Page 14 of Reeling for His Omega

Joaquin turned, only his head, and furrowed his brow. I imagined it was the same look he would give me if I’d grown a second head. “With modern day movie stars on it?”

A fair point. “Oh. I see that now. But who did it?”

“Didn’t you hire me to paint?”

I scoffed. “This is not the painting I hired you for. This is art. Who helped you? Who did this?”

“You hate it.”

“I’ve only been gone a week. And I bought the paint. It was…not this.”

I turned, rushing to offer Joaquin whatever he wanted, I found a crowd instead. “Where is he?” I asked.

“He rushed out. He…not in a good way. He was upset.”

“What? Why?”

“He thought you didn’t like it.”

Fuck me. Now I’d done it.

The others working there pointed to the front door and I took off, not knowing which direction to go after I got through the door. My wolf prompted me to head toward the center of town. I walked at a sprinting pace until I saw Joaquin up ahead.

I called his name. Nothing. Boy, he was fast.

“Joaquin, please. I love it!” I yelled out at the top of my lungs. Townspeople stopped to look at me. Some snickered. Some waved.

I’d make a spectacle of myself every day if it meant not hurting the omega. My omega? No, not mine.

Not yet.

He stopped walking but didn’t turn around. I realized he was waiting for me. Somehow I’d hurt him and I had to fix it. My wolf demanded I do it and so did my frantically beating heart.

“Hey,” I said, breathless as I caught up to him. His cheeks were bright red, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. “I was surprised. Caught off guard. I didn’t understand.”

His eyes flickered to meet mine but he said nothing.

“I love it, omega.” The name flowed from my mouth as though it had always been there, waiting to emerge. Of course, biologically, he was an omega. But alphas and omegas didn’t go around calling each other by those names unless it meant something, and it wasn’t until that second that I realized it did mean something.

He meant everything to me, and I’d hurt him. The scent of sadness and hurt and anger swirled around me, originating from this beautiful, talented man. I had to make it right.

“You do?” His chin quivered, and I gave in to the instinct I’d denied before and opened my arms, an invitation for him to accept or reject. Goddess, I hoped he accepted it.

“I do. I reacted badly and there’s no excuse for that but I’m so sorry. Please come back and tell me all about it. I want to know how you thought of the idea and how you got it done. It looks like so much work.”

He blew out a long breath. “I wanted you to love it so badly, and when I didn’t see that, I bolted. Kind of dramatic.”

I released him even though my wolf was screaming at me not to. My body felt the absence of his warmth. I hungered for it more than my next breath.

“Not dramatic. You were hurt. It happens to all of us.”

We walked back to the theater together and, while I wanted to hold his hand, I didn’t.

“It’s a mural. And those are traditionally community efforts. I designed and drew it, and many members of the Oliver Creek community popped in and helped.” He gave me that information as I escorted him back inside.

“How did you manage that?”

He shrugged. “They are all so excited to see the theater open. Then word got around that I was working on a mural and before I knew it, it was a community project.”