Twelve
Cam
Icrept downstairs in the morning, borrowed shirt and borrowed jeans back in place. i didn’t know how we’d managed to avoid getting jizz on them, but they were miraculously clean.
I was thankful I didn’t have to ask Vern for another set. I’d availed myself of the shower upstairs, so I figured I was at least somewhat presentable.
The look Vern gave me as I walked into the kitchen made me want to crawl back under the covers and die of embarrassment.
“’Bout time you got up,” the old vet said, stabbing a spatula in the direction of the coffee maker. “Is Wyatt up yet? If not, you’d better hope you make a better cuppa joe than he does.”
“He’s still sleeping,” I said churlishly, even as I slunk to the ancient machine.
I quirked a brow at it. There was no help for it; it was a percolator, like what you’d find at a low-end coffee chain.
As far as Cal was concerned, there was no such thing as a good cup of coffee out of one of those, so we had a fancy espresso machine.
Still, I could try. I grabbed the tin of ground coffee and started scooping some into the machine.
Vern clucked his tongue, but I couldn’t tell if it was at me, at Wyatt, or at the bacon he was frying.
As if sensing me looking at him, he turned his gaze to me. “You think he’s good to go for today? I need my assistant.”
“Er.” I grimaced, then scratched at the back of my neck. “That’ll depend.”
Vern waited, letting the silence percolate alongside the coffee. Sighing, I folded my arms and turned to lean back against the counter. “You ever hear of a human omega?”
Vern pursed his lips. “Can’t say as though I have,” he admitted.
I sighed. I’d figured as much, but Vern was vet.
Although he was ostensibly only supposed to treat actual animals, he still knew more about shifters than most humans, thanks to his decades of living in Coyote Creek.
In fact, Marnie sometimes called him up to discuss shifter cases with him.
Her knowledge largely began and ended with humans, while Vern could tell her all about cows or horses or dogs—all of which came in handy when considering what could be ailing a shifter.
“I’ve never heard of one either,” I said, frowning at the worn linoleum of the kitchen floor. “But Wyatt … he smells like an omega.”
Vern gave the bacon another poke. “Maybe he’s a shifter and just doesn’t know it?”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“It’s possible, though,” Vern said. “Could be he has a shifter relative somewhere in the family tree. Maybe the characteristics skip generations, so, you know, his parents or even his grandparents didn’t know.”
I chewed at my lip. “Maybe.” It made as much sense as anything else.
With a sigh, I pushed away from the counter. I turned again and grabbed three mugs out of the cupboard. “Anyway,” I said over the clink of porcelain and the hiss of bacon in the frying pan, “Wyatt smells like an omega, and last night, he smelled like an omega in heat.”
Vern set the frying pan back down with a clang. “Cameron,” he said slowly.
I ignored him in favor of pouring coffee into one of the mugs.
“You tell me one thing, Cameron.”
Sheepishly, I glanced at him. He glared. “Did you wrap it up?”
I must have turned redder than a tomato, my cheeks felt that hot.
Vern was a lot faster than he looked; he was across the kitchen in two strides, menacing me with the spatula. “Cameron Carlyle, if you got my new apprentice knocked up—”
Both of us stilled as we heard the floor upstairs creak. I looked back at Vern. He shook the spatula again. “I can’t afford for him to go on parental leave,” he hissed. “I just got him.”
I held up my hands. “Relax, doc. I really doubt it’s even possible.” I was lying through my teeth. If Wyatt could be a human who smelled like an omega, then why would it be impossible for him to be an omega?
Vern eyed me, then cracked an egg into his frying pan. “How do you like your eggs?” he asked.
“Scrambled,” I replied, just as Wyatt came down the stairs. “Morning!”
Wyatt marched—or, rather, limped—into the kitchen and grabbed the mug of coffee out of my hands. He took a big swig of it, then limped to the kitchen table and gingerly lowered himself into ones of the chairs.
“For fuck’s sake, Cameron,” Vern grumped. “Couldn’t you have gone easy on the boy? Ain’t no way he’s gonna be any use to me now. We got calves coming out our ears, and he’s moving like he’s twice my age.”
“I’m fine,” Wyatt said quietly from the table. His voice was hoarse.
“Christ on a cracker!” Vern cried, then shook his head. The eggs snapped and crackled in the pan, and I quietly poured a second and then a third mug of coffee.
I slid one over to Vern, then took a seat at the table across from Wyatt. Wyatt grimaced as he took another swallow of coffee. “So, uh … how are you?”
For most omegas, heat episodes lasted anywhere from three to five days. But Wyatt didn’t smell like he had last night, which meant either he’d never been in heat—and maybe he wasn’t an omega like I thought—or his heat had broken.
I didn’t really want to contemplate that last possibility, so I sniffed the air as subtly as I could, hoping to catch a whiff of fresh snow.
Wyatt smiled vaguely at me. “I’m fine,” he said again, then cleared his throat. “Really.”
He took another sip of coffee, then grimaced again. I had a sinking feeling as I looked down into my cup.
From the other side of the kitchen, I heard Vern take a big swig of his coffee, followed by the sound of it being spat back into the sink. “Cameron Carlyle!” Vern bellowed. “I asked if you could make a decent cup of coffee! What the hell passes for decent at Rocky Ridge?!”
Wyatt grimaced once more, then slipped out of the chair. “Never mind,” he said, grabbing the carafe. “I’ll start another pot.”
Vern stalked by him as he made his way to the sink. The vet dropped a plate of bacon and eggs on the table. “You’re lucky,” he said to me, then turned and stalked back across the room.
And, looking at Wyatt, I did feel lucky.
It wasn’t long after breakfast that it became apparent I’d worn out my welcome. Wyatt was insisting he was fine, and Vern was glowering at me from the dining room, where he was packing his medical equipment into a bag.
“Are you sure?” I asked Wyatt for what felt like the millionth time. I’d been trying to wrangle out of him whether or not he was still in heat, but he wasn’t picking up any of my hints.
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I. Am. Fine,” he said in a tone that could have frozen the town’s namesake creek over in the middle of July. “I don’t need you asking me half-a-dozen times. If I say I’m fine, believe me.”
I huffed, then shot another look at Vern. “Right. Well.” I sucked in another breath. “Guess I’ll be off then.”
Vern took that as his cue. “Probably for the best,” he said in an easy-going way, like he hadn’t just been trying to make me spontaneously combust. “We’re headed out for the day.”
“The day?” I didn’t like that. Wyatt was an omega in heat, or just recovering from the shortest heat episode ever, but the point was that he needed to rest.
“Yup,” Vern agreed. “No idea when we’ll be back. Could be midnight, for all I know.”
I could feel my lips curling back, my metaphorical hackles rising. Vern must have known he was getting my goat, because he just grinned. “Can’t rush Mother Nature.”
“No,” I growled, “I guess you can’t.”
Vern started not-so-subtly herding me toward the door. “Been real nice seeing ya, Cameron,” he said, still in that conversational tone. “Let’s keep the visits infrequent.”
I wanted to snap at him—how could I possibly keep to infrequent visits if my mate was living in his house? But I knew I’d sound ridiculous.
Wyatt wasn’t my mate. Hell, nobody was even sure he was an omega.
At the best, we were maybe something like friends with benefits.
At worst, I was a one-night stand he was never going to speak to again, and we’d have to go to great lengths to avoid each other at the grocery store or otherwise risk awkwardly trying to make small talk in the produce aisle while trying not to remember what the other person looked like naked.
Christ, I didn’t think I could go through that again. I’d been so relieved when Holly Blackwood moved out of town to go to college. Never having to see her again was a blessing.
Vern all but shoved me outside. “See ya around,” he said with a faux smile and a wave. Then he drew back, letting the screen door slam shut.
I turned to glower, but he’d shut the storm door too.
I faced the empty gravel drive. Part of me was tempted to linger, then try to track them. I’d noted that Vern cleverly didn’t mention where they were going today.
It was a lost cause. Unless I shifted and hopped into the back of the truck, they’d get away from me in a hot minute. A coyote was no match for Vern’s driving. And it was tough to track a vehicle.
With a sigh, I realized that my only option was to hoof it home and hope Wyatt didn’t avoid me like the plague.
Oh, and to face the wrath of my elder brother.
“Not like I’ve never done any of this before,” I muttered, then shifted into my fur and pointed myself in the direction of home.