The Loneliest Alpha (The MacKellen Alphas) by Grey T. A

Author:Grey, T. A. [Grey, T. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: T. A. Grey
Published: 2013-06-13T22:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

The shower kicked on upstairs.

Alicia bit down on her fingernail, gnawing it. What am I supposed to do now?

“Not freaking out would be a good start.”

Okay, she thought, letting out a shuddering breath. That hadn’t gone so bad. It could have been far worse. He could have gone straight upstairs without stopping here or told her to fuck off or any number of things after what she did last night. But he hadn’t done any of those things which gave her hope.

So she finished cutting wedges of tomato for the salad, checked the potatoes, and started the whipped cream for the strawberry shortcake—only to come up short.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She blinked at his empty pantry. “He doesn’t own a hand mixer.”

Oh lordy, this man needed a woman in his life.

Alicia came up short at the wayward thought. What the hell did that even mean, she thought in a panic. That she should be that woman or that he just needed one?

The shower shut off upstairs. She checked the time; he was done in less than six minutes.

“Shoot!”

She started rushing around the kitchen, turning the broiler off on the oven and removing the steaks so they wouldn’t overcook. She poured two glasses of ice tea then stared at his place setting, biting her lip. What if he didn’t drink tea? What if he did?

She poured a glass of water too and put that at his plate.

Dang, but she was already mucking this apology thing up before it even started. In her defense, she wasn’t used to this whole apology thing. She didn’t live with another person and she hadn’t dated anyone since Robert.

She went back over her mental list for dinner tonight. The salad was done. He didn’t have any salad dressings—really who did that?—so she’d made a simple one her mom used to make, a light, creamy dressing that tasted good with any kind of salad.

The mashed potatoes were hot and ready to go, the steak was cooked, and the strawberries were marinating in sugar and the biscuits for dessert were cooling. All she had to do was beat the whipped cream.

She got to work on it, whipping the mixture like her life depended on it. When one arm started to burn she switched arms. After her biceps felt like how Arnold Schwarzenegger’s looked, the mixture formed foamy peaks. Perfect!

Now, the wait.

What did she do now? Everything was ready to be served. Was he coming down or not? Normally she would have been tempted to head up there and find out for herself but she still teetered in dangerous territory because she’d messed up.

He was right, no doubt about that. And after she’d cried a bit last night and her mind cleared she knew he was really right. He’d obviously moved the box after she’d noticed it the first time and she’d stolen his secret from him that he’d wanted to give to her. It wasn’t fair and he had every right to be angry.

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