Page 48 of Knot His Beast
“She’s very clean,” I reassure him, climbing into the truck. I wait patiently as I stroke Bella’s soft head, my brow raised as I wait for Tav to settle into his seat. “I watched her get a bath. That’s why she’s wrapped up in the towel.”
“Okay,” Tav grumbles, pulling on his seatbelt. He looks highly uncomfortable as he takes Bella, who struggles not to wiggle as if she can feel his discomfort. He sniffs her head slightly with pursed lips, and I have a hard time not chuckling as I begin to drive back to his place. “Why does she smell like maple syrup?”
“Clean baby piglets tend to smell like that,” I reply. “Isn’t she adorable?”
“She’s…something,” he admits. “Oh my god… why is she wiggling like this?”
Glancing at him, I can see Bella is trying to escape the towel to get closer to my omega. I think she can sense what a sweet soul he has, but I can’t tell Tav this, not yet.
He wouldn’t believe me.
Pulling over to the shoulder of the road, I can’t hide my grin as I park the truck.
“You can’t just stop here,” Tav hisses.
I ignore him as I scoop Bella out of the towel with one hand, pull open Tav’s long sleeved Henley shirt, and say,“Bomb’s away! Catch, honey.”
His jaw drops as he curls his hands hurriedly as Bella disappears down his shirt. She rubs her cheek against his naked chest, releases a huge sigh, and then closes her eyes.
“Oh,” he whispers, gazing down at her as I resume driving. “How did you know she wanted that? You’re some kind of animal whisperer, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been around animals since I was toddling around,” I grin, shrugging. “They’ll tell you what you want if you’re willing to listen and know what their body language is telling you. Bella wanted to be snuggled against your body heat. She likes you, and from what I understand, there are few people she enjoys being around. I was told while I was at the Henderson ranch that our baby Bella likes to bite people.”
“Absolutely not,” Tav hisses protectively. “She’s a little baby angel.”
“Exactly,” I say smugly. I remain that way throughout the drive, and all the way up to Tav’s loft.
Bella is still asleep while Tav introduces her to Floyd, who sniffs her head, licks her, and then barks to remind Tav to feedhim. Snorting in amusement, I grab his food to handle that while Tav sits on the coach with our piglet.
“I’m going to give up my apartment and move in with you,” I say calmly as I place the food bowl down for Floyd. “I’ve never enjoyed where I’m living, which is why I’m waiting to close on the house.”
“You’re…here?” Tav squeaks out adorably.
“Yep,” I reply, walking through the loft. “Say hello to your new roommate and his little friend.”
Tav’s jaw is practically on the floor, but he’s not sputtering or angry. I’m going to call that a win, at least until he finds the words to tell me off.
Octavian
One Week Later
I swear to god I was not meant to live with anyone else.
Not another person, anyway.
If I have to pick up one more dirty fucking sock I will throw them all into a pile and light them on fire right here in my living room.
What’s worse than being an obsessive compulsive, germaphobic, neurotic omega having to clean up after the alpha I scent matched? Fighting the urge to rub those dirty socks all over my face, shove them in my pockets, and take them everywhere with me because they belong to my scent match and smell like him.
The fact that I even want to do that has me absolutely mortified. I don’t particularly like feet to begin with, I definitelydon’t like dirty clothes or having them strewn about my loft, and the fact that Bentley wears nothing but steel toe boots or sneakers means his gigantic feet profusely sweat, and that’s enough for me to have a stroke.
Yet, here I am, clutching about three and a half pairs of dirty, worn, stinky socks in my bare hands, staring at them while debating on torching them, or if my customers would notice the funk coming off of me if I decided to wear them around my neck like a grungy scarf.
I’m driving myself crazy.
“I might have to strangle him,” I grumble as I spin on my heel and march toward the washer. “I’ll use all of his size forty-seven socks to fashion a noose then I’ll tie it around his neck and twist until something happens.” With a snort, I toss them into the washing machine and start sorting through the basket on top in search of more lights. “He’d probably like it.”
Which means whatever thatsomethingwas that happened would involve boners and morealmost sex, and that has the opposite effect than it should; it pisses me off.
