Page 52 of Lying Lainey

Left on my own, the space suddenly felt rather large and empty in a way it hadn’t before. A sneeze had me looking down, finding Tater-Tot sitting on the rug in front of the sink. His tongue lolled out of his grinning mouth as he watched me with curiosity.

“Are you going to hang out with me while I make brunch?” I asked.

He let out a soft woof like he’d understood what I said, his butt wiggling since he didn’t really have a tail. Squatting down, I reached out my hand, and he dove for it, thrilled I wanted to give him attention. He behaved himself as he sat between licking the air when my face was too far away for him to reach. This English Bulldog had the typical white fur with red-colored splotches on him, an underbite, and floppy Dorito-shaped ears. His happy snuffles and snorts were the most adorable thing I’d ever heard from a smooshed-faced pup.

“You can stay, but you can’t be underfoot, you hear me?” I told him, wagging a finger at him. He promptly licked it and gave a little yip of agreement. “Okay, go back to the rug and stay there. Be a good boy, and bacon might be in your future.”

It took a little coaxing since he didn’t want me to stop petting him, but once I got him onto the rug and told him to stay, he promptly laid down, kicking out his back legs.

“You good?” I inquired.

My answer was for him to settle his head on his paws and watch me with those warm brown eyes of his. Satisfied, I got to work preheating the oven, then mixing the ingredients for the French toast bake I was going to use the berries with. Then I would move to the quiche since I had to cook the bacon first. Searching for a dish big enough to put the bake into, I spotted a speaker, and upon closer inspection, there was a whole speaker system in the kitchen.

Wandering around the room, I finally found the controls tucked in a cabinet that perfectly hid the thing. If I’d had my real phone, I would have had my cooking playlist, but I didn’t, so I’d have to adjust. There was an MP3 player already plugged in, making me smile at the outdated technology, but in a situation like this, I could see how it made sense. Scrolling through, I found one labeled—Ruth gets shit done. Curious, I looked through the songs and was rather impressed with the selection, so I clicked on Sia’s song, “Unstoppable.”

The music blasted through the speakers sending Tater into a tizzy, scrambling to get away as I hurried to find the volume control. Now at a far more reasonable level, I took a moment to breathe, my heart still racing from the scare. Tater poked his head around the island, looking at me reproachfully.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who left it that way,” I said in my defense. “Whoever used it last must have been nearly deaf for it to be that loud.”

“Actually, that would be my husband, Adem,” a woman said as she entered through the sliding glass door. “He knows I’m really the only one who uses that sound system and likes to think he’s funny with practical jokes like that.”

“How charming of him,” I commented, a little caught off guard at how casually this woman just walked into the house.

“Where are my manners? I’m Ruth, the housekeeper and cook for the guys,” she explained, reaching out a hand to me.

Now I felt like an absolute asshole for having any negative thoughts toward her. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m borrowing your kitchen.”

“Not at all, borrow away. It’s your house now too,” Ruth assured me, but her off-handed comment had me biting my tongue.

Of course, she would assume I would now be living here. I was scent-paired to all three men, so it was logical. No one in their right mind would turn down the chance to live with three sexy millionaires who wanted to pamper their Omega in their private mansion.

“Don’t tell me those guys were so helpless they asked you to cook and didn’t even bother to help,” Ruth demanded, all but growling in her indignation.

I couldn’t help it and burst out laughing. “Oh my God, if you only knew what it took for them to let me do this, you’d understand why I’m laughing. No, they most certainly did not ask me to cook, and I sent them on their way so I could work in peace.”

“Oh…” Ruth answered, looking a little chagrined. “Here I am barging into your personal time, throwing around wild accusations and ruining it for you.”

“It’s fine, really,” I assured her. “If I’m being honest, it’s nice to have a little estrogen around right about now. Heats are intense, and they were amazing—”

“Yup, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Ruth cut in, holding out a hand, waving it frantically. “I don’t need to know any of the details, thank you very much. There’s no way I’d be able to look them in the eye without dying of embarrassment if I knew about their…” she paused, “… um… intimate lives?” She finished, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Don’t worry, I won’t spill any juicy secrets with you. I just was going to say they were amazingly supportive,” I told her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to keep working on this so we can eat sooner rather than later. My stomach is trying to eat itself, and I’ve been trying to tide it over by eating some of the shredded cheese.”

“No, no, go on. I was simply popping by to make sure there was still enough food ready to go in the fridge. Now that your heat broke and you’re taking care of this meal, then I’ll just have to worry about dinner. I asked the guys if you had any food allergies, but they weren’t really sure of the answer. Only reason I ask is so I don’t make meals you can’t eat or have something in the house that will kill you,” she explained.

Dumping the bread chunks into the baking dish, I spread them out evenly. “Nope, no food allergies, and I’m definitely not a picky eater. Although if I had a preference, fish isn’t my favorite thing in the world,” I admitted and was surprised to feel like that was really true for me.

“Not a problem. Quintin is allergic to salmon, so I don’t make fish in general. How do you feel about shrimp?”

“Shrimp I love… nothing better than a good shrimp scampi,” I answered instantly.

Ruth grinned at me as she leaned against the counter. “Well, what do you know… that happens to be Halstead’s favorite food. I mean, that man would devour anything in the Italian food category, but that is by far his top choice.”

“He is a man of refined taste. After all, I shouldn’t be surprised,” I said in a dramatic, nasally voice that had us both grinning.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair and let you finish. If you need anything, though, my number is on the neon yellow Post-it on the fridge. My husbands and I live in the coach house, so I’m pretty much always around. See you at dinner time,” Ruth called as she pulled the sliding door open, waved her goodbye, and left.

Tater lifted his head to look over his shoulder at her exit but made no effort to move. He’d practically ignored Ruth ever being in the kitchen. Was that what Kerian had meant when he said Tater-Tot didn’t have much interest in people? Either way, I was going to take it as a win and assume I’d earned his approval. Why that was important, I don’t know, but it was for some reason.