Tasting His Omega

by Lorelei M. Hart

  Maybe Harrison could ignite the spark—again.

  Chapter Six

  Harrison

  Six weeks later...

  Two pink lines.

  I was staring at two pink lines.

  How the hell had that happened.

  I mean, theoretically, I knew condoms only worked 99 percent of the time, but in practice, those little buggers were supposed to stop the soldiers from reaching ground zero. Except, the one Lucas and I used hadn’t.

  And then there was the me sneaking out in the middle of the night, not wanting to deal with the morning-after awkward, followed by me not actually returning his texts. Not that he tried hard, but still. I was rude as could be, and now—now I was pregnant.

  I called up the doctor and made an appointment. I wasn’t even sure what they did this early in a pregnancy, but it felt like the thing to do. I wished my grandpa was around to talk to. He’d have some guidance for me.

  My mom had died in childbirth, and that was another thing weighing on me. What if I was like her and just couldn’t handle the birth? What if my heart gave out, too? Unlike my mother, I didn’t have anyone who could take my sweet baby in if something happened to me. It only added to my nerves that the doctor fit me in same day. Even I knew that wasn’t normal, not unless you had the flu or something.

  Just as I was about to drown myself in what-ifs, my phone rang.

  “Harrison Woodworking.” I pulled out my best professional voice, not wanting my anxious tone to impact the call.

  “Hello, Harrison. It’s Vivian.” I loved Vivian. She was one of my best local customers and always left me in stitches. She had also been my mother’s best friend.

  “Everything working out with those cradles?” She’d had me repair an antique one she had and then duplicate it for her grand-twins. For fun, I made a few others, and they sold pretty much right away.

  “Absolutely.”

  I could hear her pen tapping in the background. “You do amazing work. I was calling for another project. Do you think you could stop by the shop?” Her florist shop was stunning, like walking into a little English garden.

  “Sure. I’m going to town this afternoon for an appointment. I can stop by along the way.”

  “Excellent,” she squealed before hanging up, not even waiting to find out what time. That was Vivian.

  I looked at the time stamp of the call. It was already lunchtime. I grabbed my keys, deciding to grab a burger at The Diner before visiting Vivian and heading off to the doctor’s. Keeping busy would keep me from focusing too hard on the doctor’s appointment.

  The Diner was bustling when I got there, which was unusual. I grabbed a seat at the counter and ordered my burger.

  “Pretty exciting, isn’t it?” I looked to my left to find Mr. Johanson, an old friend of my grandfather’s sitting there dunking some of The Diner’s famous cookies into a tall glass of milk.

  “What is, Mr. J?” I whispered back, all conspiratorial, mimicking the way he’d asked the original question.

  “The television folks buying up the Greek place for that new cooking show.”

  “I hadn’t heard.” Not that I was one for town gossip.

  The restaurant had become all but a catering hall in recent years so, in that respect, it was good. Looking around all the unfamiliar faces, I thought it might be good for the local economy, too.

  “It’s true. That chef, the one on Cooking Central is head of it. It’s going to be like one of those reality shows.” He continued on and on as I half listened, waiting for my burger to arrive.

  When it did, I scarfed it down. I’d always thought people puked their entire first trimester. Maybe that was why I had gone almost three months, clueless. I hadn’t been sick at all. I’d been hungry—for meat.

  As I left the diner, I decided to walk across the way to Vivian’s instead of taking my truck. It was a gorgeous day, brisk but sunny, and I gravitated toward the outdoors anyway.

  I walked into her shop to find vases all over the floor.

  “There you are.” She rushed over to me. “Just the man I needed to see. As you can probably gather, I have problems.”

  “All the vases,” I guessed. Holy cow, there was a plethora of them.

  “Yes, the vases are having vase babies, I think, because I have nowhere to put them.”

  When she said the word babies, I thought back to that stupid stick, the one I peed on, the one that changed the entire trajectory of my life.

  “That’s where you come—what’s wrong?” She rested her hand on my arm.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t you lie to me, young man. I was the one who taught your grandpappy how to diaper your bum. Now, fess up.”

  I just stood there, unsure of what to say, as tears welled in my eyes. She wrapped her arms around me.

  “You said babies,” I whispered.

  “And?” She rubbed small circles on my back.

  “I’m pregnant.” It sounded so official, somehow more real when spoken out loud. I was pregnant. I was going to be a dad.

  She pulled back, looking me in the face.

  “This is not happy news?” She was feeling me out, unsure where I stood. Which was fair since, in many ways, so was I.

  “No, it is.” Babies were always good news. “It’s just unexpected.”

  “And you’re scared because of your mama.” She got it in one.

  “That.”

  “When is your appointment?” She took and squeezed my hand. Vivian was good people.

  “Four.” Or two hours thirty-seven minutes away. But who was counting?

  “What day?”

  “Today.”

  “Perfect.” She clapped her hands together with one loud thud. “Let me distract you with my silly ideas for new shelving, and then I’ll take you to your appointment.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” But I was glad she was going to.

  “Your mama was my best friend. Of course I do. Now, grab that clipboard. We have things to plan.”

  We spent the next two hours planning a new set of built-in shelves that blended with her current vibe before heading off to the doctor’s. I got to fill out four thousand pages of paperwork before finally being called back, Vivian by my side. They had me pee in a cup and took my vitals before going in to wait for the doc, telling me not to undress for this visit, which was nice since I had the equivalent of my aunt sitting at my side.

  When there was a knock at the door and the doctor entered, panic truly kicked in.

  “Nice to see you, Harrison. It’s been a while.” Dr. Simmons had been my doctor forever. Heck, he was everyone’s doctor. I’d probably need a specialist at some point, but familiarity felt right when deciding who to call, so I went with it.

  “Since I had the flu.” Which was made of evil.

  “According to our test, you are pregnant. How did that happen?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Vivian decided to use the question as a way to brush up on her stand-up routine. “Well, doctor, when an omega and an alpha…”

  “You are too funny, Vivian.” No. No she wasn’t. “How are those grandbabies of yours doing?”

  “They are perfect.” That was the least she had ever said about those twins—ever. She must’ve been half as worried as I was, which was still a butt ton.

  “Anyway, Harrison, what I meant was, were you on any kinds of birth control?”

  “No, we used a condom.” Not correctly, apparently, but I rolled it on myself, so that was all on me.

  “Excellent.” He tapped his pen on the clipboard, far too happy about our condom fail.

  “Why excellent? It didn’t work.”

  “No, but we don’t have to worry about side effects or removing an implant.”

  I hadn’t even thought about that. I was only not on any medical intervention because I pretty much didn’t ever have an alpha, so condoms worked for when I scratched an itch.

  “The nurse has a date of conception. How sure
are you of that?”

  “Positive.” Unless I was eleven months pregnant, which I probably would’ve noticed by then.

  “Excellent.” He set his clipboard down and opened a drawer then pulled out a small wand. “That means we can have heartbeat time. Lie back.” I did as he said and pulled up my shirt when directed. my belly was still as flat as normal. He put some gel on the wand and rubbed it over my lower abdomen, stopping when a thudding came through the little speaker. “There it is. Perfect.”

  We listened for about a minute before he turned the doppler off and wiped the gel from my belly. I sat up.

  “Well everything looks great from my end. Any questions?”

  I froze. Fear took over, and I pushed down all the questions I wanted to ask, terrified of their answers.

  “No. Thanks, Doctor.”

  “I have one.” Vivian raised her hand like in school, and the doctor gave me a questioning look. I nodded in reply.

  “Harrison here is worried about having a similar birth experience to his mother.”

  “He need not worry.” He spoke to Vivian, but his eyes were on me. Dr. Simmons had known my mother. He’d mentioned it a few times over the years. Hearing him tell me not to worry as opposed to “let’s do all the tests” gave me confidence, confidence that grew as he continued to speak. “Her heart went out from damage caused by an infection in her youth. It was not genetic. Rest assured.”

  I was going to be okay. I was going to get to watch my little peanut grow up. He was not going to be alone. Life. Was. Good.

  Chapter Seven

  Lucas

  Turns out, Mapleville is such a tiny place that there isn’t an airport within a four-hour driving distance, so that’s what Warren and I did.

  After renting a car, we packed everything up, including the boxes of items from Harrison’s shop, and headed toward him—I mean Mapleville—to scope out the location.

  The producers at the studio had taken weeks to consider my ultimatum to shoot in Mapleville or else. I’m sure they wanted to teach the spoiled brat, being me, a lesson about giving rich producers a threat, but, ultimately, they decided to indulge me.

  The GPS woman was driving me absolutely insane three hours later. I’d turned into one of those people who, instead of asking “Are we there yet?” constantly looked at the estimated time of arrival on the screen of Warren’s phone.

  Be cool, Lucas. Be cool.

  I’d spent the last two weeks rehashing the night Harrison and I spent together in my mind. I couldn’t think of anything I’d done wrong, though I wasn’t always one to catch my own mistakes. Warren usually did that.

  Still, I stalked his website day after day to see what new creations he worked on. He updated his website and Instagram account several times a day, but it wasn’t him taking the pictures. These weren’t selfies. Someone took pictures of him working, sanding, polishing, and all the other things Harrison did, including having a burger for lunch, and posted them on Instagram, which automatically updated his online diary.

  It was like looking into his life from far away.

  Except who was taking his pictures? Was it his alpha? His mate? Maybe the reason he snuck out and never returned my calls was because he was cheating on that person.

  No, that couldn’t be. Harrison didn’t strike me as the cheating type. He was old school through and through. Still, the thought twisted my stomach.

  “What’s he up to today?” Warren asked, tapping the screen of my phone as I scrolled through Harrison’s IG account.

  “The pictures have changed. They used to have him working on something, and now it’s just his hands or his chest while he holds something up.”

  “Maybe he shaved the beard and isn’t ready to reveal his new look.” Warren shrugged, and I almost punched him in the chest for suggesting such a thing.

  “He wouldn’t do that. It’s part of him.”

  “Finally, a turn.” Warren followed the woman’s directions and made a right onto a similar road that looked like it led to nothing and nowhere.

  I glanced at the GPS again, and we had about forty-five minutes to go. I closed my eyes to try and get in a nap. The next thing I knew, Warren was tapping me on my shoulder.

  I hate when people tap my shoulder.

  “I’m awake. What?”

  “We’re here, apparently. Whoever took those pictures didn’t do it justice. Lucas, look.”

  I scooted up in the seat and shielded my eyes from the sun while I took in Mapleville. Every building was painted a bright color, not neon, but crisp hues. The streets were clean, and even the garbage cans and recycling bins were green and well-kept.

  “Look, Lucas.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I am looking, Warren.”

  “No, Lucas...look.” He pointed to the other side of the street, and my heart absolutely stopped. Harrison walked down the street with a woman with red hair. They stopped in a hardware store, and he opened the door for her. He wore a bulky jacket, but the beard was still intact. He looked happy.

  “Let’s go find the hotel…” Warren’s voice tapered off at the end. He probably thought I would jump out of the car and run after Harrison.

  I wanted to, but it just wasn’t the kind of guy I was—especially if he was dating another man.

  A part of me wanted to corner him in the hardware store and demand to know everything from the time he left me to the present.

  And the whys.

  “Yeah, hotel. Then let’s check out that diner. It looks promising.”

  “You got it.”

  We got to the one hotel in town and checked in. The room was homey, not like the starched emptiness of regular hotel rooms. I changed into a warmer sweater before meeting Warren in the hallway.

  “Ready?” I asked, not really liking the fact I had to go somewhere to eat rather than cook for myself like I usually did on trips.

  “Sure.”

  Warren seemed more excited than me. We walked the couple of blocks to The Diner, because, apparently, they named things their noun in small towns, and walked in.

  “Have a seat wherever, gentlemen. Karyn will be right with you.”

  A woman named Karyn set down two glasses of water before spewing out the specials. Down-home cooking. Maybe that’s why Harrison enjoyed the meatloaf so much. It reminded him of home.

  “Bring us one of each of your specials, Karyn. Thank you.” My mother once told me to always use a server’s name when speaking to them. It made them feel like the exchange was between friends, and they would serve you well.

  “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

  “It’s so nice here, Lucas. Look at the church.”

  I was leaning toward the window to look at said church when a shadow covered my view. I blinked several times and then looked up to see who blocked my view.

  And there, outside the window of this quaint diner, looking in, looking straight at me, was Harrison.

  From the look on his face, he didn’t know what to do next any more than I did.

  Chapter Eight

  Harrison

  Leaving the doctor’s appointment was a mix of relief over knowing giving birth to my beautiful baby was not a death sentence, joy over knowing said baby was growing perfectly, and anxiety over how to handle juggling my career and raising a child all alone.

  And, of course, in order to keep myself from texting Lucas and starting something that could never be, I had erased his number from my contacts that first week. Shit, I hadn’t even gotten his last name, and I was pretty sure looking up culinary school graduates with the first name Lucas wasn’t a fruitful option. I’d have to figure that hot mess out later.

  I sent a quick text to Maria at the out-of-town convenience store as Vivian got back in her car and drove away. I’d donated to quite a few fundraisers for her single parents group and their new center, but never once had it crossed my mind she might someday be a source of new-dad support. We set up a time to meet for coffee, or, in my case peppermint tea, thanks
to the list of limit this and that the doctor had given me.

  As I meandered to my truck, I thought about snagging some cookies to go from The Diner, which from the looks of the parking lot, was packed. Maybe I’d just have Jaxon run out and get me some later.

  When Vivian had begged me to take him on a few weeks ago as an errand runner and all-around assistant, I’d been torn. I knew that when Jaxon slinked back to town, broke, Henry was at a loss of what to do with his son, but I enjoyed the solitude that was my craft. I’d agreed as a temporary thing, but he turned out to be more of an asset than I had imagined a down-and-out spoilt brat could be, so I was glad to have him onboard—even if he drove me bonkers half the time.

  I looked in the window of The Diner to see how many people there actually were and, true to my original assessment, there were a butt ton, but that wasn’t what kept me staring inside. No, what froze me in place was Lucas, or as my stupid dream self often called him my Lucas. He was in the diner with a hot man. Of course he had a date, or, worse, a mate. He was too amazing to be alone.

  I just stood there like a deer caught in the headlights as the hot man whispered in his ear, laughed then smacked him playfully on the shoulder. The entire time, Lucas’s eyes focused on mine. He stood and started for the door, and my fight or flight kicked in, my legs moving me swiftly to my truck, focusing on the flight option.

  “Hey, Harrison.” Mrs. Fredericks surprised me, causing me to jump back a little bit. I actually felt relief at the interruption. Leaving, as had been my gut response, was not going to accomplish anything and stopping to talk to her would give me a bit of time to compose myself.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I was just wondering if you had any more of those cradles like the one you donated to the school auction last month. I have a grandbaby coming.”

  “Congratulations.” I hugged her because with Mrs. Fredericks, hugs weren’t optional. Ever. “I don’t have one, but I can make one.”