Chapter 36 Ryder #3
“You danced?” Dixon questioned, leaning into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed. My heart sparked at the sight of her touching him, and I took a deep breath, reminding myself of my new determination to be better. She wasn’t only mine. She was ours. And we were hers.
“Poorly,” Tessa admitted with a low chuckle.
“I only kept going because my school required an extracurricular and I was even worse at fencing and chess. Dancers are stunning though, aren’t they?
I used to get jealous of Omegas that had talent like that.
Painting or singing. It meant they could delay all the pressure of mating.
I saw this young ballerina years ago who floated.
She literally floated across the stage. Nelly…
something. I wonder if she’s still dancing. ”
She dropped her hand, reaching to take the giant vase. Dixon obliged and then stood awkwardly as Tessa fumbled under the weight of the monstrous bouquet. When it became clear that they were simply too big, and she was simply too petite, he took them back.
“How about I just put them on the table?” He offered sheepishly.
With a laugh, Tessa nodded. “I always like to pretend I’m super strong, but I guess my physique is currently honed for dueling street rats and digging in trash cans, not gigantic bouquets.”
Darkness fell over Dixon’s face.
“We’ll change that.” His voice was grim now and his hands were tightening around the vase.
I put my hand gently on his shoulder, fearful he’d shatter the glass.
He stiffened under my touch, then relaxed a tiny fraction.
After giving himself a gentle shake, he forced a strained smile.
“I’m a certified gym rat. I’ll put together a workout regimen for you.
You’ll be tossing me over your shoulder in no time. ”
“That’s a tall order,” Tray’s voice broke in and we all turned to find him strolling into the room, Josie still attached like a new permanent body part. He strode over to Dixon, slung an arm around the taller guy’s shoulders, and hip bumped him. Dixon frowned as the bump jostled the flowers.
“Stop being an idiot, Tray.”
“You know you love me, Dix.” Tray’s grin widened. Josie stretched and began struggling to escape his arms.
“Silly cat,” Tessa breathed out, rushing over and pulling the cat away from Tray. Josie purred loudly as Tessa cradled her against one arm and stroked her fur. The feline was totally content again.
“Don’t let her fool you. She had a blast with me.” Tray crossed his arms and pursed his lips, shaking his head at Josie.
“I can’t believe I didn’t even wonder where she was after my bath.
” Tessa frowned, not seeming to register Tray’s words.
“I’m sorry,” she said, bringing Josie up to snuggle against her fur for a heartbeat.
I could tell it bothered her—that the cat she’d refused to leave behind, who had been her entire world for so long, could become an afterthought.
“Don’t be sorry. You just subconsciously knew she was safe.
” Tray moved away from Dixon and slapped his chest. “Cat Dad Number One was just giving her the full tour,” Tray beamed.
“We played in the courtyard, checked out the studio, the gym, the garage. Shouldn’t have taken her into our sin den.
She found the feathers. Had a blast but absolutely trashed them. ”
“Why the hell are you Cat Dad Number One?” Dixon grumbled, still holding the roses.
“Because we’re ranking ourselves according to enthusiasm.” Tray shrugged.
“We should rank by age.” Mac arrived then, a pitcher of fresh juice in one hand and milk in the other. He strode to the large table and leaned over to put the beverages down.
“Importance in the band,” I countered.
“Sheer fucking size,” Dixon’s voice boomed. “I’ll be Cat Dad Number One. You can be Cat Dad Number Two, Tray. We can call you Cat Dad Shit for short.”
“So, then your nickname is Cat Dad Piss?” Tray shot back.
Dixon stomped forward. Tray hopped around like a boxer, ready to dodge.
“At least put down the flowers,” an exasperated Mac nearly shouted, his voice fighting for dominance over the situation that was quickly spiraling.
“What would Cat Dad Three and Four be nicknamed?” Even though Tessa didn’t yell like Mac, her voice was the one that stopped us all in our tracks. “Would three be like... a combo? Would four be constipation?” Her head was tilted, eyes shifting in thought, as she absentmindedly petted Josie.
“I absolutely refuse to be Cat Dad Constipation.” Mac spoke elegantly, despite the ridiculous conversation.
“I don’t think you’re the smallest,” Tessa mused, lifting a brow. “I mean, Tray is the shortest, but he’s more muscular. Dixon is the biggest hands down. But I feel like you and Ryder are physically on par. Are we going by height or some other metric?”
Tray barked out a laugh. Dixon chuckled loudly. Mac was back to his unflappable self, watching us all in bemusement.
“I think maybe we should pin this subject,” I gave Tess a lopsided smile. “We’ll just be the four cat dads for now.”
“Very musketeers.” Her eyes twinkled. God help us, they were sparkling. I knew, without a doubt, that Tessa could wrap all of us around her petite Omega finger and we’d happily stay twisted.
Quiet fell.
I wondered if the other guys were absolutely bowled over by her beauty, lost for words and absorbing the sight of her.
“Well, if you all aren’t hungry, I certainly am.” Mac broke the spell. He was staring down at the insulated bags, absorbing the fact that they weren’t fully emptied. “Honestly.” He tsk-tsked. “I cleaned the room, set the table, made the drinks.”
We all shuffled our feet. Mac was scolding playfully, but he wasn’t wrong.
“I got the decoration.” Dixon held up the stupidly tall, wide flowers in triumph.
“Yet you still hold them,” Mac challenged, quirking an eyebrow.
“On the table with them. Ryder, get the rest of the food out. Tray, get the pepper and salt. I left the butter out to soften, so bring that too. Tessa,” he locked his gaze on our Omega, and she shrunk away slightly, waiting for a scolding, “the only thing you need do is sit down and wait to be served.”
Mac pulled out a chair. He waited patiently as Tessa made her way over and sat down. Once she was sitting, Josie hopped out of her arms and landed silently to the floor. She shook gently, fluffing out her fur, and then disappeared beneath the table.
“Perfect,” Mac said, pushing her chair closer to the table.
He leaned down, whispered something in Tessa’s ear, and seconds later she tentatively smiled and nodded.
Lightning fast, Mac kissed her on the cheek.
Her cheeks pinked and she ran her tongue across her upper lip before snagging the bottom with her top teeth.
It was so cute, an obvious force of habit.
Her mouth glistened when it fell loose again.
I wanted so badly to race over and kiss her.
“No fair,” Tray teased, “Ryder got a kiss, now you. What’s the secret?”
Tessa glanced over at our mischievous drummer. “Well, I told Ryder to kiss me. Mac, though, asked permission.”
And then she winked.
This exquisite girl who’d had her world destroyed more than once, wasn’t broken.
A lesser person would have been irreversibly crushed by losing their family, living on the streets, being sold to strangers.
Her resilience was unimaginable. Her spirit without fucking equal.
The room began to buzz with noise. Tray ragging on Dixon.
Dixon fussing with the flowers in the middle of the table.
Mac playing perfect host. I finished setting out the food, fishing out a giant container of berries last. I smiled as I pried open the lid.
Plump, cardinal red strawberries sliced in fourths.
Fuzzy, moist raspberries. Dark-as-midnight blackberries.
I walked them over to Tessa, setting the entire container on her plate.
I stayed next to her, one hand on the back of her chair, the other hand flexing nervously. I wanted to please her so badly.
The joy that poured over her was visible and indescribable.
Her posture straightened. Her lips curved into the most genuine smile we’d seen yet. Her eyes widened in excitement. She twisted at the waist, turning in the chair so she could see me. She lifted one hand to cover mine.
“Thank you,” she said, voice almost a whisper.
“You don’t have to say thank you. It’s nothing,” I mumbled awkwardly, voice flooding with emotion at how happy simple damn berries had made her.
“It’s everything,” she said fiercely, brilliant blue eyes willing me to believe her. One by one, she locked eyes with Dixon, Mac, and Tray. “Everything,” she repeated.
She dropped her hand and turned around. My skin tingled with the memory of her touch.
I stepped away from her, shoving that shimmering-with-sensation hand into my pocket for safe keeping.
I moved back to the bags, picking them up and tossing them towards the wall to slump against the floor.
I wanted to sit next to her. I ached to be close to her.
But I reminded myself not to be selfish.
The other guys hadn’t sat down yet. Mac wasn’t even in the room for some reason.
Would it be selfish to steal the seat to her right instead of letting the others choose first?
Dixon was on the move. I could tell he had the same desire. Hell, we probably all did.
Suddenly, Tessa picked up her fork.
The rest of us went totally still. Dixon stopped pulling out his chair—the one to Tessa’s right.
Tray gripped a half-drawn curtain—he'd been trying to block the window that was letting in too much blinding sunlight. Mac hovered in the room’s entrance, a butter dish in one hand and the salt and pepper mills in the other—apparently Tray, easily distracted by nature, had forgotten.
I was carved of stone, refusing to breathe and still hoping no one else would claim the chair to Tessa’s left.
She speared berries carefully, a little wrinkle forming on her forehead as she concentrated, until the tines were fully concealed.
She studied the fruit, almost as if she didn’t trust they were edible.
I wondered if that was a force of habit too, adopted from digging through trash and hoping what she found wasn’t molded.
Tessa lifted the fork, sniffed the berries, her smile bloomed again.
We didn’t want to scare her. We wanted her to dive in feverishly, eat with abandon, and know she was safe.
When she finally took a bite, only pulling half of the fork’s contents into her mouth, it was like the entire room let out a collective sigh of relief.
Tray finished pulling the curtain. Mac brought the butter and seasoning to the table.
Dixon sat down, glancing furtively over at our Omega.
Heart pounding, I quickly strode to the table.
I was going to take the other seat next to Tessa. Sharing be damned.
But as I pulled the chair out, Josie slipped into view from beneath the dining table and pounced onto the velvety seat.