How did that saying go? If it weren't for crap luck, I'd have no luck at all—or something. Any other day of the flipping decade would've been a better day for Killian to show up—smelling all mapley goodness, and not the pancake syrup they sell at the groceries, no. He smelled like fresh maple syrup. I wasn't going to lick him.

I wasn't.

Killian took me to his car. It was a tiny compact thing, perfect for the city, but made him look like a giant in the driver seat, his chair pushed back all the way, rendering his back seat useless.

I had one rule—one stinking rule—and I was breaking it. Never let anyone take me home. Yet there I was, all puffy eyes and messy hair, putting my address into his phone and worse—liking it—liking that I trusted him enough to give him the information.

Sure, I had him leave all his deets with Lola, but never in a million years would I actually have need to use it. But it was habit. Stay safe. Always.

"Here." I handed him back his phone, which he mounted on the dash, the GPS already annoying me with her bossy nasally voice.

"You were smart," Killian said out of nowhere after a couple of minutes of companionable silence.

"How so?" He piqued my curiosity. I'd been called many things since leaving home, smart was never one of them.

I both liked and hated that. I'd already let my facade fall with Killian and lost my chance to snag such a fine alpha. That made my comfort with him awful, because it meant we might've had a chance had I not bunged it up with my puffy eyes and red nose.

"Making me leave my name and info with your co-worker." He engaged his turn signal. The traffic today was light. The one day I would welcome heavy traffic, it had to be gone. Of course. "Smart."

"I have my moments." I was beaming under his praise, like an unhealthy fool. I was only setting myself up to be squashed like a bug. "For the record, I don’t think she’ll need to use them."

"If you did, I'd be pissed."

“Sorry?" Because I had no idea what else to say to that. He didn't seem the type to get his panties in a bunch because people feared him. Heck, his job was to scare people into not being evil at the club. It was kind of his thing.

"No, I mean I'd be pissed if you went with me if you had any concern for your safety. Always listen to your gut."

I had so misinterpreted that. He was spot on, though. Your gut knows. It was following my gut that saved me that night all those years ago. if I hadn't listened, who knew where I would be.

"I try to."

"Good. You live pretty far out from work." He pulled to a stoplight, and the GPS felt the need to remind us to go straight because stopping must mean we were lost. "Your commute must suck."

"Eh, it's not so bad." Truth be told, I kind of liked it. I got to people watch and think of new plot twists for a book I was working on, or one I might work on in the future. That’s what working at the café was good for too. I didn’t need to work there, I just liked it. On days when I didn't want to people, I just took a cab. "Only one transfer, and it runs pretty regular. It's a safer neighborhood then I could afford on a Café Om salary any closer."

It wasn't a lie, not exactly. If I only used my cafe income, there was no way I could live near work, but my cafe money was my fun money, or part of it, anyway. I could live anywhere in the city and be fine financially, but no alpha wanted a rich omega who didn’t need them… unless they wanted him for power or to use his money. And I’d turned away from that path a long time ago.

I wanted someone who wanted me for me, not the money I inherited or the books I wrote, just me. Just Marcus. Marcus the perfect omega. Because if I found the one, that was who I was going to be: their perfect omega.

"I hear that. I commute from Edmonton. I need at least the pretense of a backyard. I have a dog, Sally, and walking her in the city just doesn’t cut it for her or me. But anything closer with a yard or courtyard costs a mint."

Killian’s neighborhood was barely considered part of the city. I'd only been there a couple of times when I first came to town. I remembered it being all families, with bicycles leaning against the stoops and old men in beat up lawn chairs gossiping, each house with a tiny little grass yard. It was a nice place to live, but an odd one for a single alpha.

"Tell me about Sally."

I was a cat person more than a dog person, but hearing the lift in his voice when he mentioned her name had me wanting to know all things about her.

"She's a wonderful purebred mutt. Her head only reaches my knee, but she isn't fragile looking like those dogs celebrities carry in their purses. I'll show you a picture on my phone when we get there. Do you have a pet?"

"If you count Blubby, then yes, I do."

"Blubby?"

"A beta fish. Bright blue and, when the light hits him just right, a tad bit gold. It sounds crazy, but he likes me and gets happy to see me when I get home. I wanted a kitten when I moved in, but the building has a no fur or feather policy. I guess huge-ass snakes like my neighbor has are fine, but sweet little fluffy kittens, big problem." At the time, I even tried to pay a double deposit to get a kitten, but the landlord was adamant—no fur. I got Blubby out of an eff you you can't tell me what to do rebellion without any actually rebelling, and the sucker grew on me.

"Blubby sound like a great pet. Do you need any stops along the way? Milk or eggs or anything?"

The wise thing would've been to politely decline and let him drop me off. But out of my mouth came, "I could use some more cream, yeah. Only if you don't mind." I used my best perfect omega voice.

"Trust me, I wouldn't ask if I minded," he said as he turned into a spot next to my neighborhood grocery.