The Omega Nanny

by Penelope Peters

  “I knew you were Kieran,” said Jessie, satisfied, and picked up the new crayons.

  “Kieran,” said Connie, leaning forward, “how do you feel about heights?”

  “Depends,” said Kieran cheerfully. “Am I falling from one?”

  “Hopefully not.”

  “I only crawled out on the roof once,” complained Jessie.

  There was a crash from the back of the bar, and Kieran winced, with a vaguely guilty look on his face.

  “Gotta go, sorry,” he apologized quickly, and moved back into the fray.

  “He’s hired,” said Connie. Thomas shook his head.

  “You don’t even know that he wants the job.”

  “Hmm,” said Connie, and put out her hands as if weighing Kieran’s options. “Work in a super busy coffee shop, clearing tables and being shouted at to fetch more napkins and crayons and ketchup – or in a nice quiet home with a sweet little girl who almost never climbs up on the roof.”

  “To be fair,” Thomas pointed out, “we’re the ones asking for napkins and crayons and ketchup.”

  “Also, you pay more.”

  “We haven’t even talked about how much I’m paying. And he gets tips here, surely.”

  Connie snorted. “As a busboy? Doubtful. And trust me, you’re paying very well.” She patted Thomas’s arm while he scowled at her.

  “You’re forgetting that he’s an omega.”

  “A male omega,” Connie reminded him. “I’ve never seen you show any interest in anyone male, beta or omega.” She leaned over and covered Jessie’s ears. “His ass is safe from you.”

  “I can still hear you,” said Jessie as she colored her picture.

  Connie’s observation wasn’t precisely true – but Thomas had the feeling that correcting her about his preferences wasn’t exactly in his best interests. “Whether or not I’m attracted to him is beside the point, Connie.”

  Connie’s eyes widened. “Wait. Do you mean to say he might actually not be safe from you? Goodness. He’s definitely hired then.”

  Thomas groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I thought I was getting veto power.”

  “No, you get an opinion,” said Connie. “Jessie has veto power.”

  “How the hell did—”

  Connie reached over and covered Jessie’s ears. “Language!”

  Thomas glared. “I’m paying the kid. I get veto power.”

  Connie looked at Jessie, who looked back, mostly because Connie’s hands were still covering her ears and Connie was able to move her head.

  “I like him,” repeated Jessie. “He’s nice. He played with me and we walked to the park and he promised not to tell about the pinecones.”

  Thomas frowned. “What pinecones?”

  “I promised not to tell either,” said Jessie loyally.

  Thomas frowned at Connie, certain that whatever the secret entailed, Connie knew it anyway. Sure enough, Connie smiled, shrugged, and mouthed, Don’t worry about the pinecones.

  Kieran reappeared, and plopped a bowl of something white and gooey next to the untouched bowl of fruit. “There you go!”

  Jessie frowned as she leaned forward and peered into the new bowl. “What’s that?”

  “Clouds,” said Kieran in a stage whisper. “Don’t tell, just dip the strawberries in and then take a sip of chocolate.”

  Jessie frowned – and then tried it. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately reached for another strawberry.

  Kieran winked at Thomas, a bit cheekily, and then whirled into the crowd again.

  Connie didn’t say a word; she just picked up her bagel with a satisfied air, and took a bite.

  Jessie went for a third strawberry.

  Thomas sighed. “Fine. Fine. But you’re hiring him.”

  “Kieran,” said Connie, when Kieran swung back a moment later. “How’d you like a change in career?”

  Kieran glanced at Thomas, and then Jessie. “Um. I don’t really babysit anymore. I needed something a bit more stable than what they could offer me.”

  “Oh, good,” said Thomas dryly. “That takes care of having to pay a finder’s fee to the agency.”

  “This is stable,” said Connie. “Nannying, five afternoons and evenings a week, plus school holidays. One little girl, six years old, very sweet and biddable.”

  “Not this one, then,” said Kieran, tapping Jessie on the head.

  “Ow,” said Jessie, ducking.

  “The only catch is that you’d be working for him,” said Connie, and pointed to Thomas. “But he’s all bark and no bite and you are not his type.”

  Kieran’s glance was wary in a way that put Thomas on edge. “Not mine, either, for what it’s worth,” he said, wryly, and Thomas felt a flush of annoyance – all the more annoying for being unwarranted. Surely it was better if Kieran wasn’t attracted to him. Wasn’t it?

  “Black?” asked Thomas, feeling cantankerous.

  Kieran didn’t so much as blink. “Male. I’d need time to think about it. I’ve got a great career going here at the coffee shop, you know.”

  “Sure,” deadpanned Thomas. “They’ll promote you to head busboy any day now.”

  Kieran’s ears flushed. “’Scuse me.”

  “Thomas,” hissed Connie, leaning over the table as Kieran disappeared back into the crowd. “Seriously? Stop being rude.”

  “I’m not being rude!”

  “You accused him of being racist, and he’s the best prospect we’ve had all week.”

  Thomas shifted in his seat, eyes on the kid on the other side of the counter, talking animatedly to an older woman who didn’t look as if she even heard him. “He’s hardly our last option, Connie.”

  “Thomas,” said Connie, and her voice changed – it was more urgent now, almost frightened. Thomas tore his eyes off Kieran, and looked at his sister instead. “I’m marrying Brent in two weeks. I’m moving to Germany in three. It’s not like we have a lot of time here.”

  The coffee shop was crowded; people had been brushing up against their table the entire time they’d been there, but when Thomas felt the hand on the back of his neck – slim and light, fingers cool and instantly familiar, it was different than the brushes he’d felt so far that morning.

  Felicity. The remembered touch was a stark reminder of when he’d last felt time slowly ebbing away, as he and Felicity anticipated the close of their life as a couple, and the life they’d begin as parents.

  It hadn’t really worked that way, in the end – but at least the joy was more bittersweet now, than the painful memory it had been in the immediate aftermath of Felicity’s death.

  “I know,” said Thomas, hoping Connie’s clock would have a happier ending. “I’m sorry. But… an omega, Connie? Is this a good idea?”

  “Are you going to jump him after Jessie’s bedtime?” asked Connie bluntly, and Jessie, almost out of reflex, dropped her crayons and covered her ears.

  “Connie!”

  “Then it’s fine! At least let him make the decision, instead of making it for him, okay? He knows what he’s getting into.”

  Thomas thought of how young Kieran looked. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  Connie snorted. “He’s an omega working as a busboy in the busiest coffee shop in town. Trust me, being alone with you is probably a step up in terms of personal safety.”

  Thomas wasn’t sure what made him look up just then – but he saw Kieran coming from around the counter, still wearing his apron and the incorrect name tag. He watched as the boy passed several tables full of customers – and the way the clearly alpha customers watched Kieran walk past, with a hungry look in their eyes.

  Mine.

  Thomas’s breath caught as the rush of alpha possessiveness coalesced into that single, predatory, decisive word. Mine.

  No, he told himself firmly. Not mine. I refuse.

  “So,” said Kieran, when he reached their table. “I’ve thought about it. When can I start?”

  Connie smiled triumphantly, and T
homas knew he was in for a world of trouble. “How about Monday afternoon?”

  Chapter Two

  Saturdays at The Coffee Pot weren’t among Kieran Corvey’s worst nightmares – he’d lived through one or two of those already, nothing much scared him anymore – but they definitely ranked among the things he liked least about working there. Instead of the sleepy little coffee shop that he’d grown to love in the mid-afternoons after school let out, Saturday mornings were… well… hell.

  “Hey, sweetie, get me a refill?”

  The coffee cup swung out in front of Kieran so abruptly that Kieran almost couldn’t stop in time. Luckily, he was quick on his feet, and Kieran resisted the urge to yank it out of the alpha’s hand in such a way that it twisted his fingers. And then smash the ceramic mug over his bloated, egotistical head.

  Sweetie! Ugh.

  “Sure thing,” said Kieran easily, his friendly tone successfully masking the revulsion he felt as he took the cup as smoothly as if he weren’t bothered at all.

  Kieran was getting extremely good at dodging out of the way just in time to avoid the same alpha jerk’s hand as he attempted to grab Kieran’s ass. Extremely good – but it was hard to shake the expectation that any minute he’d feel a hand on his butt. It wasn’t until he dodged behind the counter, and leaned his back against the wall, that he was able to relax.

  At least the alpha wouldn’t complain. Hey, your resident male omega didn’t let me feel him up didn’t go over real well, especially with Cameron, let alone the rest of the alpha customers, who would no doubt be perfectly happy to leap to Kieran’s defense.

  It might have been nice, to see the asshole run out of the shop by a horde of angry and suddenly possessive alphas. But it would have put him in the debt of those same alphas, and Kieran didn’t think it was worth trying to fend off their subsequent savior-complex advances.

  “Who’s the refill for?” asked the cashier as Kieran began to fill the mug with decaf.

  “The alpha octopus at the round table,” said Kieran. Tim frowned.

  “I thought he said decaf gave him headaches.”

  “Oh, does it?” asked Kieran innocently, and Tim snorted.

  “Well, tell him that’s his second free refill this morning, he has to come up here and pay for the next one.”

  “Happily,” said Kieran, and went to deliver it.

  He didn’t manage to get away that time, and his eyes were burning by the time he made it back behind the bar. It wasn’t that the slap on his ass had stung – it didn’t – it was just….

  Kieran dropped the dirty dishes and silverware into one of the washing basins. He shoved the entire thing too hard into the dumbwaiter that would send it downstairs to the kitchen. Everything clanked and clattered, and Kieran winced, hoping he hadn’t broken anything. Cameron was generous, but she’d dock his pay if he had, and Kieran couldn’t afford to lose a cent.

  Even if he did have another job now that paid better.

  Kieran tried to breathe deep as he held down the button that would keep the dumbwaiter rolling. It was a stupid, antiquated system, but Kieran was grateful for the forced moment to stay in the alcove, where it was a little bit quieter, where the people in the coffee shop couldn’t really see him.

  Kieran closed his eyes, took a shuddering breath, and tried to focus on the good things.

  Good things.

  Um.

  Okay, one more hour until his lunch break, that was good. There was an avocado and plenty of tomatoes upstairs, and leftover mozzarella and basil from the pizzas last night. He could make a sandwich and carry it to the roof to eat. That was good.

  He’d found another job, so he could stop feeling like being such a drain on Cameron’s resources. And it’d pay more, and wouldn’t involve trying to navigate a crowded coffee shop filled with alpha octopuses. That was even better.

  He might even have earned enough to pay back what he owed before too long. Not that he had any idea what he was going to do after that. Maybe his parents—

  “Kieran,” said Cameron, interrupting his thoughts. Kieran opened his eyes with a snap, and realized that he was still holding the button for the dumbwaiter, which had surely long since arrived downstairs. Especially since Cameron was frowning at him. “You know they can’t send the dumbwaiter back upstairs if you’re holding the button, right?”

  Kieran let go of the button immediately – and just as quickly, heard the creaky old dumbwaiter start inching its way up again, likely weighted down with food from the kitchen below.

  “Sorry,” he said, a bit sheepish. “I can wait for it and call out the numbers when it arrives.”

  “Yeah,” said Cameron, but she didn’t move. “Trouble out there?”

  Kieran bristled a little bit. Cameron wasn’t one for playing an over-protective alpha, and he knew it, but… it still chafed. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Cameron gave him a short nod, and went back to making coffee as the dumbwaiter’s over-laden tray appeared.

  Well, thought Kieran, it’s not like I actually wanted her to be my knight in shining armor.

  Kieran thought briefly of Jessie’s dad, and the image of him bodily lifting the alpha octopus over his shoulder and throwing him out on the street was such a pleasant one that Kieran grinned. He wouldn’t have even had to break a sweat doing it – and Kieran imagined the way his muscles in his arms and chest would ripple and strain against the stiff button-down shirt he wore.

  The tiny curl of pleasure in Kieran’s gut wasn’t imagined in the slightest.

  “Stop that,” Kieran scolded himself, and reached for the orders.

  It was a full ninety minutes before Kieran was able to pull off his apron and head up the narrow stairs tucked away behind a staff door – there’d been a mysterious rush, just before his lunch. Kieran recognized the frantic, almost pleading look in Sally’s eyes, and Cameron didn’t even have to ask. He stayed long enough to finish clearing off the tables, and get the dishes through the dishwasher, before taking his first break of the day.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Kieran breathed a sigh of relief. The staircase wasn’t well-lit, but there was nowhere to go but up. After six months, Kieran was used to climbing them in the dead of night anyway. In daylight, there was some light coming in through a tiny, circular window just outside the door that led into the apartment above the shop, and Kieran pulled out the key from his pocket and unlocked the door, already feeling a thousand times more relaxed with a thick door between him and the chaos of the lunchtime rush below.

  It was even easier to ignore the brief flare of guilt from leaving the rest of them to the unexpected customers once the apartment door was closed, too.

  Cameron’s apartment wasn’t very large: one bedroom, a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a not-overly-large space that functioned as everything else. But she’d decorated it as if the space was ever-expanding. The windows were closed to the outside world, softened by patterned curtains, and dim but plentiful lamps all over the room, so that the light didn’t shine, it just glowed. Every inch of wall space had something on it – from some weird piece of art that Kieran was never sure wasn’t hung upside-down to more conventional portraits of Cameron at various ages with her parents and siblings. Every flat surface had something on it, too – knick-knacks and colored glass bowls and more photographs, and the extreme neatness might have been impersonal except for the tiny signs of life here and there. A cigarette lighter on the edge of a table, the coat thrown over a chair, the suitcase in the far corner by the couch, which Kieran had left open in his rush to get dressed that morning.

  The first time Kieran had gone inside, he thought it looked a bit like a maharajah’s harem. It didn’t, not so much anymore. Now it just felt like… well. Not home. But at least it was safe.

  Kieran locked the door behind him out of habit, and went to make his tomato-mozzarella-avocado sandwich before Cameron changed her mind about letting him have his lunch in peace.

  Five minutes later, h
e was on the roof, overlooking the city, on one of the beach chairs that Cameron kept for just that reason. It was a bit windy, and Kieran was really glad he’d grabbed his coat, but at least the breeze pushed the scent of coffee out of his nose.

  Kieran pulled his legs up onto the chair, criss-cross applesauce, and took a big bite of the sandwich. The baguette was two days old, the mozzarella was sliced a bit too thick, the tomato was definitely out of season and the whole thing probably needed another pinch of salt.

  But the basil burst with flavor on his tongue, and the avocado needed entire epic poems to be written about it. Kieran closed his eyes and chewed, breathing deep through his nose, and let himself relax.

  He was just taking his last bite when he heard the heavy metal door slam shut behind him.

  “There you are,” said Cameron, satisfied. Her shoes crunched on the tiny stones as she crossed the roof to join him.

  “Do you need me back?” asked Kieran, guiltily.

  “No, and you’ve got another fifteen minutes. Don’t you dare come down before then or I’ll be forced to rope you into working just to prove the point.” Cameron handed him one of the over-large mugs she carried, steaming and fresh and smelling like chocolate and cinnamon. “That group was all talk and no sitting, anyway. Everything was to-go.”

  “Good,” said Kieran, and took a tentative sniff. “Oh, wow. Did you get it right finally?”

  “Not quite,” said Cameron as she dug in her pocket. “But I’m closer.”

  Kieran took a sip, and closed his eyes as he ran the hot drink over his tongue. Coffee, chocolate, cinnamon, cream… and…

  Kieran’s eyes popped open. “Molasses?” he asked, suspiciously looking into the mug. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  Cameron hit the cigarette pack she’d fished from her pocket against her palm a couple of times as she shrugged. “It’s an idea. It does add that deeper flavor I wanted.”

  “Yeah, but it’s molasses.”

  Cameron pulled out a cigarette, shoved the rest of the pack in her pocket, and lit up. “I need an opinion on the flavor, Alton Brown, not the ingredients.”