Jericho lifts a hand in a wave, but the man from the fancy sports car just cocks his head as they make their way toward me. He’s sizing me up, I think. Trying to decide if I’m going to be easy to work with.
Well, as long as he stays out of my way and treats my men with respect, we’ll work just fine. Even better if he actually knows what he’s doing.
“Glenn! Good to see you,” Jericho says jovially as he stops in front of me. He’s at least twenty years older than me, and I like the guy. Since working for Timberwood, I’ve come to appreciate his no-nonsense approach to work. The other guy, though, I’m not sure about him. He looks a little young, delicate almost.
And pretty.
My nose twitches, and something sweet hits my senses. Something familiar.
“Damn, you smell that?” Fisher whispers to someone behind me. “Fucking weird.”
I ignore him and keep my gaze on Jericho. But Fisher is right. The scent hitting my nostrils is different, and part of me is screaming that I know it, that the base is something I’ve smelled before, but I can’t put my finger on it.
It niggles at the back of my mind, and I shift on my feet. What is that from?
Fuck, I hate this.
“Glenn, I want to introduce you to the new superintendent on this project. Straight from Fuirfield. This is Arbor Wren.”
I stare down at the man beside Jericho and reluctantly hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Arthur.”
The man bristles, his lips turning down slightly. “Arbor. Not Arthur.”
My lips twitch. “Ah, right. Arbor. My apologies.”
He hesitates a moment and then adds, “You can call me Mr. Wren.”
My tongue presses against the inside of my cheek. “Got it.”
Jericho sighs as Arbor shakes my hand, and I feel the soft skin hit my calluses. How the fuck do I know this guy? I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m sure it will come to me after I’ve left work for the day. Always happens that way.
“Well, Arbor, this is the site supervisor, Glenn Barrett.”
“Mr. Barrett. Nice to meet you.”
His hand slips from mine, and he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair, and all the breath leaves my body.
What the fuck?
Two different eyes—one blue, one gray. Just like my omega from the woods.
He glowers at me as I continue to stare, unable to really process any of this. How did I not smell him right away? How did I not notice this was him? Perhaps it’s repression, trying to keep the thought of my missing omega from my mind, the scent of him, the feeling of how well he took me.
He stiffens at the way I’m gaping. “Yes, I know my eyes are two different colors. Can you stop looking at me like that?”
I clear my throat and try to glance away, but I can’t. Not really. “Right. Sorry.”
“Seriously? Look away,” he hisses. “Is it because I’m an omega on a construction site?”
His voice is laced with frustration, and I’m left to just blink at him in disbelief. I didn’t even consider his being an omega. My youngest brother, Skye, is one, and he’s always struggled withothers not taking him seriously. I have nothing against an omega in a position of power over me. That’s not why I’m looking.
No, I’m looking because I’ve had him—intimately, messily—more than once.
My first man. The one from the woods, the one I chased and fucked right into the mud.
The one I went feral over for the first time in my life.
“Gods,” he huffs and then turns to Jericho, that familiar scent turning from a sweet pear to a bitter cinnamon. “Are you sure this is where you want me working for the next several months?”
