Searching For His Omega - Harper B. Cole Page 0,8

for it.”

I brushed away his outstretched hand. “Got a hidden camera somewhere? Have you been filming since you walked into the café?”

“God no. I promise.” Again he raised his hands, “But if you want to do a body search, I’m all yours.”

He lifted his shirt and I caught a glimpse of his abs. A quick intake of breath gave me away so I wrinkled my nose and frowned as I eyed the outline of his impressive pecs under his tee. “Put that down.” I peered at the door. “No one wants to see that.” Except I very much did want to see not only Chet with his shirt off, but also naked.

“I assumed your boss had told you I was coming.”

“No!”

The overconfident expression disappeared from his face. “I’m really sorry. There’s been a misunderstanding. I was told the higher ups had signed off on this and you had agreed to us filming.”

“Yes and no. I had said yes in principle but hadn’t heard any details about when or who. I sort of thought the whole thing had fallen through.”

“I apologize. But when you started being overly friendly, I assumed that was part of the act.”

“Act?” I waved a hand around, first pointing at the café and then me and the rose garden. “This is no act. This is my livelihood and a place where my customers can enjoy good food, great company, and conversation, or they can get quiet time away from anything that’s troubling them. This is real life, not some second-rate reality show that hypes up people’s insecurities for ratings!” Wow! I’d really let him have it, and his cocky expression had vanished. I needed a session with my therapist.

“Stan, I’ve obviously touched a nerve. If this isn’t going to work, I’ll pack up and leave. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and took deep breaths, a tactic I’d been using since the accident. If he disappeared, I could pretend my outburst never happened. But then I thought back to what Chet had said. “And what do you mean by overly friendly? Being pleasant to customers is part of my job description.”

He gave a little shake of his head. “The whole flirting thing.”

There was no pointing denying it. I had been flirting. That was something else to be pissed about. “You’re right,” I admitted. “I was. I thought you were hot and this town has a lot of married couples with young families and older people. There aren’t many eligible alphas, and I reacted to you swaggering in, confidence oozing from your pores.”

“You like that, huh?”

Fuck! No, I’d stroked his ego. “Liked, as in past tense. Now I just think you’re an ass.”

He patted his hip. “A sexy one.”

“Nope. You’re just full of it.”

Chet shrugged. “I can live with that. Not the first time someone’s said it to me.”

“And won’t be the last.”

“Touché. So we’re good?” he asked.

“No, we’re not. But yes, the filming can go ahead. But I have to be kept informed. No springing shit on me.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” That adorable smirk should be illegal.

“Stan!” Bart, one of the baristas stuck his head out the door. “A customer wants to discuss a kid’s birthday party.”

“Be right there.” I headed toward the door and sensed Chet at my heels. “Need any help?”

“Huh?”

“I’m guessing there are a lot of enormous egos in the TV industry, and thought you might have trouble getting yours through the door.”

Chet froze. His mouth creased into a wide grin and then he slow-clapped. “One point to you, Stan.”

Ass!

Six

Chet

“Ms. Bea.” I nodded. “Pleasure to see you again.” She smiled sheepishly at me with a slight blush tinging her face. What was that about? She’d seen me before, we’d had conversations, she knew my deal in town—but this? This was new.

“Thank you. I just made some tea. Would you like to join my son and me?” And there it was. She was trying to set me up with her son. Not interested.

“I was—” Her face fell, and I felt bad and did the only thing that I could think of to recover. “I was just going to wash up. Would five minutes be too long?”

“No. No, that would be perfect.” She clapped her hands together. “I’ll see you in a bit.” And she flitted off.

I climbed the stairs wishing I was walking up them with the hot omega from the café. There was something about him—even when he was pissed as all be, he had me thinking all the