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His thick brows drop while he considers that. A moment later he sighs and raises his hands, palms out. “Listen, yesterday, I would have told you to get fucked because you clearly make her upset every time you open your fat mouth, and you practically rejected her outright. But, honestly? I really don’t want to choose between my best friend and the girl of my dreams. And you did get her to come out tonight; so maybe you have more of a handle on this thing than I thought.”
He’s giving me the benefit of the doubt, even though I know he shouldn’t. He always does. Always has. In a lot of ways, he’s the only one who ever did.
I should tell him that, sometime. Maybe.
I know I’ll get no such mercy from the other guys. They think I’ve rejected our scent-match and threatened their chances of successfully courting her.
And—judging by the way they’re both mooning as Meg steps out in a dress that doesn’t even fit her properly—they’d probably sell me to human traffickers before they let her step in a puddle.
I wave the sales girl over. She’s a beta, but young enough that she has stars in her eyes when she looks at me. I flash an extra-wide smile, knowing it will get me what I want.
“We need the next size down in that,” I say, gesturing at the too-flowy maxi dress. “In black, not white.” Another thought occurs to me. “And loungewear, if you have any. An assortment—all colors and fabrics. I don’t care. She needs all of it. And if any are loose matching sets, she’ll take two of each. Slippers or socks to match.”
The girl scurries off and I nod, satisfied.
There. Omegas like cozy shit. She’ll spend way more time in casual apparel than she will in anything for going out. These other assholes clearly have no idea how to shop.
But when I look up, Theo’s grin is wider than I’ve ever seen it.
“What?” I demand. She needs everything. “I want to get out of here and you all suck at shopping.”
He nods, the motion somehow mocking. “Good thing you’re here, then, Vanilla.”
… “What did you just call me?”
He claps my shoulder, starting toward the others. “I always knew you had a sweet scent, but Meg told me it’s very vanilla. She asked if that means you’re boring in bed.” He shrugs innocently. “I told her I wouldn’t know.”
It certainly isn’t the first time someone has made the vanilla joke. Usually, I shut that shit down the old-fashioned way—by proving exactly how non-vanilla I can be.
Fuck. This omega is just begging for a lesson.
chapter
thirty-four
Meg starts to flag by the fourth shop.
Unfortunately, it’s the most important stop on our trip. While she yawns, leaning into my arm, I mentally kick myself. We should have started here. And we should have stopped to feed her by now.
“Do you want to go home, sweetheart?” I offer, smoothing my hand down her arm.
She must be exhausted. She drove across the whole state today. Packed up all her stuff by herself. Loaded her own car. And Declan had her in and out of so many outfits at that boutique—always demanding this color or that size—I swore she might finally snap and claw his face off if he shoved one more item through her dressing room door.
According to my research, any one of those things would be an ordeal for an omega. All of them in one day? Our Meg is tough.
Pride mixes with my guilt when she blinks up at me, the motion a little too slow for my liking. She seems to remember she’s trying to act happy and perks up a bit. “I’m fine!”
We’re in the middle of the premier store for anything one could possibly need for a nest. They have waterproof cushions, covers, sheets, towels, pillows. Dim string lights, neon signs, salt lamps. Sex toys, mini fridges.
Usually, I spend pack shopping trips silently calculating in my head and quietly hiding a coronary. Ronan has never lived without his wealth, and Theo grew up solidly ensconced in the upper middle class. Whatever frugal impulses Declan maintained from his childhood of neglect are a faint memory ever since he got drafted. I’m ordinarily the only one whose skin crawls when I watch them charge our carbon fiber Amex.
I don’t know why. We have plenty. Tons. More than I like to think about, actually, between Ronan’s inheritance, his company holdings, two NFL contracts, and the salary I earn from my duties with the team.
Still, it tends to bother me.
Not this time.
Because Meg clearly needs all of this, and, moreover, I want it for her. Anytime she touches anything with even a spark of interest, I put it in our cart. We’ve filled three so far.
