The restaurant, by all accounts, was doing well. There were the locals who went for fancy meals, most of whom refused to sign contracts and were therefore cut from the show, but there were also out-of-towners. Generally, they were the people who wanted their five minutes of fame on television or to meet Lucas. At first, the town wasn’t in love with that crowd, but they brought a lot of money into an otherwise stagnant town, and we’d even seen housing prices going up a tad.
In the beginning, I had helped around the “set,” but the producers thought my work was too good and wanted props, not quality woodworking, for I had no idea what reason. Lucas thought it was because they planned to strip the entire thing down before moving on when the show’s ratings faltered.
“I did, too,” I answered in reply to Jaxon’s asking about the season being over. “But I guess ‘wrapping up’ is a fancy way of saying everyone needs to have a thousand meetings halfway across the country while your omega is about to pop.” I might’ve been a bit bitter about them taking my alpha away from me this close to the end of my pregnancy.
“You have another month, Papa.” He patted my head, laughing at what I was sure he thought was funny. “No need to rush things.”
“Says the man without a baby in his belly.”
“Says the man who doesn’t want to end up being the one coaching you while you push her out.” Yeah that most definitely went outside his role as assistant.
“Fair enough.”
I waddled out of the workshop and into the house, Jaxon close behind me. He hadn’t been so puppy dog-like since he first started working for me under his father’s warning that if he fucked up he was going to be homeless. Not that Henry would have followed through.
“So, does he know?” Jaxon took a seat at the breakfast bar as I put the kettle on the stove. Only a month and I could go back to my coffee. Not that I was counting.
“Know?” He’d lost me somewhere.
“Do you really think my mom can keep a secret?” Jaxon arched his eyebrows, and understanding slammed into me.
Vivian told him about my surprise wedding. I’d known from the first week of our marriage that Lucas wanted the real thing. And, in most ways, we acted real from that first day, and over the course of the past few months, we’d not only found a way to sync our very different lives, but fell deeper and deeper in love with each other as we did so.
It was time to make a gesture. One that wasn’t about babies or the media. One that was just me telling showing him that he was my everything. And I couldn’t think of any better way to do that than a surprise wedding.
“I only asked her for a quote, and I thought it was like a client confidentiality thing or something.”
“You asked her about decorating the church with flowers, not where to hide the body. That’s hardly confidential.” He tapped the side of his head as if he’d just cracked a case, not logicked out Vivian’s brand of nosey.
“Then, no.” I let out a sigh as I grabbed two cups, to which Jaxon shook his head and I put one back. No tea for him. “He doesn’t know, and I’m not sure I can even make it work.”
“What still needs doing?” He grabbed the cookie jar, scooching it closer before peering inside, finding something to his liking, helping himself to one of the last of what I called my wooing cookies.
Wooing because Lucas had made them to woo me, and because it made him crack up every time I referred to them as such. I was sad when I pulled the last package out of the freezer. Not that he wouldn’t make more if I asked. He’d made plenty since then, but these were special.
“Everything,” I confessed. I’d barely started planning it when I got overwhelmed and gave up. “I was just putting out feelers. I just know it would mean a lot to Lucas to have a bigger wedding.”
“And you, too?” he asked around a mouthful of cookie.
“And maybe me, too.” I couldn’t help myself and rolled my eyes.
“When does he come back?”
“Two days.” Eternity.
“Leave it to me.” He pulled out his phone and began typing away. I didn’t even bother to try and stop him. Once he got like this, he was going full steam ahead.
“You do not need to plan my wedding,” I said for good measure, not even trying to add any ounce of persuasion in. I just needed it to be said.
“I won’t do it alone, and you are growing a human.” He pointed to my belly just as the kettle whistled. I turned off the stove and poured my tea, grabbing one of the cookies for myself.
“Nothing over the top?” I’d heard about his parties back in New Orleans, or at least the ones that happened at his place while he was I didn’t even know where. Jaxon could over the top, of that I was sure.
“Everything over the top.” He tapped into his phone again. I tried to get a glance, and he held it at just the correct angle to thwart my efforts. “Do you have a suit?”
“A few, but none that will fit around Luca.” I was down to two pairs of pants, some ginormous T-shirts, and that was pretty much that.
“I’ll take care of that, too.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “Warren and I were planning to go to the city tomorrow, anyway.”
“Warren?” I made a kissy face because I was pregnant and bored and riling Jaxon up was fun.
“Do not even say it like that.” Jaxon protested just a little too much. “He needs Henry’s truck is all.”
“If that’s your story.”
“That’s the truth.” He put the lid back on the cookie jar and climbed off of his perch before slipping his phone in his pocket. “Now go—sleep—grow a human. Vivian is bringing dinner tonight. Her famous lasagna.”
“She doesn’t have to take care of me.” Not that anyone stopped Vivian once she got a notion in her head.
“She kind of does.” He squished his face before schooling it. “Lucas made her promise.”
Of. Course. He. Did. Overprotective alpha. Mine.
“Go—make wedding magic happen, and thanks.”
“You took me in when no one else would have thought to. No need to thank me for trying to pay you back.”
“It’s been good for both of us.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“That it has.” He smiled back before heading out the door.
I grabbed my tea and waddled into the bedroom before climbing into bed. I’d probably read a little bit, but the rest would do me good.
My phone blew up. How I ever convinced Lucas to give me a phone that could do more than my computer, I’d never figure out. I grabbed it, intending to turn it off when another notification binged:
Season two of Cooking Live location selected: Bar Harbor, Maine
Fuck. Lucas was moving to Maine which meant I was moving with him or I was alone again.
Neither sounded ideal to me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lucas
The thing about being famous is the fame is only temporary. It can be gone in the blink of an eye.
Apparently, it’s frowned upon when you scream and throw things in the office of the executive producer of a show you’re supposed to host—which is exactly what I’d done when they announced that the show would be moving to Maine instead of Mapleville.
The bastards.
I got home a little before midnight. Instead of having anyone pick me up, I rented a car and drove myself home to my omega. There was nothing I needed more than to wrap my little family in my arms.
I unlocked the door as quietly as possible and tiptoed to the bedroom, but found the light on and Harrison flitting about with dozens of boxes around him. Tears streamed down his face, and he looked completely worn down.
“What is happening, Harrison? Stop.” I crossed the room and folded him into a bear hug, making him stop what looked like packing up clothes.
He pushed me away with little force and violently swiped the tears from his face. “I packed most of your things first, since I didn’t know…you know. I checked, and there’s a flight out tomorrow. I mean, you’re going to be busy ge
tting ready. Don’t worry about anything here. If you leave anything, you know, other than us, I will ship it to you.” I let him ramble on for another minute, hoping that if he got it all out of his system, he would be empty to listen to me.
“Are you done?” I asked, trying like hell not to be perturbed, and failing. All this trust and love we’d built up, brick upon brick, and here it was, crumbling down because he’d presumed I was leaving him.
“I’m done for now. I need to tape these boxes and…”
“Can you stop, please?” The aggravation in my voice clung to the air.
“What? Aren’t you in a hurry to get out of here?”
The tears cranked up again, full force. He collapsed onto the bed, sitting and holding his face in his hands.
“You saw the new restaurant location.”
He nodded.
“And they named me the host.”
Another nod.
“And you assumed I was just like your father and would just pack up and leave you, my husband, who is carrying our child, for some cooking show in Maine. Because that’s the kind of asshole I am.”
“Yes,” he whimpered. He didn’t really mean it. I knew that deep down. We had a connection that surpassed all of this. “No, Lucas. I knew you wouldn’t leave us. But I would leave with you if you wanted me to, if you wanted us to. I would go just to be with you—anywhere.”
“Come here,” I begged, opening my arms, desperate to feel his touch.
“I wasn’t thinking, Lucas. I just heard the news and came unglued. Can we chalk this up to pregnancy hormones or pregnancy brain or something?” He didn’t move from his place on the bed, and it killed me to have him so far away.
“We can blame it on whatever you want to.” I moved to sit next to him. He leaned against my side. “I came home to tell you that I told them to stick that show up their asses. My family is more important. I’m not going anywhere.”
That started a whole new waterfall.
“Harrison, take your shirt off.” I got up from the bed and moved every box to the living room, out of his sight. I pulled down the covers as he slowly got up and took off his shirt, revealing the most beautiful pregnant belly. “Come on. Get in. I need to feel your skin on mine, and I think you do, too.”
He nodded, pitiful as all get out, and shucked his pants, too. I had already removed my shirt and gotten into the bed. He turned to me, but our baby was in the way of us really snuggling. “Turn to your left. You’re supposed to be lying on your left side anyway.” He turned, and I nestled against his back, one arm under his head and the other hand rubbing circles on his stomach. I whispered to him for about twenty minutes, all the things I wanted him to know. I loved him. There was no other male for me in the world. I was grateful that he held my babe so safe and warm in his belly. I would never leave him. Everything was going to be okay. After that, he softly snored. I covered him with a blanket and smiled as he held his stomach while he slept.
Good omega. Making sure the babe is safe.
I had intended to make some meals for the freezer since I wasn’t sleepy at all, but as much as I tried to protest, my eyes closed for me, and I fell into a deep sleep next to my omega.
Some hours later, I woke up with Harrison’s mouth on mine and his hand cupping my sac. “Wake up, husband. I need you.”
The man was insatiable.
“You taste like lasagna.”
He grinned and looked down on me. “I woke up, peed, ate lasagna, got heartburn, drank some ginger tea, peed again, and now...well, you can guess what I am now.”
I laughed and pulled him closer, sucking gently on his tender nipples one by one, loving to hear him gasp. “That pretty much outlines your entire pregnant life.”
“You’re not exactly complaining.”
Before I could catch my breath, his full lips were wrapped around my cock, his tongue making swirls around the tip, driving me mad.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Harrison
When Lucas came home to me—so much clarity broke through the haze of despair I’d been looking through.
I’d already decided that we would go with him. He was mine. End of story.
That didn’t make anything I said or did rational. I was a hot mess of emotions. I blamed the pregnancy for a lot of it, but far from all of it. I had somehow managed to let this man fully into my heart, and just the thought he might not want to be there broke me.
But my fears were for naught.
He wanted me.
All of me.
He wanted pregnant crazy me, bearded woodworker me, pop culture-unaware me, and Mapleville resident me. He chose me—us—and turned down the television show without hesitation.
I asked him numerous times if he would regret it, and he reassured me the only thing he would regret would be forcing me to leave the place I loved, the place that held my roots, to chase a dream that was no longer his. He already had Warren working on buying the restaurant, the one he wanted to make a real restaurant where people from town would come, eat, and socialize, one where he could cook the things he loved and not be worried about the next big thing. The one that was close to his family. To us.
And that was why I kept waking up. I wanted to tell him all about the surprise wedding, but each time I got up, he was sleeping so peacefully I didn’t have the heart to wake him, and then of course I had to pee by the third time I woke. Go, baby on the bladder, which led to a snack then tea then my mouth around his cock. So things had turned out well.
“Harrison,” Lucas groaned my name as I swallowed around him.
“Hmmm, mmm?” I mumbled, never letting his cock leave my mouth, peeking up at him from under my hooded lids.
“What are you doing?” he asked, knowing darn well what I was doing. I just gave him a look and continued with my ministrations. “What I mean”—his hand fell to my head, grasping my hair in just the way I liked—“is I won’t be able to knot you.”
And just like that, he won. He’d been so nervous about my being so far along and pregnant that he was into all things not knotting lately, and while I loved a good blow job and some frotting just as much as the next guy, I longed for his knot. Silly alpha had read that sex helped jumpstart labor and was sure he’d bring the baby too soon. Now was not too soon, though, and even if it was, that was an old wives’ tale, and we needed this.
Badly.
“Come up here, Harrison,” he pleaded and I crawled up to him. “I missed you so much. Kiss me.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I pushed all of my emotions into that kiss, needing him to know exactly how I felt about him—about us. He was mine. And while I was glad we would be building our life in Mapleville, I’d have followed him to the ends of the Earth if that was what he needed.
That realization was what told me he was my always, or at least solidified what I already knew in my gut. I loved Mapleville, the place, the people, the culture, but not as much as I loved Lucas. Lucas was my future and my home. The rest was all just noise.
His hand reached down and he broke our kiss with a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I asked once I caught my breath.
“Our precious baby just kicked my hand away from your cock.” Of course she did.
I just shook my head, laughing as well.
“What do you think? Grounding?” I asked.
“No playdates for at least two weeks,” Lucas spoke firmly, waggling his finger at my belly.
“Is that a real thing? Playdates? I assumed it was a joke.”
“Nope. Real,” he insisted, and who was I to argue. I was ready for us to get back to business.
“So, I’m huge.”
“You’re growing a human.” He completely missed my point.
I wouldn’t change an inch of my girth. Each and every ounce I’d gained was to provide for our child. Each stretch mark a sign my body was changing to make her comfortable and safe. No, I liked me as I was.
“Not my point. My point is, I’m bigge
r than the last time you gave me your knot, and I’m wondering how best to do this.” Because there was no way I could manage to be on my hands and knees with my belly like this, and no way he could get things where they needed to be in missionary position.
“You’re thinking too hard.” He tapped my nose with a wink of mischief. “Let it happen.”
“Says Mr. Always Prepared.” And that was when the glimmer in his eye caught me. He was prepared. Why did I think he’d be anything but? I arched my eyebrow at him.
“Fine,” he sighed with fake exasperation. “By let it happen, I mean I googled this.”
“How romantic.” I reached down, finding his cock with my fingers, barely able to reach it, thanks to my belly in the way. “Now, do me.”
“The romance is flowing tonight.” He chuckled before kissing me soundly and leaving me breathless. “So, over on your side.” He helped me roll so I faced away from him, and I would’ve whimpered about it if he hadn’t snuggled up next to me immediately, his erection settling against my ass. “Like that,” he praised.
“I like where this is going—”
His hand wrapped around my cock, giving it a couple of good pumps before tracing the tip with his finger.
“I like where this is at,” I corrected.
“Oh my. Your poor cock is so hard,” he sassed. I liked him all playful like this. “I think you need to come.”
Yes. Yes I did.
“And I will when you knot me.”
“Impatient omega.” He tsked, not slowing his attention on my erection any.
“It’s been weeks.” It came out as a moan, thanks to the change in pressure of his hand. Damn, he knew what he was doing.
“Two,” he corrected. “It’s been two weeks and not a day between orgasms except when I was away.”
That part was true. He made sure I came and I him. But there was something intimate about knotting that we couldn’t quite manage any other way, as enjoyable as those ways were.
Tasting His Omega Page 8