Page 50 of A Snowy Escape

That damn playful smile makes my chest feel weird. I’m not a giddy person, but the strange anticipation fluttering in my stomach says otherwise.

“That sounds almost like a date,” I blurt out.

“Huh, ya know what? It does.” The lightness to her tone makes me hopeful that I didn’t say the wrong thing. “Can we eat on the couch? I’m feeling like the table is a lot of work.”

“The couch works for me. Why don’t you get that set up, and I’ll get Echo her dinner?”

“That’s perfect.”

* * *

Since we’re eating in front of the TV, I put on the news.

On the drive over, I heard there’s another storm front coming our way within the next few days.

They’re forecasting ice before snow, which is never a good sign, except when I want the adorable little omega to be stranded at our house for at least a few nights.

We’ll take good care of her, and maybe if we do a solid job, she’ll realize how much more relaxing our home is compared to living above Maxwell’s.

I’ve spent more than a few hours daydreaming about closing down the bar, just so I wouldn’t develop an ulcer from worrying about her being surrounded by drunk idiots in the middle of the night while taking Echo out.

I would end up in prison for sure, and that would be counterproductive to being able to court her and keep her forever.

She somehow ordered my burger exactly how I like it and substituted macaroni and cheese for the fries, exactly like I always do.

That’s more than a woman has done for me in my life, excluding my mother.

We eat and chat about nothing, and once we’re done, Abby scoots closer to my side.

Echo is already stretched out on the other cushion with her head on my thigh.

I toss my arm over the back of the couch in an attempt to lure the omega even closer.

Abby grabbed the throw blanket earlier and covered her lap before she started eating. She brings it up, tucking it around her chest.

“You cold, sweetheart?”

“A little,” she says, wiggling around the cushion.

I pat my pec. “Scoot over. I’ll warm you up.”

“Thanks.” She plasters her face to my chest, leaning into me.

I smile, shaking my head.

She’s so damn cute.

I’m not cut like Luka or Bryant.

I’m strong, but I’m also soft.

While I might not make women drool when I take my shirt off, I know I’m comfortable to cuddle with.

That has to count for something, goddammit.

I pull my arm off the couch, planting my hand on her hip and pulling her closer.

She feels so small compared to me, but alphas tend to have close to a foot in height on omegas. I have to believe nature knows what it’s doing on that front.