Page 170 of Wild Little Omega

I burst into laughter at his joke. Loud, embarrassing laughter that's way more enthusiastic than the joke called for. Mortified, I slap my hands over my mouth and wish again for that trap door in the ground.

"It's complicated," I tell him, my blush spreading even as his eyes dance with mirth and his grin widens. "Everything about this is complicated."

"Well, if you need some help planning a few mortality-themed complicated cocktails, I'm your man." He winks at me, and somehow it comes across as charming instead of slimy. Probably because of the handsomeness. "I'm Finn Barber, by the way—you are?"

"Delilah." I wince at the sound of my own name, and at the flash of recognition that slides across his face in response to it. "Yep,thatDelilah. And the wake is for?—"

"Your father. Oh shit." He pushes his hair back from his face, though it still slides forward to flop in his forehead, a tiny flaw in his exquisitely handsome exterior. "I'm so—wait. I won't say that. Since you said it's complicated."

Relief fills me. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"It's just—I never know how to respond when people say that." Staring into the cart, I admit, "I probably got too many bottles. It'll take forever to put them back. I hate just leaving them anywhere—when I worked retail, customers like that drove me crazy."

"No worries. I'll just—ah, yes, that one." Reaching into the cart, he nabs the big bottle of cheap vodka I threw in on a whim, and gives me a winsome smile that makes me feel like a teenage girl again. "That's just what I was looking for, anyway. No need to put it back on the shelf."

I smile back at him, feeling a little less like a crazy lady, and even more like I should get the hell out of Juniper before I lose my panties in some kind of panties-melting hot-werewolf-men related accident.

"I should probably go," I tell Finn.

"Of course."

"See you around?"

I don't mean to word it like a question, but it comes out like one.

"Oh, I'll be seeing you again for sure, Delilah." The look in his eyes should scorch metal; it nearly melts me. "That much I know."

I'm so unbelievably flustered by his words that I nearly dart out of the store without paying. Thankfully by the time I'm through the register, he's somewhere on the other side of one of the aisles. Because I get the sense that if he looks at me for one more second, talking to me in that voice, I'll explode into a thousand pieces.

All that'll be left is a scorch mark on the ground.

Here lies Delilah. She got so turned on it straight-up killed her.