“Gods, stop that.” Valen scowled, punching Harris in the arm. “Go pick the guy up.”
Harris slapped his ass, then jogged out the front door. He was ten minutes late, and he was hoping Sam Brentwood wouldn’t dismiss him as a no-show.
A couple months back, Harris had gotten into a terrible fight with Valen. An apartment building had been burning for a while, structurally-compromised. There had been two children trapped in a room. Harris had been about to go in himself—he was getting old. He could risk his own life. But Valen had disobeyed his orders, had gone and put himself in danger.
Harris had been terrified of losing him. Back at the station, he’d yelled at Valen until the entire shift came to look, and Valen had yelled back. Kinda ballsy of Valen, but they’d been fucking for half a year at that point.
Harris had dropped Valen down a rank, just so he couldn’t pull rank on the dangerous shit. Valen had fumed and not spoken to Harris for two weeks. Then he’d gone and disobeyed Harris again, and gods, Harris almost had a heart attack.
He knew firefighting was a risky job. Didn’t mean he wanted to see his lover walk into a building and die.
Would’ve helped if Valen valued his own damn life. Would also help if Harris didn’t care about Valen as much as he did.
Short of giving Valen something else to care about, Harris was at a loss. What was he going to do? They both knew the dangers. Harris scheduled their days off so they had breaks at the same time. But Valen also bristled when Harris got too close. And Harris didn’t need Valen protecting him—he was alpha.
It felt like there was a gap between them, somehow, that neither of them could fill.
Hence the cooking instructor. Maybe the lessons would mellow them out, maybe it would help patch up their relationship.
If nothing came out of it, at least they’d stop eating out of pizza boxes for a while.
Harris stepped into his car, slammed the door shut, and lowered the convertible’s roof. Made it to the grocery store in record time, and almost smacked his forehead when he reached the tiny mall.
His Porsche was a sleek black beast, lowered close to the ground for speed. With all the things on his mind, Harris had forgotten that he should’ve taken Valen’s truck instead, with its higher clearance.
He winced when the underside of the Porsche scraped into the parking lot. It was a Monday, but somehow, most of the lots were full. And there was a dark-haired omega standing by the doors of the grocery store, hands in his pockets, looking out over the cars.
Was that Sam Brentwood? Harris had wondered what their cooking instructor would look like, whether he’d get along with himself and Valen.
He circled the parking lot, parked, and jogged across the road. Smelled the lingering scents of the shoppers—the woodsy scents of alphas, the grassy scents of betas, and the floral scents of omegas.
The omega at the doors looked up, studying Harris’ face. At least, Harris read him as omega, from his slight figure, the faint whiff of dahlia... and the low, heady musk of an omega in heat.
He’s in heat? Harris’ footsteps faltered. He’d seen a number of omegas in heat, but bringing one home was slightly different, even if it was just for a cooking class. Hadn’t been so close to an omega heat in a while. He didn’t want to be thinking about sex the whole time.
“Sam?” Harris asked, extending his hand. “I’m Harrison Fields. I go by Harris, though.”
Recognition darted through Sam’s eyes. He looked good, actually—high cheekbones, sharp jaw, midnight-blue eyes. Thin lips, slender limbs. Harris expected Sam to bear the scent of another alpha, but when he drew another breath, all he smelled was onions and pepper, and broth.
Those blue eyes dragged down Harris’ chest, and back up to his face. Harris paused. Was Sam interested in him? It had been a while since he’d had an omega in his arms—ten years. Shouldn’t think about that.
“Nice to meet you,” Sam said. His voice was barely audible, but he shook Harris’ hand firmly. Not something Harris expected, but it was nice. “I’ve bought ingredients for a dinner for two. No allergies, right?”
“None,” Harris said, glancing down at the full tote bag by Sam’s feet.
It was late fall, and Sam was dressed in a sweater and flannel pants. Still, he shivered when a breeze blew by, hugging himself.
“C’mon,” Harris said, picking the bag up. “It’ll be warmer in the car. I’m sorry I kept you waiting—that was rude of me.”
Sam shrugged and smiled. “That’s all right.”
Harris had to strain his ears to hear Sam, but Sam seemed nice enough to work with. The cooking classes would probably go well... and maybe Valen would take a liking to this omega. If Valen were interested in a night with Sam, Harris wouldn’t object.
He led them to the Porsche, wondering what it’d be like if he and Valen brought Sam into their bedroom. A long while ago, Harris’d had his share of partners. Bonded with one.
Then Nicholas had died during childbirth, taking the baby along with him.
Still hurt, that loss. Harris breathed the pain out, nodding toward the Porsche. Thought about having Sam between himself and Valen, an omega who might appreciate their warmth.
His cock stirred. Next to him, Sam’s eyes widened at the convertible.
“I haven’t the chance to give it a wash,” Harris said. “Promise our kitchen isn’t as filthy.”
“That’s right—you mentioned your roommate,” Sam said. He eased into the passenger seat, looking at the polished console like it might bite him. “Are both of you new to cooking?”
Harris laughed, closing the passenger door. “We have variations of frozen pasta for dinner. I make some kickass bacon mashed potato, but that’s about it.”
Sam relaxed a little. Harris rounded the hood, got into the car. Raised the roof and turned on
