Knot a Good Idea (Bittersweet Omegas #4)

Chapter 5

5

DONOVAN

Sending a driver would have made sense.

That’s usually how I would do things—but I wanted to pick her up.

I wanted her in the car with me, want to breathe in that rich, inviting scent.

But I realize my mistake as she opens her front door and I look into her warm brown eyes.

I want this to be a real date.

I want her.

My Alpha instincts rage in me, the urge to pull her into my arms is overpowering.

We’ve barely spoken for two minutes, yet I’m compelled by everything April.

I should have sent a goddamn driver.

“Hi,” she says kindly, offering me a warmer smile than she did at her café. “It’s good to see you again.”

I clear my throat and hand her the bouquet of roses. “You as well. You look stunning.”

She does. It’s ridiculous.

She cocks an eyebrow and takes the flowers, placing them on an end table near the door. “Thanks,” she says. “You clean up nice, too.” Her eyes rake over my form, her warm scent blossoming around me, and my cock twitches in my pants.

I need to get a fucking grip.

“Glad you think so. Was my suit not up to par for you yesterday?” I tease.

She shrugs. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

There’s a playful glint in her eyes, and I smirk in response. “Well, I’m glad I finally have your attention now.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Of course. I have a feeling your undivided attention is something cherished and reserved for a select few.”

She blinks, then laughs.

She laughs at my words, a full-bodied, delightful sound. It doesn’t hurt my ego as much as it should, because the smile that crosses her face is breathtaking.

“Oh my god. Does that line actually work on people?”

“Honestly? That’s the first time I’ve used it. I think it was a pretty good improvisation.” The corner of my lip twitches, and for the hundredth time, I wish this could be a real date.

I would truly like to get to know this woman better.

“Remind me to recommend some improv courses to you before the night is over,” she murmurs, a delightful glint in her eye. “You definitely need some work.”

“Ouch.” I press a hand to my chest in mock hurt. “My ego, you’re bruising it.”

“Good. I have a feeling you could be taken down a peg or two.”

I’m obsessed with our back and forth and the way her snark matches mine.

No one has called me out on my shit in years.

I shrug. “Probably.”

The smile remains on her face, bright and breathtaking. “So, how is this going to work? Am I inviting you in, or…”

“Have you never been on a date before?”

She looks me up and down with a raised eyebrow. “Not with a man in a ten-thousand-dollar suit that just handed me a giant bouquet of flowers, no.”

“I’m flattered. I’m your first?”

She chuckles, her sweet scent blossoming around me. “Sure.”

“As tempting as it is to just stand in your doorway all night, I think it would be best if we made our way to the restaurant now.”

I know if I go inside her house, I’ll want to stay and ruin my plans.

This isn’t a real date. I’m not looking for a relationship.

Just a partnership.

And the sooner we come to an agreement, the better.

“I suppose.” She gives me another smile, one that makes my breath catch, and I walk her to my car.

“Of course,” she murmurs as we approach.

“Of course, what?”

“Your doors don’t open like a normal car. They open up. ”

“What can I say? It’s fun to watch them open upwards. My apologies I can’t get the door for you, though.”

“I’ll survive, believe me.”

Every other Omega has swooned at my car. There are only ten models made, and they’ve been coveted by car collectors. It was a gift, one that I wouldn’t have purchased myself but that I still enjoy.

It’s impressive.

Yet April isn’t impressed. I would go as far to say that she’s unimpressed.

And that…does something to me.

I can’t tell if this is the worst or best first date I’ve been on.

It’s not a real date.

I wonder if it’s best to just break the news to her now while we’re driving. She would probably appreciate the honesty.

But a small, selfish part of me wants to enjoy the fantasy for a bit longer.

And once I’m in the car with her, her warm scent blooming and filling the small space, the words die on my lips.

I’ll enjoy the facade, just through dinner.

I was worried that the conversation would be awkward on the drive to the restaurant, but April is welcome company.

“So, tell me the real reason you’re in Isleton,” she says as we head toward the freeway.

“No pleasantries or anything? Just a ‘what are you doing in my town?’ ”

“I thought we got those out of the way with the flowers.”

“I suppose we did,” I concede, unable to stop my smirk.

She’s refreshing.

“Okay. So, tell me the real reason you’re in Isleton,” she says.

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, fighting a grin. “Business.”

She scoffs. “No shit.” But I can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, and her scent sweetens slightly. “But what kind of business?”

“Are you really interested?” We’re at a stoplight before a freeway entrance, and I turn to her, curious. “It’s not that exciting.”

She shrugs. “Last time I checked, a date is where you get to know the other person.”

I suddenly feel foolish. When is the last time I’ve been on a date? I’m used to social events, meeting and mingling with others, but nothing like this.

It’s been years. I don’t know how to even pretend to be on a proper date.

No one’s genuinely cared to learn about me unless it’s a means to their end.

“You’re right,” I sigh. “I’m rusty with these sorts of things.”

“Yeah, me too,” she murmurs. “But so far, we haven’t royally fucked it up.”

I chuckle. “We haven’t.”

I will soon, though .

“To answer your question, I’m here for real estate. We’re looking to purchase some land.”

“Hmm.”

“You don’t seem too excited about it,” I say, noticing the frown on her face.

“I’m just curious why you would need to build multi-million-dollar homes out here.”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “I’m not.”

“Oh.” The light turns green, and I turn my attention back to the road, but not before noticing the embarrassed flush on her face.

It’s adorable, but I need to get it together.

She’s a part of the plan, and nothing more.

And that’s only if she agrees to it.

Yet the longer I stay in the car with her, the more I wish we were on an actual date.

But those are the foolish hopes of a man that has time for those things, and I certainly don’t.

“This place is breathtaking.”

It may be, but I’m fixated on the way the candlelight illuminates April’s features. She eyes the restaurant with interest, her light brown eyes taking in everything around us. The area is intimate with only a handful of white linen-covered tables and small floral centerpieces. Floor to ceiling windows give generous views of the restaurant’s gardens.

But I could give a fuck less about the restaurant. She’s the only thing worth looking at in here.

“It is,” I agree. “You fit right in.”

She rewards me with a slight smile and a slight shake of her head. “I’m not used to that.”

“To what?”

“The compliments. They’re a lot .”

“The fact that you’re not used to them concerns me. Have you not been told you’re beautiful before?”

I wonder about her previous relationships. What kind of assholes did she date that didn’t bother to tell her how stunning she was?

You’re no better , my inner voice reminds me. She doesn’t even know this isn’t a real date.

She worries her lip and shifts in her seat. “I have,” she mutters, “but compliments can only get you so far. I would like to know about you. You can try to flatter me all you want, but I would prefer we have genuine conversation.”

I smirk though inside I’m ready to scream in frustration.

This is exactly the kind of relationship I would desire.

In another life, this could be real.

The waiter brings three different breads with house-made butter, and April’s eyes light up while he explains the baking methods the pastry chefs use. They chat for a moment, and I sit back and observe as she engages in conversation with him.

She’s endearing, smart, and clever, everything my dream Omega would be.

Hunter and Liam would love her.

Well, Hunter would become obsessed, and Liam would fall head over heels for her.

When the waiter leaves, I raise an eyebrow at her. “That’s the most entertained I’ve seen you look all night,” I remark, unable to keep the slight bitterness from my voice.

She shrugs. “It’s easy to talk about baking. It’s what I do.”

“You enjoy your job.”

She nods. “I’m one of the lucky ones,” she admits. “For the most part, at least.”

I nod. “I envy that.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Oh, yeah?” she asks. “Which part?”

I cock my head and raise a brow, surprised at the sudden scent of her anger. “The part where you can talk passionately about what you do,” I reply. “The part where you can strike up a conversation with a stranger about your career and share a passion for it.”

She chews her lip and sighs. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I know I seem bitter. I’m not trying to take it out on you. I’m dealing with employee issues.”

I lean forward and give her a smile. “See this? This I can do. I can talk business with you.” I motion between us, and her eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Sure. But I doubt we have the same problem,” she sighs. “Any chance you’ve had to let your best manager go because you didn’t sell enough macarons for the quarter?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m afraid I’ve never experienced that before, sorry. I’ve had to let people go, of course, but the sales weren’t macaron related.”

She scoffs and tears at a piece of bread. “I figured.”

“Was she one of the women I saw the other day?”

“The peppy, overly-caffeinated blonde? That’s Devyn. Yes.”

“Ah. The one who suddenly couldn’t help me and had to grab you.”

She scowls. “That one,” she grumbles.

“Well, I’ll forever be grateful to her for suddenly needing to rearrange the pastries.”

“Oh, yeah?” She chews her bread slowly, and I don’t miss the way she closes her eyes in bliss.

I want that look on her face all the time.

I could make it happen. I could be the one to make her feel?—

I stop that pointless train of thought.

“Yes. Because then I wouldn’t be sitting across the table from you,” I reply.

And the worst part about all of this? I mean every word.

This Omega, this café owner, fascinates me.

“Mmhmm.” She swallows and begins to butter another piece of bread. “I still can’t figure you out, though.”

I smirk. “I thought that was the point of the date,” I say, taking a sip of my wine.

A ghost of a smile meets her lips. “True. I’ve just never been asked out like that before. We spoke for less than a minute, and I was kind of a bitch to you.”

I frown. “Don’t call yourself that.”

That’s the last word I would use to describe her.

She shrugs. “I was rude and off-putting.”

“You were refreshing ,” I insist. “There was no pretense. You were just…you. It’s been too long since someone hasn’t bothered to tell me what I want to hear.”

She shakes her head. “Still,” she murmurs. “It’s strange. I have this feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”

She’s already seeing through my bullshit, and its impressive.

“Such as?”

She narrows her eyes as she searches mine, looking for something in my gaze. She assesses me, her delicate brow furrowed.

Finally, she shakes her head in defeat. “I don’t know. But I’m sure this is the strangest date you’ve been on,” she chuckles humorlessly. “I haven’t been the best company.”

But that’s not true. I could sit and talk to her for hours.

The first course arrives followed by its wine pairing.

“You’ve been excellent company,” I say sincerely. “At the very least, I’m grateful to be talking about something other than my job.”

“Is that really all you talk about with other people?” she asks between sips of soup. She lets out a content hum as she swallows, and my cock twitches in my pants.

Beautiful. She’s fucking beautiful.

“Mostly,” I admit.

“And it bores you?”

I sigh. “Boring isn’t the right word. It’s just…constant. There’s no escaping it. I’m not complaining, of course,” I say quickly when she raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “But when you surround yourself with people who are involved with the same company you are, conversations can turn…dull.”

“I love my job,” she says softly, staring into her bowl of soup. “And I love the people I work with. It doesn’t bore me.”

Suddenly, I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet.

I must sound so out of touch to her, lamenting about how well my company is doing while she’s agonizing over firing her friend.

Prick. I imagine Hunter’s voice in my head.

“That’s admirable,” I murmur.

She scrunches her face up. “You know what? Fuck you.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“ Admirable . Refreshing . You have no idea what my life is like,” she snaps, fire in her eyes. “You could buy up a thousand of our cafes and it wouldn’t even be a blip in your budget. You would never have to fire someone that’s helped you through?—”

She catches herself and sucks in a breath . “I am so sorry,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “I don’t think…” She places her napkin on the table. “I can transfer you the money for dinner, and I’ll get a ride home. I’m sorry I ruined…” She starts to stand, and something in me snaps.

“Sit down,” I say quietly. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

Her outburst mixed with the spicy scent of her anger is hypnotizing.

She can’t leave.

I fucking need her.

She stays standing and pulls out her phone. “This was a mistake?—”

“ Sit. Down. ”

The command in my voice makes her pause. Her scent has slightly soured, but she sits in her chair with her eyes full of regret.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, her voice laced with shame. “I’ve been known to have a temper recently.”

But I don’t want an apology, especially now that I know what I can do to get her to agree with me.

“You were right,” I say, my voice low. “About tonight.”

She frowns. “What?”

“There is something I want from you.”

The waiter comes to clear our bowls, and I wait until he’s left us.

I lean closer to her, lacing my hands together and placing my forearms on the table.

Here goes nothing.

“I have a proposition for you.”