the yard.
I make myself a coffee and then sit on the front steps to drink it while keeping one eye on the dog as he marks his way along the front fence.
Really, I should get some rest while I can, but the exhilaration burning in my veins keeps me alert.
I’ll snatch some hours later, maybe even before the omega wakes again.
Mr Shares lets out a series of sharp barks, jolting me free of my reverie. I leave the mug on the step and walk down the drive to see what’s got him worked up. An olive-skinned alpha leans through the iron fencing to pet the dog, Mr Shares jumping up on the fence to get closer.
My pulse ticks in my throat for a hot second until I register just how hard the dog’s tail wags. This isn’t mere friendliness for a passer-by.
The alpha senses me coming and straightens. He touches his canvas hat. “Hello,” he offers, voice faintly lilting with something European.
“Howdy.” I nod and jam my hands in my pockets. A work truck and covered box trailer sit on the verge, the logo on the side reading Restorative Lawns and Gardens.
Oh, is he here to take care of the yard?
Mr Shares buts his head up against the fencing and the man smiles and rubs his ears.
“Hope I’m not disturbing. Willow asked me to do a job for her, but I haven’t heard back.” He glances up from under dark lashes, gaze calculating. “I was passing by and thought I’d check in to see if she still wants the job done.”
Explains why Mr Shares knows him, but I very much doubt he just happened to be passing by. Or maybe that’s just my alpha self riding high on pheromones.
“Couldn’t tell ya, sorry. I’ll let her know you dropped by.” I lift my chin toward the truck.
“Oh, I’m Alessandro.” He sticks his palm through the fence.
Would be rude to ignore the gesture, and he doesn’t strike me as a seedy fellow. Plus, the dog likes him. I shake his hand, feeling the callouses on his palm and strength in his forearms.
“Jeremy.”
“Nice to meet you.” He glances at the house. The curiosity is clearly gnawing away at his mind, but he remains polite.
Maybe I should do some digging myself. “Has Willow got your number?”
“Yes, and my business card.”
“Great.”
Purely professional, then. Although, I’d stake my life there’s more to that interest in his eyes. Before I shook his hand, that suspicion irked me, but Alessandro strikes me as a genuine guy, working hard to make his way in this world. I know what that feels like.
Plus, who wouldn’t fall in love with the gorgeous omega at first sight?
I relax and thread my arms through the gate. Twitching my thumb toward the vehicles, I ask, “This your business?”
Alessandro nods. “Sì, lawns and gardens. I work a lot of the properties in this district.”
Italian, I believe. He has a pleasant voice and the accent makes listening to him fun.
“Nice. My dad was a landscaper. More commercial property than anything, and a shit ton of irrigation.” I chuckle at an old memory. “When he retired, he said he never wanted to see another sprinkler valve in his life.”
Alessandro grins, transforming his shaded face from workman to supermodel. He could cut steak on those cheekbones. “Oh, sì! I understand. Lay enough of that piping and it’ll turn your fingers black.” He holds his hands up and wriggles his digits. “But at least out here it’s a way to keep cool.”
I laugh and pluck at my polo, which is already darkening with sweat around the collar. “Maybe I should go into that trade then.”
He shrugs. “If it’s something you enjoy, definitely. What do you do with your time now?”
The way he phrases that question warms me. Non-threatening, not defining me by my job like so many people in my circles have. But if I admit what I do, then he’ll know exactly why I’m here, and I’m not keen on him picturing Willow deep in her heat.
“I’m between things at the moment,” I lie. Sours my stomach a little, but confidentiality is a part of my clause, and that means not spilling my client’s details.
Alessandro smiles. “Fair enough. I might be expanding in future, so if you know the work, hit me up.”
Now I feel even heavier.
“Thanks, pal.”
He grins and gives the dog a good rub before backing away. “Well, I’ll be heading off now. Take care and thanks for passing on my message.”
I salute him with two fingers.
“C’mon, pup,” I call, heading back to the house.
It was a simple visit, but it reminds me Willow must have suitors lined up around the block wanting to call on her. Claim her, even. So, why’s such a beautiful, smart woman hiding from the world?
The upside is, it means I get to be the alpha sharing her bed. I whistle a happy tune as I clump up the steps and claim my coffee.
Alessandro guns his engine and pulls away, waving once out the window. It’s been a few days since I had a conversation with another human being outside of moaning. Didn’t know I was missing it.
Which reminds me, I haven’t heard from my brother at all.
After checking Willow is still asleep, I duck into the kitchen and get ingredients out to make some egg muffins full of vegetables, canned beans, and cheese to turn them into nutrient packed bites for the omega in my care.
Once they’re in the oven, I phone Joel.
He picks up on the fourth ring. “Just leave me the fuck alone already!”
“Dude.” I pull the phone back and check I’ve dialed the right number. “What did I do now?”
“Jeremy?” he slurs.
“Are you drunk?” I glance up at the clock on the wall. The timepiece is a work of art made with gold-streaked resin. “It’s barely midday.”
“Um, no. I don’t think so?”
Something in the background falls with a crash and I wince. “You okay?” My heartbeat goes from a steady thud-thud to a gallop.
“Well, shit. Maybe I am drunk.” A tin can rattles. “Yeah, I drank a bit. Oh, and I broke your gnome, sorry. He still has his head.” Joel chuckles, the sound oddly distorted. “But he can’t give you the finger anymore.”
“I don’t care about the gnome. I never liked it anyway. But what happened to you?” Things had to be bad for him to willingly crash at my place, but to still be there and drunk in the middle of the day? “Joel?”
He growls under his breath. “She was cheatin’ on me, little bro.”
Ice blooms in my veins.
“Tracey?” I breathe out.
“Yup. After all that damn effort I put in, the hussy was sleeping around. Apparently, she was entitled to it. Me and my dick weren’t enough to satisfy her.” My twin lets out a self-deprecating laugh.
“Fuck, Joel.” My stomach twists, thinking of him denned up in my little house, nursing a heartbreak all alone. I can’t even go to him. “Man, I’m so sorry.”
He scoffs. “Why’re you sorry? I should be begging you for forgiveness. Me being an ass this past year plus all that shit she said about you? I know you heard it. I haven’t been a good a big brother to you.”
I drop onto a stool, fighting a smile. “You’re only eighteen minutes older than me.”
He hiccups. “Exactly. May as well be a decade in twin time.”
I choke on a laugh. He’s not making any sense at all, but he’s always been a hilarious drunk.