by Grey, Aspen
An Alpha For Two
Socal Cuties - Book 2
Aspen Grey
Contents
Scent of the Author
Also by Aspen Grey
1. Perry
2. Jedrik
3. Roberto
4. Perry
5. Jedrik
6. Perry
7. Jedrik
8. Roberto
9. Perry
10. Roberto
11. Jedrik
12. Perry
13. Jedrik
14. Roberto
15. Jedrik
16. Perry
17. Roberto
18. Jedrik
19. Perry
20. Roberto
21. Jedrik
22. Jedrik
23. Perry
24. Roberto
25. Jedrik
26. Perry
27. Jedrik
28. Roberto
Epilogue
Scent of the Author
Also by Aspen Grey
I. An Omega For Two
1. Max
2. Sawyer
Scent of the Author
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Also by Aspen Grey
Scarlet Mountain Pack Series
Texas Heat Series
Foxes of Scarlet Peak Series
SoCal Cuties Series
Chapter One
Perry
“One regular green tea!” I called out as the snobby-looking girl with a torn t-shirt handed me her debit card, her eyes barely even registering my existence. “Will that be all?”
I thought my question would force her to look back at me, but I guess not. I was still clinging to that last bit of hope that I had inside that humanity wasn’t complete shit, but as she laughed and waved to her friends who were standing by the patio taking selfies, I felt that bit of hope waning.
“Miss?” I repeated, getting her attention finally. “Will there be anything else?”
“Oh, no!” she replied as though my question was idiotic. I swiped her card and spun the tablet around to her.
“Just a signature here,” I told her, not even bothering to tell her about the tip screen that came next. Of course she wouldn’t be leaving me one. But as I turned away to grab her iced tea, I actually saw her enter in an amount and confirm it before heading back to her friends who raised their cameras for more selfies.
I guess maybe she figured giving me a tip would make up for her rude behavior, but to be honest, I’d rather deal with nice people all day and make a little less money than have to suffer as a slave to entitled assholes who thought that paying me off was an excusable way to live their lives.
“Oh, God!” one of her friends cackled. “I look like I have five chins!”
“My tits look awful from this angle! Hold the camera higher!”
“Guys, get the sun in the background!”
“No, don’t do that! It makes everything glare!”
“Yeah, but then the light won’t be all over my face. I have, like, no makeup on today!”
My patience was flickering like a candle at the end of its wick, and I looked behind me at the giant white clock hanging on the wall beneath the artificial herb garden and saw that it was only four o’clock.
Two more hours, I thought as Chrissy slid past me to the espresso machine.
“Right behind you,” she warned me as I grabbed the pitcher of green tea and reached for a plastic cup.
“Here you go, babe.”
It was Roberto, my boyfriend’s voice. He stepped up beside me and set the cup down, his sweet smell—ripe mangos—wafting familiarly over me.
“Thanks,” I said with a quick smile. His eyes, strong and brown, were like a warm embrace that always helped me feel like the day wasn’t going to be as long or as hard as it ended up being. He was the light in my life—the only thing steady or strong that I could rely on.
After all, I ran away as a teenager to escape a household of abuse, infidelity, alcoholism and general chaos. I’d caught a bus out of Michigan to San Diego and never looked back. I didn’t know what had happened to my mother and father, whether or not they were even alive, and frankly, I didn’t care.
“Don’t worry about the princess,” he told me, obviously having overheard the most recent transaction. “She’ll be single and lonely in ten years, crying herself to sleep in a house filled with cat piss.”
I swallowed a laugh as I poured her drink and put a lid on the cup. It occurred to me that I hadn’t even gotten her name, so I slid the drink onto the counter and simply called out, “Ice green tea!”
By the scrambling around in her group by the patio, I was pretty sure she’d heard me, so I quickly wiped my hands on my apron and headed out back. The swinging door creaked as I booted it open and I made my way past the old sink and leaned back against the enormous refrigerator and closed my eyes. I heard Roberto follow me out and smiled as he took my hand.
“Don’t worry, babe,” he said comfortingly. “Only two more hours.”
“Two hours of Hell,” I joked—only sort of.
“Hey, at least we have a job,” he replied.
“Yeah…,” I grumbled.
“Or else we’d be out on the streets with the rest of the homeless.”
As if you need to remind me.
Our apartment in Pacific Beach was barely affordable as it was, and that was with both of us working at least forty hours a week. Without our jobs here at Coffee First, we’d be in big trouble.
Roberto was from Tijuana and had crossed the border for a better life. His family had been killed by the cartel after his father got mixed up in their business. Roberto had never gone that way, and we’d met a year ago by chance one night at a bar. We’d both felt the attraction instantly, but were both hesitant about any kind of real relationship.
I’d been burned before by an alpha promising me the world, who was just in it for a quick fuck. He left me broken and battered (emotionally) and pretty much unavailable for anything remotely considered “love.” Roberto had basically sworn off anything resembling family after what had happened with his back in Mexico.
So we’d decided to be friends with benefits and make sure things never got too serious. “Just have fun.” That was our motto, and so far it had been working well for us, but there was something lurking in the back of my mind, something telling me that I was missing out—missing out on something more.
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” I said with a smile, looking up at his beautiful eyes. “Two more hours?”
Roberto smiled. “Two more hours!”
“Okay, folks!” a loud, gruff voice came from the back office, startling me and causing me to jump. I looked down the hallway as Chad, the branch manager, came marching towards us, obviously something uncomfortable up his ass.
“What’s eating him?” Roberto whispered. Without hesitation, he stepped right up to us, pointed a finger in my boyfriend’s face and growled.
“You! You’re fucking fired!”
Chapter Two
Jedrik
Applying shellac to wood is something not a lot of people know how to do or even want to try. It’s a delicate process—an old one, which involves dissolving shellac flakes in denatured alcohol and using a brush to spread it over the surface of whatever piece of furniture you are finishing. It’s bea
utiful, natural and absolutely glows when the light hits it, but one wrong stroke or one twitch of your hand and the entire thing is ruined. Then you’ve got to sand the whole thing down and start over. Do that enough times and your piece is ruined. So why do I do it? Because the end result is worth it and I love a challenge.
Breathing through my handkerchief to avoid getting the smell of the alcohol into my nose, I worked my brush carefully over the piece of hardwood cherry that would eventually become the top of a gorgeous coffee table, picturing it with all four legs attached, sitting in the living room of some rich guy living in Del Mar or La Jolla.
“Almost there,” I said to myself as I carefully lifted my brush from the surface and took a step back.
Once the shellac dried it would be time for the varnish, a protective layer that would harden and keep the table from getting scratched. I’d have to do a few of them, probably three, to make sure it stayed in good shape. After all, not all owners used coasters like they should. The shop was basically dust-free, but just to make sure, I stepped all the way back to the wall and then removed my mask.
“Almost there,” I repeated, watching the table take shape in my mind.
Furniture—woodworking—was my love (and yes, even the kind you’re thinking), something I’d devoted myself to after both of my parents died. Cancer took my mom and grief took my father not long after that. I’d been working a nine-to-five job as a marketing director for a small advertising firm, pursuing woodworking as a bit of a hobby, but once my folks died and I realized how short life was, I quit, saved my money and started my own business.
Having a passion for a job is incredible, but it doesn’t leave me much time for a love life. In fact, I’d basically sworn off anything serious as far as relationships go, as the pain from my parents’ death was just too real and I had a hard time seeing myself falling in love anytime soon. The closest I ever came was with my ex, Sasha, an omega who’d ended up going completely insane on me. He was controlling, passive-aggressive and just as our relationship progressed, became unbearable. I broke up with him, blocked his e-mails and texts and decided to stay single, and San Diego was a great place to do that.
I’m a good-looking guy, 6’3’’ with strong arms and big hands, thick black curly hair and blue eyes that drove all the omegas wild. I’m a god in the sheets, and know how to work it, but of course having a dick the size of most guys’ forearms helps a lot too. Some omegas have a hard time taking it, but once they do…
“Yo, Jedrik!” It was Eric’s voice calling from the front of the shop. I immediately made my way to the door and stepped through, knowing that despite my warnings, if I didn’t respond quickly enough, he’d just march into the back with whatever dust and grime was clinging to him, and risk ruining the fresh shellac I’d just laid down.
“What’s up, Eric?” I asked. He was leaning back in the office chair with his feet up on the desk, as I’d told him not to do countless times, so I swatted at them with my hand, sending him clunking down hard as his chair fell forward.
“Shit, man!” he grumbled.
“If I’ve warned you once, I’ve warned you twice,” I grinned. “Now, what’s up?”
“Oh, that sale went through,” he told me, reaching out a fist for me to bump. “The dude’s taking the dresser.”
“Awesome,” I grinned, feeling a sense of pride that I always felt when a client took a piece of furniture I’d built. Normally, I didn’t let people try out pieces in their home before buying—they had to decide at the studio—but this was a wealthy man from Del Mar who’d already taken a bed and a coffee table from me, so I did him a favor. It was a big sale too.
The piece was mid-century modern, simple with nine drawers and vertical slats on each side, with straight legs and a gorgeous flat top finished in garnet shellac and a matte finish varnish. I’d almost been sad to see it go.
“Hell, yeah!” Eric grinned, getting to his feet and raising his hand for a high five. Eric was my assistant in the shop, apprenticing under me, but he also handled the day-to-day business operations so I could focus on my work. A sale for me was like a sale for him in his mind. I slapped his hand and laughed, pleased with how happy he was.
“Thanks, dude,” I told him.
“We are going out tonight!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Hell, yeah,” he smiled. I could see from his eyes that he had something in mind, so I asked him.
“Which bar is it?”
“Oh, it’s not a bar,” he grinned. “Nope!”
“Okay…” I said slowly. “So, what is it?”
“A house,” he replied slowly.
“A house,” I repeated.
“Yup.”
“A house party?”
“Something like that…”
I took a deep breath and eyed my assistant up and down. His shit-eating grin was plastered all over his face and I could see he had something very special in mind.
“Okay, buddy,” I told him. “What the Hell is it?”
“Ever heard of a munchin?” Eric asked me.
“A munchin?” I repeated.
“That’s right.”
“No, Eric,” I replied. “I haven’t heard of a munchin.”
“Well, it’s like a house party,” he explained. “Only everyone is naked and you can basically fuck whoever you want—as long as they want to.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course Eric would be the one to suggest something like this. I wasn’t opposed to get up to some shenanigans from time to time, but compared to the wild shit Eric got up to, I was a Boy Scout.
“That sounds…intense,” I chuckled, trying to picture what he was describing.
“Fucking awesome intense,” he laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. “So, you in? Or do you want to sit around the shop watching the shellac dry?”
I thought about it for a second, going over my options. He was right. I could either sit around and watch my shellac dry and hopefully apply my first coat of varnish, or I could head out with him and at least check out the munchin, if not participate. After all, it had been a while since I’d gotten some nice omega ass wrapped around my dick. His eyes lit up as I nodded.
“Count me in,” I told him.
“Oh, fuck, yeah!” Eric exclaimed.
Chapter Three
Roberto
My heart was pounding as I stared into Chad’s furious face, his finger flailing at me like he was ready to hit me. I felt my panther stir within me, feeling the urge to shift threaten to overwhelm me, but Chad was a human, as were the rest of the workers at Coffee First. Shifting was the last thing I should do.
“Fired!?” Perry was shouting from beside me. “What the Hell are you talking about?”
“You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?” Chad roared, grabbing me by my apron and tearing it from my neck. The instinct to shift and tear him to pieces threatened to take over, but thankfully Perry stepped in between us and put his arms up.
“Hey, back off, Chad!” he cried out as I fought to maintain my cool. “What is this?”
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know!”
“What are you talking about?” I shouted. “Know what!?”
Chad was red faced and raging, his floppy belly swinging as he took a fighting stance in front of me. “You’ve been stealing from the storage!”
“What?” I shouted, unable to believe what I was hearing. That explanation hadn’t even occurred to me. I’d never stolen anything from anyone, and sure as Hell not from my employer. My parents had been criminals. I had sworn to never go down that route, no matter how small the crime. “That’s bullshit, Chad!”
“Oh, I’ve seen you,” Chad grinned angrily, shaking his head. “Snooping around out back. Being sneaky! You think I haven’t noticed!?”
“What are you talking about, Chad?” Perry cried out, still standing between us to keep me from losing my cool and to keep Chad from doing something that would set me off. “He
hasn’t been stealing anything!”
“Yeah? Then where’s all the coffee been going?” he growled.
“I don’t even like our coffee, Chad!” I bellowed. It was true. Coffee First sold some kind of local beans that were supposed to be fancy and flavorful, but they just weren’t for me. In fact, I wasn’t even a coffee fan in general. I drank it from time to time, but Perry was the real coffee drinker between us.
“So you’re selling it then!” Chad raged. “Who gives a fuck what you’re doing with it! You’re taking it!”
“I’m NOT!” I snarled, turning away before I lost control. Despite being an omega, I’d be able to take Chad with ease. He was a human. If I took panther form my teeth would sink through his flesh and tear him apart. But that wasn’t the right way to go. Not by a long shot.
“You can deny it all you want,” Chad snapped. “But you are fired. Both of you!”
“Chad!” Perry protested. “You—you can’t do that!”
“Oh, I can’t?” Chad all but laughed. “I’m the boss! I can do whatever the fuck I want! And right now? I’m tossing you two scam artists out of here!”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Chad already had his back turned to us and was marching towards the screen door that led out to the parking lot. Perry spun around to face me, put both hands on my cheeks and stared into my eyes. They were green like the grass sparkling with morning dew, and as I inhaled his coconut scent, I felt a calm begin to come over me.