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I nod. “No tutor necessary.”
He exhales a relieved sigh and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “Oh, thank god. I hate to imagine how expensive a tutor would be.”
“Probably about as expensive as all the stuff you bought for my heat plan.”
He scoffs. “That doesn’t count. I love to spoil, remember? I don’t keep receipts for my omegas.”
Okay, so I hate that word—omegas, as in plural.
He frowns at the stack of folded blankets. “Let me pack these for you to take.” He leaves in a flurry before I can refuse, and returns with paper shopping bags from Anthropologie and Bloomingdale’s.
My attention snags on the pink splotches on his chest and neck. “Are you having an allergic reaction?”
“Huh?” He looks down his front. “Oh, that. No. My body likes to broadcast when I’m stressed.”
“Tyler?” I ask.
He unfolds a bag before he replies. “Yes. I’m so sorry about all of this.”
Guilt curdles in my stomach. “I’m sorry. I showed up in heat and didn’t give either of you a warning.”
“You can’t apologize for your biology.”
“Tyler said something similar at the beach.”
“Sounds like him.” Alden stuffs blankets into the bag until the corner starts to rip. “I didn’t expect him to react this way. He’s never struggled like this when I’ve had omegas over. Had I known, I would have reserved a hotel room.” He blows out a long exhale until his shoulders slump.
The blotches on his neck are definitely darker, more red than pink, and growing larger.
I rub Alden’s shoulder. “I see how much you care about him. I know you wouldn’t hurt him intentionally.”
He nods, then takes my hand from his shoulder and kisses it. “Thank you.”
I don’t know the story between these two men, but I have a guess. Alden never mentioned a pack, and denied it when I asked last night. But I bet they’re a pack without the title, and too oblivious to realize it.
Typical idiot alphas.
Maybe that’s why I responded as strongly to Tyler as I did to Alden.
I move to help Alden with the next bag.
“No. Eat your breakfast, little omega.”
His command soothes me as I take a bite of the flaky croissant, but I wish I could soothe him too.
By the time I finish my breakfast, he’s stuffed three bags with linen, and another with produce.
“This is too much,” I say for the fourth time, one for each bag he filled.
“I know it seems extravagant, but it would make me feel better to know you have them. Donate them if you want, but I have no use for them.”
I smile. “Do you mind sharing the heat plan too?”
His face blanks.
“I was teasing you.”
“Well, in that case…” He taps his temple, dimples flashing as he smiles. “Sorry, but it’s all up here.”
