Mine, my inner Omega purrs.
Maybe, I tell her.We’ll see how this goes.
Because despite today being a good day, there’s still the quiet echo of worries in my mind, and I’m not sure those will ever go away.
But with how Ivan looks at me, his smile only growing when I step out of the car, it’s possible it won’t matter.
He likes me for me.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs.
That’s the first time he’s ever called me that. “Gorgeous, huh?” I say, trying to act like that nickname doesn’t make my pussy ache.
I took another scent-blocking gummy before the driveandPiper loaned me some extra-strength gum just in case, but I might be beyond their help if I can sense myself already getting wet at his words.
Uh-oh.
“Wasn’t sure if I could call you that at work,” he admits, moving from the wall to take my hand. “And I’ve wanted to do it for a long time.”
His hand is slightly cool to the touch and engulfs mine—and it’s as if we’ve been doing this for years.
His scent swirls around me, and even when we step into the bookstore with other people, it still clings to me like a second skin.
Double uh-oh.
What if we scent match in the middle of the bookstore?
“I’m glad you finally asked me out,” I tease, keeping my voice light. “It was about time. I thought you’d never ask.”
“Bean got in the way,” he admits, squeezing my fingers gently, even as a rush of guilt hits me.
“Because of the sneezing?” I ask carefully.
Was my panic the reason he hasn’t asked me out?
“No,” he chuckles. “It happens with all the cats. They do something adorable and we both get distracted. I wanted to find a time to ask you when we both weren’t covered in cat hair or running around the building. But when I got back today, I realized I was tired of waiting and I was done being a coward about it. I should have asked you out months ago.”
My smile returns, triumphant and steady. “Better late than never,” I say.
“Yeah.” Another squeeze of my hand. “Books and an overpriced cookie, like I promised. Then dinner.”
“Only if I find a book I like.” I grimace. I lead us over to a display of candles and small gifts, humming thoughtfully.
“Those aren’t books, Maeve.”
“Correct. They’re candles,” I say, releasing his hand to sniff a lavender candle. “Much more interesting than your detective novels.”
“Oh, really?” He angles his head toward the sign in front of us. “Is that why mystery is the largest section?”
I shrug. “I can’t help it if the architect of the building made a mistake.”
He laughs, and I end up giggling, too.
“You know, I laugh more with you than I have with anyone else,” I admit quietly. I look up at him, and his dark eyes are soft, staring at my mouth.
“Good,” he murmurs. “I love your laugh.”
I ignore the flutter in my chest at the wordlove.
