Roseville Romance

by Lorelei M. Hart

  “Mmm. Hmmm.” But he didn’t move.

  “It’s clean and pressed.”

  “It is that.” Somehow his words didn’t make me feel any better.

  I squirmed like a schoolboy under the headmaster’s gaze. “And it’s all I brought, so I have to wear it.” That should end the discussion for sure, but just in case… “And I only have a few minutes before I have to leave. So, so go away and let me get ready.”

  Hal’s sigh must have come all the way from his toes. “Patrick, don’t you want your omega I to be impressed? I mean, not that he won’t be just because you’re you, and that’s pretty good…” Pretty good?

  “But we can do better.” Hal took my shirt from my hands and dropped it on the desk. “Do not put that on. Give me a minute.”

  I sank into my desk chair, bare from the waist up and wondering what he had in mind. But I didn’t have to wonder long before he reappeared with a big shopping bag emblazoned with a name of a designer boutique so famous even I had heard of it. He must have gone shopping at lunch again.

  “Okay, Patrick. I have just the thing. It will make your eyes look even darker and more mysterious.”

  Me, mysterious? Not on my best day.

  Hal dug into the bag, shifting things and murmuring, “Where is it? I know...oh here we go. He won’t be able to get his hands off you in this.” With a big grin, he thrust a tissue-paper-wrapped bundle at me. “Put this on and we’ll do something about that hair.”

  I unfolded the white paper to reveal a mossy-green sweater so butter soft, I gasped. Then I glanced at the price tag and gasped again. “I can’t take this.”

  “Damn right, you can’t.” But his smile remained softened. “But you can borrow it for tonight if you promise me one thing.”

  I hoped he didn’t want my first-born child, but that sweater was worth most other things. With the amazingly soft texture, I could imagine my omega, that is Damon, wanting to pet it. As I was doing now. Only with it on my body.

  “Your terms?”

  I half listened while slipping the amazing V-neck over my head. He assured me that I didn’t want a T-shirt underneath and the second my torso was embraced by the weave, I felt more confident. More ready to spend the evening with the man who was not only gorgeous and sexy, but who had taken on the raising of a young man who had been one of my favorite patients since the first time he’d come in.

  Damon was the first parent who had actually joined him in the exam room, more points for him. I knew some dentists found parents distracting, but in my experience, anything that made the child feel more comfortable was a good thing.

  And the connection I had already found between the two of them, the sparkle in little Robbie’s eyes when he talked to Damon, the way he slipped his hand into the photographer’s as they headed for the parking lot, gabbing about something at a museum and ditching school… If I hadn’t already been falling for the omega, seeing him with Robbie would have done it for me.

  I let Hal mess with my hair, dragging in a zippered bag with his supplies and working me over for five minutes while I fidgeted in the knowledge that no amount of hair product would make a difference to the heavy, straight mass, but glad he was willing to try. A glance at the bathroom mirror as I stopped in before leaving shocked me. It looked amazing. Shiny, with a little lift, and if I wasn’t mistaken, a bit of so-black-it’s-almost blue Superman glints in the wave on top.

  I faced the man in the mirror. “Okay, dinner at Nino’s and a stop at the piano bar”—which had been his request for the loan of the sweater —” You look great, Patrick. You can do this.” My cheeks reddened at my silliness. Still, between the sweater and the upgraded hair, I really did believe I looked about as good as I possibly could. And I was buying the sweater from him. Sailing past Hal who was closing down for the night, I waved. “See you later. Just don’t do anything to embarrass me, okay?”

  “No problem. It’s sing-along night, everyone has a great time.”

  As long as there was no dancing. It would be fine.

  Chapter Six

  Damon

  “The emergency numbers are on the refrigerator, here.” I pointed to the list with my glasses in hand. I’d run out of contact lenses that day, of course, and the online store wouldn’t deliver for another three days. Patrick got to see me in all my nerdy glory. “And my number and Patrick’s number are here on this Post-it and also programmed into Robbie’s phone.”

  Amber, the neighborhood babysitter bobbed her head up and down and made notes like she was my assistant instead of caring for my kid for the night.

  “I will be home before midnight,” I said, looking around to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. I’d made a vegetable lasagna along with salad and breadsticks for them earlier, so there would be no pizza deliveries. Amber tended to flirt with the delivery guy for an hour. I found that out the hard way when Robbie told me he’d watched The Purge for over an hour before Amber noticed because she was otherwise occupied. The kid had enough violence for six lifetimes, no need for any more.

  Besides, that date had been a bust. I knew this one wouldn’t be. No clue why I had such faith in tonight, but I did, deep down in my gut.

  “I charge extra after midnight,” the teen with reddish hair said, and one of her eyebrows perked up, almost agreeing with her.

  “Thank you for reminding me. Make sure he brushes his teeth before bedtime and bed at ten, okay, Robbie?”

  Robbie was not pleased about being left behind, but I saw his little eyes dazzle when I talked about dating Patrick. “It’s Friday. Eleven.”

  I groaned. I knew it would be a debate.

  “Ten and not a second longer, young man. You’ve got soccer in the morning. You wanted to sign up for soccer, remember? We talked about having enough sleep before games.”

  He pursed his lips, knowing I was right. But even more than me being correct, he’d made the rule himself.

  “Ten thirty?” His voice carried the begging tone.

  “Rock-paper-scissors me for it.”

  “Deal. Best of three.”

  Robbie hopped down from the barstool, and I bent to meet his challenging stare. “One-two-three-shoot!” Rock to his scissors. Rock to his paper. Paper to his scissors. He won, the little shit.

  “You win, fair and square,” I said and ruffled his hair.

  “I kicked your trash,” he exclaimed and then did a little victory dance.

  “That you did.” As I accepted defeat, the doorbell rang and my stomach did a somersault, knowing who was on the other side.

  “I’ll get it!” Robbie yelled, and for once I wanted him to get the door. I wanted one more chance to check everything and also get ahold of myself. This was just a date. Why in the hell was I getting so worked up?

  “How do I look?” I whispered to Amber who was texting—again.

  “You look hot. The V-neck sweater thing looks good on you.” Then she gave me a thumbs-up.

  “Thanks,” I said, and turned to look at my reflection in the window above the sink. Hair was messy but fixed. I’d used some new product but wasn’t sure if I was trying too hard.

  “He’s here, you big stud!” Robbie yelled, and I about died right there on the kitchen floor.

  “Robbie, I’m not sure that’s appropriate,” I said, coming around the corner to the entryway.

  “Oh, trust me, it’s appropriate,” Patrick said, winking at me.

  I giggled and then shook my head. It had been ages since I giggled. “Robbie, nothing inappropriate, and don’t give Amber a hard time. Call me if you need anything, okay?” I bent down to kiss his forehead, and he wiped it off proclaiming it was yucky.

  “Sorry, life of a single father.”

  Patrick nodded, and I took in a swift breath, noticing how perfect he looked. The color of his outfit set off his eyes in a way that had my belly fluttering again. “I understand,” he said calmly. “You ready?”

  “I am.” I grabbed my phone and wallet from the table and close
d the door behind me, making sure it was locked.

  Patrick opened the passenger door for me and lingered a bit longer than necessary at the door while I got in. He hurried to the driver’s side and started up the pristine but understated car.

  “Where are we headed?”

  He smiled and made a few turns before answering, “My favorite restaurant. You’ve been to Nino’s?”

  “I’ve never been there, but we get takeout from there sometimes. They have that new delivery service. Best five extra dollars I could ever spend.”

  He reached over and surprised me by taking my hand in his. “How long have you had Robbie?”

  “About three months, but I’ve had others before him. Some stay for a while, and some just don’t fit. But I love it. All kids need somewhere safe and warm, somewhere that gives them stability.”

  He nodded. “I agree. I see a lot of different families in my practice. You’re doing a great job from what I can see.”

  We continued our small talk through the rest of the ride and had dinner at Nino’s. For a Friday night, it was pretty quiet. We shared a huge plate of spaghetti and meatballs but passed on dessert. I didn’t want to pop out of my pants before midnight, well, at least not from too much food.

  “I hope you like music,” he said as we got into the car again. He’d held my hand at every interval and I’d assumed the date was over after we ate. Apparently, I was wrong.

  “I love any kind of music, actually.”

  “Good. It’s...well, you’ll see.”

  We arrived at a purple and black painted place that looked somewhere between Las Vegas and New Jersey flash. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a lounge. They have karaoke and a piano bar. It’s fun. You met Hal at my office, right?”

  I nodded and chuckled. “I did. He, um, is a character.”

  “He is. But this is his place. Come on. It’s eighties night.”

  I checked my phone while Patrick came to my side of the car and opened the door for me. After I was out, Patrick hadn’t moved so I looked up to his face. “What?”

  “There’s something I want to do before we go in.”

  “What is it?”

  Suddenly, Patrick had me pressed into the car, his hips against mine and the evidence of his intentions pressed into my groin. “I’m going to kiss you now, just in case I forget later.”

  I nodded, breathless as the moment he showed up at my door. “Okay.”

  His lips touched mine, soft and warm, and I relaxed, letting him in. He turned my insides to mush as his tongue explored my mouth while his hands grasped my hips as his rocked against me.

  I couldn’t think straight. His spicy scent intensified as did his mouth, and I reached out to fist his shirt, desperate for something to anchor me.

  He pulled back seconds later and nipped at my bottom lip. “Well, that was more than I planned for. I got carried away.”

  I put my finger on his lips before he could continue. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

  He smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth. “Then I won’t. Let’s go inside and have some fun before the devil on my shoulder wins the argument.”

  “What argument?” I asked, curious again.

  “Whether or not to take you home right this second, omega.”

  Chapter Seven

  Patrick

  I swore if I saw just one person wearing a lounge lizard jumpsuit, we were out of there, but to my relief, it didn’t seem to be dress-in-the-worst-fashion-choices-ever night. No, it was eighties night, as I had told Damon, and it appeared to be a popular event. I couldn’t even see the bar for the crowds milling around, holding Long Island Iced Teas and something I heard called a “Jungle Bird.”

  I also couldn’t see the piano, but I could hear it, and Hal’s voice. It never ceased to amaze me that the ordinary receptionist who greeted my patients each day could perform like a superstar. At least he seemed it to me. Who knew “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” could get a crowd of mostly guys going like this. It sounded like half the bar was singing along with the chorus of the Cyndi Lauper classic.

  “Wow, this place is nice,” Damon said in my ear. I liked to flatter myself he’d moved in to whisper sweet nothings, but more likely he just wanted to be heard over the raucous and somewhat out-of-tune singing. “Did you say Hal plays here?”

  I turned my face toward his ear and said, “Right. He’s in the middle of that crowd toward the left side of the place. Let’s try to fight our way to the bar and get some drinks before heading that way.”

  “Sounds good,” Damon shouted back as the folks around the piano burst into the chorus. Once the song ended, they’d be thirsty, so I grabbed his hand and, towing him after me, threaded through the densely packed folks. By the time we made it close enough to the bar to shout our request for the drink of the night, the ever-popular Singapore Sling, I was already planning our escape. Had I ever enjoyed the mobbed club scene?

  The two bartenders, tall blond guys who had to be identical twins, were moving fast, and one of them had our gin drinks shaken and poured into tall glasses, garnished with an orange slice and maraschino cherry—old school all the way—in far less time than I’d expected. I passed one to Damon, prepared to tell him we’d just have this one drink, wave to Hal and head out, but as he took a sip of the drink, his eyes sparkled in a way that weakened my knees and brought my cock, half-hard since I’d met him, to full alert. He lowered the glass and smiled with pure delight. Holy shit, nobody could look that good.

  “This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” he said, leaning in close to speak. “Thank you so much for bringing me. And for the delicious drink! I’ve never had one of these before.”

  I stuffed a five in the already half-full tip jar and beamed at the geniuses who’d made my date happy, before slinging an arm over Damon’s shoulder and nodding toward the crowd around the piano. “Like to sing?”

  “Love it.” His smile broadened and he took another drink. “Think you can get us close?”

  “Anything you want, omega. Hold on to me and we’ll work our way in. Ready?”

  His arm came around my waist, bringing his head to my shoulder. “Yes, alpha. I am.”

  Something about the way he said that sent a shiver down my spine. I felt like a knight errant bringing my beloved where he wanted to be. His laughter gave me the impetus to shoulder through the rollicking clientele currently wailing, “Sweet Caroline.” Good times never had seemed so good. My nerves and excitement were slipping away, replaced by some of the excitement Damon exhibited as we emerged next to the piano and joined in the song. Damon rested his palms on the piano cover, tipped his head back, and sang.

  And I was in awe.

  Even amid the rollicking noisy folks swilling the retro drinks and following the lyrics on the screen in the corner above Hal, Damon’s voice was clear and extraordinary. My breath caught in my throat and the rest went away. After a couple of verses, I realized it wasn’t just in my head. “Sweet Caroline…” Oh Neil Diamond.

  A song about love unexpected, about finding the one...about no more lonely nights. My arm still lay over his shoulder, and I tightened it, wanting him closer, wanting him so close we became one person.

  He sang like an angel and had a body made for every kind of sensual sin. He loved kids—look at him with Robbie—and…and…

  “Bah bah bah…” The other singers were back but who could resist singing that part. And then the song was over and a cheer broke out. Hal was grinning at us, gave me a thumbs-up, and started another song.

  I didn’t want to leave so much anymore. I couldn’t sing like my date, but in a sing-along, I could keep up, and Damon had a gift for drawing people in. A couple of hours later, he was sitting on the piano like a 1940s diva and leading everyone in “Living on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi. I had to admit Hal was a programming genius, knowing when to up the tempo and when everyone needed something a little softer, slower, and even when to take a break so everyone could hit the bar.


  Us...people kept the drinks flowing, but I’d switched to fizzy water with lime early on since I was driving. Finally, during a pause, Damon grabbed his phone and grimaced. “I have to get home or I’ll be paying my babysitter’s car payment.” He moved to slip off the piano, but Hal grabbed his arm.

  “Just one more, Damon. You call it.”

  He hesitated then that award-winning smile, a dentist’s dream, spread across his face. “Africa.”

  “Toto,” Hal said, fingers poised over the keys. “Good choice. You sing it.” He addressed the crowd not thinned at all despite the late hour. “This time it’s all Damon.”

  Judging by the applause, they were fine with the idea.

  The lighting changed, dimmer. I wasn’t sure who did it, but it was perfect, and I could almost imagine we were far away on the continent I’d dreamed of visiting since dental school. Heck, since I saw my first wildlife documentary. But the fantasy had expanded over the years to include someone special, a mate at my side. Kilimanjaro rising from the plain. A tent. My omega and I cuddling close inside, rains beating on the walls. The only thing was, up until now, that person hadn’t had a face.

  Now he did.

  And a voice…

  When this song finished, there was no applause. Just silence. The club lights brightened again, and I heard someone yell out, “Last call,” but nobody rushed the bar. Not yet.

  Hal stood and closed the cover over the keys. He shoulder-bumped me as he walked past, the crowd parting for him. “Bring your omega anytime, Patrick. But I’m not sharing my tips.” He lifted the jar, stuffed tight with bills of varying denominations. “I’ll see you at the office.” Leaning in, he murmured, “Don’t let him get away.”

  The crowd emerged from their dream state and, as one, lurched toward the bar, freed from the thrall of our trip to Africa. What an outstanding night.

  I reached up and lifted Damon down, letting him slide against my body until his feet touched the floor. His hands on my shoulders drifted over my chest, and he sighed, “So soft.” Oh yeah, Hal was never getting this sweater back. “It’s been an amazing night, but duty calls.”