by Aiden Bates
I was beginning to think he wasn’t just changing my mood—that he might actually be changing my life.
“Guess I just woke up happy,” I told Jose, giving him a flash of my pearly whites.
“Wish I could say the same.” Jose took over my place at the sink, giving me an envious side-eye. “Whatever you’re on, I’d pay good money for a piece of it. Obviously, it’s working for you.”
Jose wasn’t the only one to notice the shift in my mood. As Dr. Smith came around the nurse’s station to assign patients for the morning, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he laid eyes on me.
“Morning, Bennet.”
“Morning, Dr. Smith,” I replied, shoulders back and ready to get to work.
“You’re looking…surprisingly well.” Dr. Smith passed me my charts for the day, holding steady on them as I tried to pull them from his hand, his eyes narrowing in friendly suspicion. “What’ve you been up to lately?”
I only shrugged, deciding to remain coy about what had really put the newfound spring in my step. “Just, ah…taking care of myself more, I guess.”
Dr. Smith stared at me for a moment, looking almost ready to call me out on my little white lie. But in the end he seemed to decide to let it slide. “Well, keep it up, then.” He shook his head, blinking a little in disbelief. “It’s like you’re glowing or something. Looks good on you.”
My stack of charts for the day was just as thick as it always was. Too many patients, just barely enough time to make sure they all had what they needed from me. But even when I had to clean up an entire tray of spilled Jell-O or order the Ryan family out of their grandfather’s room to bicker over the contents of his will elsewhere, somehow my mood remained consistently high.
Work was surprisingly easier to manage now. Stress was easier to deal with. And best of all, for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t constantly biting my nails over when I was next going to go into heat. If anything, I was almost looking forward to being all hot and horny and worked up again. I could still remember the way Logan had held me. Cared for me. Made me come over and over again, taking his time with my body as he used it with artful precision—until he couldn’t control himself anymore and had to take me hard, rough, unrelenting. The way I’d always fantasized about an alpha taking me.
The way that, ever since Chris, I hadn’t dared to dream about being taken again.
At least, not until Logan came around.
I smell like strawberry Jell-O and greedy family members, I texted Logan on my break, smiling at the way I felt comfortable telling him about even the stupidest, most annoying parts of my day.
I headed to my locker to grab a fresh shirt; my current scrubs were still splattered a toxic red color from the Jell-O incident, but before I even made it there, my phone buzzed with Logan’s reply.
I can appreciate the strawberry Jell-O, at least, he wrote. Not sure what greedy even smells like, though.
I laughed. Probably the same way I smell when I beg you to suck my cock?
My phone vibrated immediately again. He was firing off texts back to me as soon as he read my responses.
Mm. Love that scent, then. What are you up to tonight? Would love to have you all greedy like that again.
My cock throbbed against my boxers, making me grateful the pants of my scrubs were so loose and comfortable. If they’d been jeans I probably would have burst right through the denim.
I have to work until eight, I replied, adding a frowny face to further demonstrate my dismay about pulling another double shift. But if you’re up for a late one, I could swing by once I’m done.
I’ll have a bubble bath waiting for you, sweet thing.
The smile that fantasy produced lingered with me for the rest of my first shift. Even through the most exhausting parts of the day, I could close my eyes and imagine floating in Logan’s big, deep two-person tub, letting the jets massage my shoulders while bubbles drifted past me. Best of all would be knowing that Logan would be just in the next room over, waiting for me in bed when I finally felt clean and relaxed enough to join him—assuming he didn’t want to hop in with me and work me over himself.
But as my first shift came to a close and I headed to the locker room for a quick shower before the second began, I caught a whiff of someone’s lunch in the break room and felt my stomach turn. I wasn’t normally so sensitive to smells, but this one, which was pungently fishy—a tell-tale sign some asshole visiting doctor had decided to microwave salmon cakes again—took my gut in its fist and rolled it over mercilessly.
Instead of slipping into the shower, I ended up running for the toilet stalls. The door slammed open, violently rattling the toilet paper dispenser. By the time it swung closed again, I was on my knees and spewing.
Ugh. As if I didn’t feel gross enough after a full day’s work, now I had the bitter taste of bile on my tongue on top of it. Working the floor of the hospital and being up-close-and-personal with so many ill people meant getting sick was practically unavoidable for me and the other CNAs, but a stomach bug was so not what I needed right now.
“Bennet? You look…” Dr. Smith frowned as I came up to him at the nurse’s station. Apparently, my morning glow had been flushed down the drain with the rest of my lunch. “A little off,” he declared generously. “Everything okay?”
“Just a little queasy,” I said, trying to downplay how rough I was feeling as much as possible. I had another shift to pull, and I didn’t want to leave Jose hanging high and dry on his own. “Made an, uh…offering to the porcelain gods when I smelled the break room just a little bit ago.”
He grimaced sympathetically. “Dr. Haynes’s salmon cakes strike again. You feeling better now you’ve got it out of your system?”
“Not really,” I admitted, swallowing hard. “Still feeling pretty…off, actually.”
“You’ve pulled one shift already. Why don’t you go home?” Dr. Smith patted my shoulder kindly while making a point of keeping his distance. “Just in case. Could be the fishy microwave in the break room, could be a bug. If it’s the latter, we don’t want it going around.”
I didn’t feel great about it—but then again, I didn’t feel great in general. My ears were still ringing from all the retching I’d been doing, and my eyes were still watering in the aftermath. Not exactly a comforting thing for a patient to see. Besides, there was no arguing with Dr. Smith once his mind was made up.
“Thanks, Dr. Smith,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll let you know if I feel better. Jose might need help on his rounds.”
“We’ll call someone else in,” he promised. “Feel better, Bennet. I don’t want you in here again until you do.”
Out in my car, I called Logan to deliver the bad news.
“So, my evening’s free now,” I said, deciding to start on an up note. “But only because I’m feeling kind of under the weather. Rain check on that bubble bath?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Logan replied. “Sounds like a bubble bath is exactly what you need right now. Come over anyway. Let me take care of you.”
“I don’t know… I probably won’t be up for, you know. Anything fun,” I said, but Logan wasn’t hearing any of it.
“You’re always fun. If you’re not feeling up for that kind of fun, at least let me nurse you back to health.”
“Isn’t that normally my job?”
“Not tonight, it’s not. Besides, you know my tub is bigger than yours. I’ll even put in that lavender bath oil I know you like.”
I glanced over at the hospital a final time, feeling sorry for leaving Jose with my patients while I’d be enjoying pampering from the strong, capable hands of Logan O’Rourke. It was a bit of a surprise; Logan’s eagerness to deal with me even when I wasn’t likely to be on my knees with my mouth around his dick, but then again, Logan seemed pretty good at taking care of me when I wasn’t feeling myself. It was nice to know he was happy to do it when I wasn’t in heat as well.
“Okay,” I finally relented. “See you in ten.
”
Casual. It was the buzzword that kept rolling around my head as I made the drive over to Logan’s. Casual was the word we’d been using for this. Casual, implying emotional distance. Physicality, sexuality, even a little romanticism, sure. But emotionality? Not exactly on the menu. And when it came to taking care of each other when we were sick… As far as my vocabulary went, that wasn’t usually under the heading of no strings attached.
Casual fuck buddies didn’t pamper each other through the stomach flu. Casual fuck buddies didn’t want to see each other hurling into the toilet while they were feeling ill. That was part of the whole benefit of keeping things low-key in the first place. Letting an alpha see me at my worst was something I never would’ve done, unless it was in a long-term trusting relationship. Certainly not in something where I wanted to keep my distance so my sexy friend would still find me sexy once I was up for something other than clinging to the bathroom floor again.
Was Logan seeing something more here than there really was? Or…yikes. Now there was a possibility that really left my stomach churning. Maybe Logan was seeing something I hadn’t managed to yet.
I liked Logan. Liked him a lot, actually. He was making my life better, whether I was ready to fully admit it or not. I looked forward to the days I got to spend with him. Was even more excited when I could spend the night in his arms. But… If this had passed from something causal to something serious, I was certainly behind the curve.
More likely than not, it was a mix of the two. Logan had told me he liked me, and that he was happy for us to go slow, so maybe there was already something more between us, with Logan leaning into the feeling while I was decidedly cautious.
Which way it went, only time would tell.
But as I knocked on Logan’s door, I couldn’t pretend that seeing the way he looked at me when he opened it didn’t leave my heart leaping up in my chest a little. The question was, were those actual butterflies I was feeling in my stomach when Logan stared me up and down, his eyes caressing every inch of my form…
Or did I just need to puke again?
Shit.
“Hey, you.” Logan dipped down to my level, pressing a kiss to the side of my cheek before ushering me inside. Warm, friendly, but not exactly romantic.
Or maybe, he just didn’t want to shove his tongue down my throat when I’d just explained to him how I’d spent the end of my shift spewing up the contents of my gut.
“Hey,” I said weakly, allowing myself to be guided toward the kitchen. “How’s your day been?”
“Ah, not bad.” Logan moved to a pot bubbling away on the stove, and then lifted the lid to release a billowing cloud of steam. “Made some chicken soup for you. Thought it might be nice to have something in your belly, after…well.”
I breathed in the scent of the soup, my mouth watering at the savory smell of spices, stewed vegetables, garlic and rich broth.
“It sounds…delicious, actually.” I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling it rumble beneath my fingers. Suddenly, I didn’t actually feel so sick after all. Maybe it really had just been the noxious fumes of Dr. Haynes’s microwaved salmon cakes.
Logan nodded toward the living room. “Go on in and sit down. Put your feet up. I’ll bring you a bowl and some ginger tea. Should help settle everything nicely.”
“With sugar?” I asked, my voice quiet and hopeful.
Logan smirked. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
Sprawled out across the couch, I discovered the chicken soup was exactly what I needed. The steam felt incredible against the clammy coolness of my cheeks, and the taste alone was enough to make me consider whether I wouldn’t be okay with my fling with Logan becoming a little less casual after all.
“Logan, this is…seriously nice.” I hummed, feeling really, truly relaxed for the first time all day. “Incredible, actually. You’re so, so good to me.”
“It’s easy to be,” Logan declared. “Now, lift your feet up.”
Raising an eyebrow, I acquiesced. Logan shifted beneath them, pulling my legs back down onto his lap while I dove in for another bite.
As the herby, salty broth flowed warm over my tongue, I closed my eyes and considered it again. Homemade soup without even needing to ask him for it. Ginger tea on demand. The way he hadn’t even flinched as he tugged my sweaty socks off, the callouses of his fingers feeling pleasantly rough against the aching arches of my bare feet.
It certainly didn’t feel casual. There couldn’t have been a further thing from it. It was nice.
Actually, it was all really, really nice.
“Want me to put on a movie while we eat?” Logan asked. “I’ve got Atonement or Top Gun.”
I chuckled at Logan’s offering. He certainly had quite the taste in films. “Top Gun sounds amazing right now, actually.” I wiggled my toes as he reached for the remote and rubbed my feet idly with his free hand. “Atonement is too sad. Don’t want to puke and cry all within the same hour, I think.”
“Good choice.” Logan grinned over at me as he flipped on the film.
The opening credits rolled, with Logan returning his hands to both of my feet for a more focused massage. It sent a glow of warmth spreading through me, being so close to him. Feeling so cared for. So comforted and safe.
Maybe it felt this way because Logan wasn’t like other alphas. Because of his maturity he was more settled, less impetuous, and maybe that’s what I needed. Someone who was prepared to take his time with me, someone who would take care of me, and who wouldn’t mind that I couldn’t have kids. Logan had already had his time with his children, so no doubt he wouldn’t be thinking of any more, not at his age. So, yeah, Logan was perfect for me, but did he think I was perfect for him?
Oh. Oh, fuck.
The realization felt like knocking into a coffee table with my shins after stumbling around for hours in the dark.
I might be in love with Teddy’s dad.
That didn’t make much sense, except… It made a lot more sense than my relationship with Chris ever had. Logan obviously cared for me. He would never hurt me or make me feel bad, and if he had a temper it was entirely contained within the bounds of his interactions with his troops on the military base. I really was safe with him.
I guess it was too early to be sure, of course, but at the same time…
“So,” I said easily, glancing between Logan and the visions of jet planes rolling across his TV screen. “This is us being…casual. Right?”
Logan had never been a man of many words. If he detected the hint of probing in my own, he didn’t acknowledge it. He only kept on working on the knots in my arches, dipping down after a moment to lay a gentle kiss on my big toe.
“Yeah,” he affirmed, finally glancing over to me with a smirk. “This is casual.”
That smirk melted me all the way through the rest of the credits. By the time “Danger Zone” roared to life, sending the jet planes taking off into the sunset-streaked skies, I realized it was catching.
Whatever was going on with my stomach may not have been infectious, but a smirk from Logan O’Rourke couldn’t have been anything but.
15
Logan
When the phone rang that evening a few nights later, I leapt for it. Already, I’d begun to anticipate the sound of Bennet’s ringtone—freshly changed to “Danger Zone” after our Top Gun date—every day when I knew he would be getting off work. Had to spend the back half of most days distracting myself with whatever I could find just to keep from checking the volume of the ringer over and over again, making sure I hadn’t put it on vibrate by accident.
Not that Bennet needed to know that. As far as he was concerned, I enjoyed spending my afternoons working with my power tools in the garage. In a way, it was half-true. After our little sexcapade on the deck chairs, I’d determined I wasn’t going to be able to have people over ever again without worrying they’d somehow know about the sinful christening Bennet and I had given my patio furniture. But as soon as I heard the sque
al of guitars that heralded the beginning of Bennet’s journey over to my place that night, I tossed my safety glasses to the side and answered the phone before I’d even bothered to compose myself.
“Hey, you. How’s the cramping?” I closed my eyes, catching the breathlessness in my voice a half-second too late. Just like Bennet didn’t need to know I was building a whole new patio set to keep my mind off him by day, he didn’t need to know the way my heart pounded like a kettle drum every time he called.
“Still pretty minor. The hot flashes are getting a little worse, though.”
I smiled at the sound of his voice. Even through the slightly distorted static of the phone, his voice against my ear was like listening to my favorite song on the radio.
“Heat’s coming on pretty soon then, you think?”
“I mean, it’s so unpredictable, but…” There was a pause, then Bennet’s voice shifted into something a little more flirtatious. “I’m a little excited for it this time. Aren’t you?”
“Very.” Whatever I was trying to keep from Bennet about my current emotional state, the way I physically wanted him was certainly not a part of it. “Drive safe, okay?”
As soon as we hung up the phone I set about double checking my various condom stashes. I felt like one of those doomsday preppers, storing ammo and bottled water all over the house just in case—only in my situation, it was rubbers I was hoarding in every spot I imagined Bennet and I could possibly get it on once his heat finally set in. Beneath the cushions of the couch in the living room. In the nightstand next to my bed. A few tucked away in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom if we decided to hop in the shower together—or better yet, the tub. A handful in an unused cookie jar in the kitchen. A box in the glove compartment of my truck. I’d even, embarrassingly, placed a couple beneath one of the ugly lawn gnomes in the backyard—gifts from Jason the last Christmas he’d spent at home before he’d shipped back out again for the last time.
