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“So, tell me,” he says, taking another step toward the bed. “What’s upsetting you? I want to fix it for you.”
My lips snap together as I try to swallow the hoarse lump rising in my throat. But he’s looking at me so intently, wanting to take care of me. Or at least, take care of this.
I force myself to speak. “The bed is so nice, but it doesn’t, um, smell right.”
If I weren’t ten seconds away from crying, I might think his face is sort of funny. His brows crouch low as he runs his eyes over the rumpled sheets behind me. And I can tell he hasn’t got the first clue what I’m talking about.
“It doesn’t smell right,” he repeats. “As in, you want new sheets? Different detergent?”
Lord help me, but this level of alpha cluelessness is actually sort of adorable. My lips twitch as I shake my head. “No. I mean, it doesn’t smell like you.”
He blinks. “Me?”
His incredulity steals my nerve. I bite my lower lip and sink back a bit. “Or Damon. Or Cassian.”
It’s supposed to be all three of you, knot-head.
You know, I tell my Omega. You really need to get this entitled attitude in check.
Bite me, she sniffs. Since, apparently, no one else around here is going to.
I watch as Smith processes this information, and his frown recedes. “Oh. Of course. Right.” Another uncomfortable half-cough. “How do we, ah, fix that?”
Part of me wants to groan, because this is painful. Another part just wants to grab him by his tie and yank him onto the mattress. Instead, a startled, disbelieving laugh trips out of me.
The second it happens, I start to panic. He’ll think I’m laughing at him. He’ll get angry. Will he take this room back?
But instead, his mouth curves up in the most handsome, wry half-smile I’ve ever seen. One of his thick blond brows arches.
“Am I funny to you, petal?”
I shake my head, trying my best to straighten out my face. “Nooooo, I just… Well, to answer your question, usually alphas sleep in an omega’s bed with them. Or they give the omega items that have their scent on them.”
Bless his heart, he actually looks around as if he’s going to magically find a basket of worn alpha clothing to hand me. “Right,” he mumbles, “That makes sense. All right.”
He turns back to me, frowning but also distinctly… not angry. Which is new. “What else?”
My mind spins, trying to decide where to begin and what he’s even asking for. Does he want some sort of list? Or a lesson on my designation? For some reason, both ideas make that coil in my center curl tighter, pulsing with hurt.
Smith watches me carefully and speaks before I have to. “No,” he says, quiet. “This isn’t right either. It shouldn’t be your responsibility to teach me. I’ll figure it out.”
The knot inside of me loosens a little. “Are you sure? I can?—”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re already doing too much. Which is something I need to talk to you about.” His dark eyes pierce mine. “Do you want to work?”
Do I…?
Who wants to work?
Then again, I guess some people do. Meg loves going into the office with Ronan. And I didn’t mind my job when it was just baking all day long.
Now that I’m here, though, with their amazing kitchen… It seems silly to ask him to reinstate my former position at Proper Coffee just to give me access to a decent oven.
Smith reads my expression, his own softening slightly. He lifts his hand and then pauses, halting himself for a long second before he reaches over and slowly smooths his palm over my loose curls, brushing some off of my face.
“You don’t have to go back there, Remi. Stay here. Keep making the house just the way you want it. Use that card I gave you to buy anything you want. And I mean that—anything.”
My brain conjures absurd images of dozens of things—outlandish stuff like yachts; and small things I’ve never had the heart to purchase for myself, like fancy headbands. He surely can’t mean anything.
