The Omega Nanny

by Penelope Peters

  The words almost bubbled right out of him – but before Kieran could say a thing, he pushed back on the laundry room door and shut it behind him as quickly as he could.

  It was freezing in the little laundry room. Kieran stood in the dark, felt the cold creep on his exposed hands and face, and felt warm enough that he wasn’t shivering at all.

  “Oh, Thomas,” groaned Connie, on the other side of the door. “You let him go again?”

  Kieran went very still. Thomas had to know that he hadn’t actually left yet; it was possible he’d send Connie after him.

  “He’s fine, Connie,” said Thomas firmly, and Kieran watched as the light under the door turned off as Connie and Thomas moved out of the kitchen. “He’s not an idiot, he can take care of himself.”

  Kieran stared at the strip of dark under the door, and began to smile. He pulled on his hat and gloves, and when he left to walk home in the dark, didn’t feel the cold at all.

  Chapter Five

  Thomas spent all of Wednesday determined not to worry about Kieran.

  He pretended that he was checking the morning news coverage for the same reason he always did – traffic and weather and general updates on various national issues. He certainly didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when the local news did not mention any unidentified male omegas being found dead in a ditch.

  When he drove to work, he was absolutely not looking along the side of the road, wondering if he was going to see Kieran, still making his way home, wet and cold and bedraggled.

  Lunchtime did not include the temptation to call home and ask if Connie had heard from Kieran.

  And when Connie did call halfway through the afternoon, Kieran’s safety was absolutely not the first thing Thomas worried about, before he even wondered about Jessie.

  “I’m doing the guest list for the marriage,” said Connie. “Mom thought you might want to invite someone.”

  “In other words, Mom is hoping I’m dating someone,” said Thomas dryly.

  “Mom does try to be very diplomatic about the way she words things,” agreed Connie. “So. Are you?”

  “Dating someone? No.”

  “Bringing someone.”

  “Yes, actually. Nora Epstein.”

  “Oh,” said Connie, and Thomas could hear the surprise in her voice. “Of course. I haven’t seen Nora in… years, I suppose.”

  “I thought you were friends?”

  “Yes, because all betas know each other,” said Connie dryly. “We’ve got a secret handshake, you know.”

  “Nora said something about weekly meetings.”

  “Nora’s very pretty.”

  Thomas sighed. “I know.”

  Connie made a strange sort of humming noise. “You know what Mom’s going to think.”

  “I’m not a complete idiot, Connie.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. Last chance to request a veggie for dinner.”

  Kieran had eaten all his broccoli the previous night before touching anything else on the plate. And actually, Thomas couldn’t recall seeing him eat any of the chicken at all. “Broccoli. And a salad.”

  “We had broccoli last night.”

  “All right then, green beans. And a salad. And more broccoli. I think Kieran’s a vegetarian.”

  There was a very pregnant pause. “Really,” said Connie finally, drawing out the word with all the emphasis and innuendo she could manage. “I didn’t know you were paying so close attention to what he was and wasn’t eating.”

  “Can we just have some vegetables on the table?” asked Thomas, desperately wishing someone would walk in with a crisis for him to handle.

  “Fine,” said Connie, drawing the word out with a dramatic sigh – good God, no wonder Jessie was so dramatic herself. “But not broccoli because there are other vegetables in the world.”

  “And you know them?” asked Thomas innocently, just to hear Connie’s irritated huff.

  “Bye,” she said shortly before disconnecting the call.

  Thomas thought he heard a door open in the background, just before Connie hung up, but before he could ask if it was Kieran arriving, the line was disconnected.

  Of course it was Kieran, he told himself. Kieran was fine. Kieran made it home the previous night. Kieran was not lying dead in a ditch anywhere, or kidnapped by omega slave traders.

  It took a great deal of effort to remain focused on his work for the next two hours. At five minutes to five, Thomas was nearly jumping out of his skin, watching the second hand on his wall clock sweep in a lazy circle, as if it had nothing better to do and might have considered going backwards for good measure.

  At five o’clock precisely, he was out the door.

  “Making up for Monday’s overtime?” said Enrique, jokingly, as Thomas waited impatiently at the elevator.

  “Just don’t want to be stuck in that traffic again,” said Thomas, as casually as he could manage. Enrique might have been his boss, but Thomas knew he didn’t mean anything pointed by it – and besides, Enrique was also clearly ready to leave. “Who knew twenty minutes made so much difference?”

  “Everyone, mostly,” agreed Enrique. “Looking a bit tense there – trouble at home?”

  “My sister is getting married in two weeks.”

  Enrique nodded sagely. “Yeah, that seems to be the trend. Open the floodgates, in they all come. Not that I care,” he added quickly. “I’m not a betaphobe or anything. Them wanting marriage doesn’t really mean jack shit for my bond, I get that. Stability is good for society and all.”

  “He’s a nice guy,” said Thomas, a little defensively. “A lieutenant in the army. Smart, responsible – he’ll be good to Connie.”

  “Sure,” said Enrique with a shrug. “But she knows that Jessie is her first priority, right? I mean, that’s what betas do, take care of the kids for us when we can’t.”

  The elevator arrived. If Thomas hoped it would already be occupied, so that he could drop the conversation as turning too personal, then he was doomed for disappointment when it proved to be empty.

  “He’s being transferred to Germany in a few weeks, actually. We’ve hired a nanny for Jessie. Young omega kid, he seems to be working out well.”

  Enrique whistled. “An omega nanny? Those exist outside porn?”

  “He’s fine,” said Thomas, but he could already feel his hackles rising.

  “I’ll bet,” said Enrique, with a waggle of his eyebrows that said his interpretation of Thomas’s “fine” was anything but what Thomas had actually meant.

  “I’m taking Nora Epstein to the marriage,” Thomas blurted out.

  It was too much of a switch for Enrique – hell, it was too much of a shift in conversation for Thomas, and he’d been the one to initiate it. Enrique didn’t say anything until the elevator was nearly at the ground floor.

  “Huh. Okay,” he said finally. “I guess you spend that long with betas….” He shrugged, oblivious to Thomas’s hard stare. “Well, man, she’s a nice lady. Might want to file with HR, though, make sure everything’s on the up and up. Clarity in accountability and all that.”

  “Right,” said Thomas, already beginning to regret everything he had ever done in his entire life that led to that moment.

  “See you in the morning,” said Enrique as the elevator doors opened, and he swaggered out, just as unencumbered as he’d swaggered in.

  “Yeah,” said Thomas, and wondered what the hell Nora was going to say when she found out that Thomas had just told their boss that they were dating.

  * * *

  Thomas managed to avoid telling Nora anything until he was two miles away from home, sitting in traffic that refused to move. He’d been stationary for five minutes when he remembered the cell phone in his pocket, and he fired off a text to Connie to let her know where he was, before biting the bullet and calling Nora.

  “Oh,” said Nora, which was about as anticlimactic as the terrible traffic despite Thomas’s rush to get out of the office. “Well, I suppose we would have had
to tell HR in any case.”

  “Okay,” said Thomas, not exactly following, but he thought he could see brake lights shifting off in the far distance, and waited, on edge, for the traffic to start moving again.

  (No chance that they were stalled because of a young omega nanny and his six-year-old charge lying in a bloody pool in the middle of the street, of course. That was just his imagination at work.)

  “You have to consider how it looks, Thomas,” Nora chided him. “I know it’s not a date, and you know it’s not a date, but… it does look like a date.”

  “It’s not a date.”

  “Of course it’s not a date,” agreed Nora.

  Traffic moved about six inches. Thomas sighed, and shifted the car into park.

  “Thomas?” asked Nora, and the hesitation in her voice caught him off guard. “It’s… it’s not a date, right?”

  “Of course not,” said Thomas, and he thought he could hear Felicity banging her head against something hard. “I mean. I don’t think it’s a date. Do… do you think it’s a date?”

  “No!” said Nora quickly. “Just… I want to make sure we’re on the same page, even if everyone else is in a different book entirely.”

  “Did you come up with that analogy just now?”

  “I think it’s quite good, don’t you?”

  “Very,” he told her. “Decided what to wear yet?”

  “No,” said Nora, and she sounded much more normal now, if a little disgusted with her own inability to find something appropriate to wear. “What’s Connie wearing?”

  “Clothes.”

  Nora groaned. “Are all alphas this frustratingly unhelpful?”

  “It’s a talent, not the pheromones,” said Thomas, and his cell phone beeped with an incoming message.

  Connie. Thomas’s heart leapt. Oh, God. She’d have to say something about Kieran, wouldn’t she?

  You’re that close, maybe you could walk!

  Thomas resisted the urge to throw the phone out the window, and put it back up to his ear, just in time to see the line of cars in front of him finally moving at something somewhat faster than a snail.

  “Traffic’s moving, I should go,” he said.

  “Thomas Whittaker, did you call me when you were driving?” Nora demanded. “I’m hanging up now.”

  The line of cars moved, Thomas was able to make the next right turn, and he raced through the neighborhood as quickly as he dared, until he pulled up into the driveway with such force that he nearly sent the car flying. He skidded to a stop, and was in the darkened laundry room before the car door had even closed all the way.

  The warm scent hit him the moment he stepped inside, even before he heard the laughter. Thomas didn’t just breathe it in – he gulped it down, warm and thick like maple syrup, the sharp bite of an icy orange, as rich and buttery as the delicate layers of a croissant. The frustration from his journey home melted away, and he breathed it in, letting himself relax as his thoughts pulled themselves together with the sort of clarity that had been eluding him all day.

  It’s Kieran.

  Kieran was home. Laughing, on the other side of the door with Jessie, the clink and clatter of Connie in the kitchen, the familiar click and snap of Legos being assembled.

  Thomas let out a whoosh of breath, and rested his hand on the wall to keep from falling over with relief.

  It would have been the perfect time for Felicity to chime in about his unnecessary concern about Kieran, how little faith he had in an omega’s ability to keep himself safe after all.

  But Felicity was silent.

  Thomas took off his coat slowly, alarmed at how badly his hands were shaking, and took his time hanging it up.

  Utterly ridiculous, to be feeling this way about Kieran. And Thomas had never felt attracted to male omegas before.

  Not exactly true, Bear, Felicity reminded him, and Thomas frowned at his coat, somehow not terribly surprised that now she felt the need to speak up.

  Hush, Thomas told her firmly. That was a long time ago, and I was very young. It didn’t go anywhere. And then I met you.

  Felicity laughed softly before fading away.

  By the time Thomas went into the house proper, he felt much calmer.

  Right up until he saw Kieran. He was standing in the doorway, just where Thomas had stood the night before, carrying a plastic bin full of Lego blocks. He’d been laughing, but now he wasn’t making a sound, even though he was still smiling, and his eyes were still bright.

  He stared right at Thomas, exactly as if the laughter and the smiles and the brightness in his expression were meant for Thomas alone, and not for whatever he and Jessie had been doing.

  Thomas’s heart did a strange, funny sort of beat in his chest.

  “Fa!” cried Jessie, springing up from the other side of Jessie-ville. “We just finished the moat – can you build me a sea monster?”

  “Hi,” said Kieran. That was all – just hi. Thomas took a deep breath. He could feel Connie’s intense look on him. He was not going to look at her. Not a chance. Possibly ever again, if he could help it.

  “Fa,” repeated Jessie, tugging on his hand.

  Saved by the six-year-old. Thomas looked down. “Sea-monster. You bet,” he said, and went to work.

  * * *

  Thomas wasn’t surprised when he came downstairs after putting Jessie to bed, and saw Kieran zipping up his jacket in the kitchen. The flush of pleasure he felt, however, made him catch his breath. Thomas wondered when the few minutes of conversation with Kieran had become a highlight of his evenings.

  “…So we’re having to order more chairs, and Fa is livid,” said Connie, and Thomas realized that Kieran was looking into the part of the kitchen Thomas couldn’t see.

  His heart sank a little bit at the thought of Connie’s presence in the kitchen. Which was entirely ridiculous, it wasn’t as if Thomas was being denied anything in particular. God, no.

  “Better to have them there, though,” said Kieran reasonably. “Rather than have Brent’s family bent out of shape because third-cousin Mathilda wasn’t allowed to attend at the last minute. Or her pugs.”

  “Oh God,” groaned Thomas, stopping at the doorway. “Is this Mathilda and the show pugs again?”

  “Apparently show pugs can’t sit on the grass,” said Connie darkly from where she was wiping down the counters. “Grass stains, you know.”

  “They’re dogs,” said Thomas.

  “Show dogs,” Kieran corrected them.

  “Oh, well, then!” said Thomas. “I forgot, they have delicate sensibilities. Better warn Mom, she’ll want to make sure to order special meals for them.”

  “Caviar, sparkling water. Kibble a l’orange,” recited Kieran, his eyes beginning to sparkle.

  “Kitty pâté,” agreed Thomas, and Kieran grinned at him. Connie had stopped cleaning the counters and was glaring at both of them through narrowed eyes.

  “Do you think they’ll be happy sitting on folding chairs? I mean, these are show dogs. They might require something softer, like cashmere seat cushions.”

  “They’ll need to sit up front,” mused Thomas. “I suppose they can sit with the family. I mean. Show dogs. They’ll expect a certain amount of admiration and respect, won’t they?”

  “They’ll probably want to make an entrance,” agreed Kieran. “Maybe you should hire a few horn players so they can have a fanfare.”

  Thomas snapped his fingers. “Connie, there’s your solution. The dogs are show dogs. Trained in the art of showmanship. They can entertain the guests before the ceremony.”

  “Can they sing?” asked Kieran innocently.

  “Hound Dog,” said Thomas.

  Kieran snorted, and Thomas grinned at him. He looked much more at ease now than he had when Thomas had first come home. Thomas wondered if it had to do with Connie playing chaperone.

  Which was even more ridiculous. He and Kieran did not need a chaperone.

  Connie sighed, tapping her fingers on the counter. “A
re the two of you done yet?”

  Kieran grinned back at Thomas, playful and clearly ready to continue – but Thomas had Connie’s words circling in his mind on repeat. The two of you. The two of you.

  “Tell third-cousin Mathilda to leave the dogs at home,” said Thomas, smiling at Kieran, not quite able to tear his eyes away.

  “I tried that. Apparently she thought I was telling her she had to stay at home.”

  “It’s not her or the dogs, it’s her and the dogs,” said Kieran.

  “Exactly. And we can’t not have her. Brent says she’s loaded.”

  “Oh,” said Kieran, barely containing the laughter. “In that case, I guess Thomas is going to have some furry seatmates after all.”

  Thomas scowled, but Kieran laughed harder. “Get out before Connie tries to give you a ride home.”

  “See you tomorrow,” said Kieran, still laughing, and left.

  Thomas waited until the door closed to breathe the last bit of air scented with Kieran’s laughter, and then turned to face Connie, who was surely ready to bite his head off anyway.

  Connie’s arms were folded, but she didn’t look angry. She looked… almost gobsmacked.

  “Thomas Whittaker,” she said slowly. “Were you flirting with him?”

  “No!” Thomas yelped, and then toned down his voice. “I was… being friendly.”

  “Yeah,” said Connie, her eyes narrowed. “That’s called flirting.”

  “Friendly is not flirting,” said Thomas firmly, and walked past his sister.

  “If it’s any consolation,” said Connie, “I think he might have been flirting back.”

  Thomas’s heart did a little leap in his chest, and might have continued doing a dance if his brain hadn’t very firmly told it to stop it, you great idiot, he’s not even your type.

  “He’s not my type,” said Thomas.

  “Mm-hmm,” said Connie, in the same way she did when Jessie claimed not to have homework.

  “I’m going to bed.”

  “Take a cold shower first, I hear that helps,” Connie called after him, smirking, and Thomas resolved to ignore her.

  And take a cold shower.

  * * *

  HR was not particularly bothered when Thomas stopped to see them the next day.