The Pregnant Wolf Omega Next Door (Babies For Broken Dads #7)

1. The Most Embarrassing Meet Cute

THE MOST EMBARRASSING MEET CUTE

Emre’s stomach rumbled, but nothing in his apartment smelled good.

He rubbed his round belly and stared miserably into his empty fridge. Abbie needed to feed soon; he needed to scrounge up some food so his body could produce milk for her, since it couldn’t just conjure milk from nothing.

He was running out of money, though. There wasn’t any left for fancy stuff. He barely had enough for the basics.

Damn you, past self, he thought. If he were the only one in this situation, he could starve a little, no problem.

But there were three of them: him, Abbie, and the unborn pup in his belly.

If only he hadn’t continued to stay with Ronald, even after all the beatings. If only Emre still had a pack to return to.

He shook off the what-ifs. They weren’t going to help him now. Maybe if he peeked into the dumpsters behind the grocery store, there would be some food he could salvage...?

It would be difficult to reach in there, with his belly as round as it was.

The unborn pup kicked, and Emre strengthened his resolve.

He was about to check the clock to see if it was late enough to dumpster-dive, when the most heavenly scent wafted into his nose.

Emre froze. He sniffed again. It wasn’t his imagination.

The wonderful aroma came from a hearty meat stew, like one of Gramma’s recipes that he vaguely remembered from his childhood. Beef, lots of it, cooked tender and accompanied by carrots, tomatoes, and potatoes.

His mouth watered.

The pup kicked again. Emre grunted.

“No, we can’t have that. It’s not ours,” he told his child sadly.

He kept sniffing, though. His windows were shut tight because it was the middle of winter, so the scent had to have come from under his front door. From one of the tenants in this building.

He stretched out his hearing. The sound of chopping and stirring came from the apartment two doors down, the one that had been empty for ages. A new neighbor had moved in recently.

Maybe it was a kindly grandmother who lived there now. Maybe... Emre could ask for half a cup of stew? It would help him finish his stale loaf of bread.

He made sure Abbie was still sleeping in Buttwheel—his shopping cart friend who thankfully did not need any food.

“I’m going next door for just a minute,” he whispered to the cart.

There was magic in metals. As ores were purified, the magic in them accumulated. When these metals were shaped into objects and the metal parts moved, their magic interacted, turning the objects sentient. It was how locks could smile, and shopping carts could frolic.

Buttwheel flipped its crooked wheels obligingly, rocking unsteadily back and forth to keep Abbie comfortable.

“Thank you.” Emre patted Buttwheel’s side.

He checked to make sure his shirt was mostly clean.

Then he stepped into his shoes and left his door unlocked.

With each waddling step, he sniffed, pretending that the hearty stew was filling his belly.

Two doors down, he stopped. The wonderful smell was the strongest here.

He clutched his mug to his hammering heart.

At worst, his neighbor would just say no.

He raised his fist timidly and knocked, feeling as though he was interrupting something.

The chopping sounds stopped. So he knocked again, holding his breath.

Heavy footsteps approached from behind the door.

His neighbor was big. An alpha, Emre realized with a jolt of unease. Worse, he couldn’t run. Not with how heavily pregnant he was, starving and clumsy on his feet.

The lock clicked, and the door opened.

Emre braced himself. He was prepared for the glorious scent of stew.

What he wasn’t prepared for, was the sheer hotness of the man before him.

The new neighbor was two heads taller than Emre, muscled and so large that he would have to duck his head and turn sideways to fit through his front door.

Hot Neighbor had striking brown eyes and inky black hair.

He was wearing a thin white tank top that barely concealed his pecs; his biceps were girthy, and his shorts stretched around his thighs.

And—sweet Mother Moon—his thick bulge. It pressed against the soft, thin material of his shorts, proud and unashamed, the crown of its tip making it so obvious that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Emre’s heat was long over, but staring at this man... he felt as though he might be going into heat again.

He focused on his other senses so his brain wouldn’t melt. Beneath the herb-filled aroma of meat and potatoes, Emre caught a whiff of smoke, fresh sweat, and musk.

He gulped. And breathed in again.

Hot Neighbor smelled amazing.

“Hi,” the man said, glancing at the empty mug in Emre’s hands.

Emre realized that he should’ve introduced himself a whole minute ago, except he’d missed that chance. Now they were staring awkwardly at each other.

Well, Hot Neighbor was staring at him. Emre had been staring at Hot Neighbor’s bulge.

“Can I help you?” Hot Neighbor asked.

Something smells really good, was what Emre meant to say.

What came out of his mouth was, “You smell really good.”

He froze, his entire face growing hot. His skin was turning blotchy too, but Emre did not care anymore.

“Sorry!” he squeaked. “I meant your chest—No, I-I meant your balls. Fuck! No. Not your balls. Holy fuck, stop saying ‘balls’!”

He brought his hands up to hide his face, and almost brained himself with the mug.

Hot Neighbor was watching him with the corners of his lips turned up, as though he wanted to laugh.

“I’m hungry,” Emre blurted. And cringed. “I-I mean, your food just smells really good, and... And I wondered if I could have a taste. Just half a cup. A quarter cup. Please.”

Hot Neighbor’s smile had dropped off his face. His eyebrows drew together, and he swept his gaze down Emre’s body. Emre felt completely naked, too thin and too weak.

“Yeah, okay. Let me see if it’s ready.” Hot Neighbor left the door open and turned away. His shoulders looked amazing from behind. His ass, too.

Emre swallowed his whimper. He probably has a mate. He seems perfect.

Before he knew it, Hot Neighbor was in front of him again, reaching for Emre’s mug. “Any allergies?” Emre shook his head, and Hot Neighbor nodded. “Be right back.”

He couldn’t help checking out Hot Neighbor’s living room.

It was small like his, but instead of the furniture Emre had scrounged from the curb, Hot Neighbor had a beautiful leather couch, a wine-red rug, and a nice coffee table.

His walls were a pleasant shade of cream, and there was a closed laptop on the table, with several scraps of paper around it.

Hot Neighbor stepped back in front of the doorway, startling Emre.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The man frowned. In his hands were Emre’s mug, and a loaf of bread that smelled so fresh, Emre moaned.

Hot Neighbor froze. “You... You shouldn’t be moaning like that in front of strangers,” he said quietly.

Emre had the sudden mental image of Hot Neighbor making him moan in several other ways. Several pants-melting ways.

He was wet between his legs in seconds, and terribly grateful that the man was not a wolf. Otherwise, he would have smelled Emre’s slick.

But from the way the man’s gaze darkened, maybe he knew the effect he had on Emre anyway.

“Here.” The man pressed the bread and warm mug into Emre’s hands. Their fingers brushed, and something sparked between them.

Emre inhaled sharply, looking up. The alpha stared at him, then shook his head as though he thought he’d imagined the same thing.

“It’s not too hot for you, right?” the man said with a slight furrow to his brow. “I made sure not to fill it up too full.”

He had filled the mug almost to the brim with stew, just far enough from the edge that it wouldn’t spill.

Emre gasped. “That’s a lot of stew. Won’t you—Do you have enough left for your mate?”

Something flickered through Hot Neighbor’s face. “I don’t have a mate.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Emre wanted to ask if he had a boyfriend or girlfriend, but maybe he had already asked too many questions.

Only then did Hot Neighbor remove his hands from Emre’s, now that they were both sure he wouldn’t drop the mug. Emre’s hands felt cold without his touch.

“Will your alpha be mad that you asked someone else for food?” Hot Neighbor glanced at Emre’s belly.

“I don’t have anyone,” Emre blurted. Then he cringed. “I-I mean, I have a baby. And a shopping cart.”

The man’s gaze sharpened. He had taken a step back, but now he leaned closer, looking as though he was holding himself back from Emre. “If you ever need anything else... You can ask me. I’ll help.”

Emre couldn’t believe his good luck. He took a reluctant step back, discreetly sniffing at Hot Neighbor again. “Okay.”

“Wait.”

Emre paused, his foot frozen halfway off the floor.

“What’s your name?” Hot Neighbor asked, his expression intense.

“Emre.”

“Emre.” His name shouldn’t sound so good, rolling off a stranger’s tongue. Hot Neighbor wet his lips. “My name is Zenith.”

“Zenith.” It was a good name.

Zenith rumbled low in his chest, like he was pleased. Emre’s slick began to soak through his pants.

“I-I should get going,” he squeaked. “Thank you for the food!”

He hurried down the grubby hallway back to his own apartment, feeling Zenith’s attention on him the whole time.

When he had locked the door and carefully set his treasure on the kitchen counter, Emre tore off a chunk of warm, soft bread, dipping it into the stew.

The flavors burst across his tongue. He moaned and swallowed the bread whole, before popping more stew-soaked bread into his mouth and moaning again.

He was expecting most of the mug to be broth instead of vegetables or even beef, but he’d barely made any headway into the stew before he found generous chunks of meat.

“His meat is so big,” Emre whispered to himself. “I don’t know if I can swallow it all.”

“I’ll assume that you’re talking about the beef,” Zenith said from two doors down, his voice quiet but still there amidst all the sounds from their neighbors. “You should know that I don’t recommend choking on any kind of meat.”

Emre froze. He can hear me?

Gods, it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe Zenith’s hearing was almost as good as his own.

Emre clutched his face in horror, resolving never to bump into his neighbor ever again.