Omega Teacher’s Secret Page 6

  Ian snorted. “This is plenty good, Brad. Thank you. I can’t believe you took us here. When I said dinner, I meant somewhere chea—”

  “Ian,” Brad said. Looked pointedly at his professor.

  Ian froze, glanced at Brad’s lips. Then he smiled faintly. “All right, I’ll tell you how delicious dinner is. Right, Gwen?”

  Gwen nodded, her eyes growing round when the waiter set down a full menu in front of her—like Brad had asked.

  Ian and his daughter took some time, just flipping through the menu. “There are a lot more choices than I expected,” Ian murmured, his eyes glued to the chicken dishes. He read the descriptions, then glanced at the other side of the page. “I can’t find the prices.”

  Brad rolled his eyes. “Seriously, professor.”

  Ian laughed. “Maybe I prefer when you call me that,” he said.

  But Brad was starting to think of him as Ian—it was so much more intimate. And it fitted better, because that was twice they’d fucked, now.

  Before Brad could reach over for Ian’s hand, Gwen looked up.

  “What’s ‘aw gra-teen’?” she asked.

  “Au gratin,” Ian said. “It means it’s sprinkled with breadcrumbs or cheese, or sometimes there’s both. Is that something you want?”

  Gwen hummed, looking thoughtfully down at the menu. “I’m trying to find the turkey. There’s so many words I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s look for it,” Ian said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  Brad exhaled. Thought about being on the receiving end of that kiss.

  Ian looked over, raising his eyebrows. “Are you done looking at the menu?”

  Brad shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve been here a couple times. The turkey’s on the page behind the chicken. Specialty fowl.”

  “I see.”

  Ian flipped Gwen’s menu for her. “Can you find it?”

  Gwen scrutinized the menu, then she yelped and pointed. “I did!”

  “That’s great.” Ian grinned. “Want to read it together?”

  Gwen nodded fervently.

  Together, they read, “A succulent feast of roast turkey breast and thigh, marinated in orange and raspberry, served with a side of crispy fried potatoes and baby bella mushrooms.”

  Gwen stumbled on a couple of the words. Patiently, Ian corrected her pronunciations. Then they read the words over again, Ian slowing down to match Gwen’s pace.

  They looked as though they were in a world of their own, and for a moment, Brad felt awkward. Like he didn’t truly belong with Ian and his daughter.

  Wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking, asking them out. It wasn’t like he knew how to be a dad. Or if Ian would even let Brad into his life.

  It’s not like he’s come out and said the baby’s mine.

  But Brad looked at Gwen again, really focused on her eyes. How many people out there had honey-brown eyes like his own? There were some. Not few, but not many, either. How many brown-eyed alphas had Ian slept with?

  What if she’s my daughter?

  It would explain Ian letting Brad closer to his daughter than Brad thought he would.

  Brad’s heart thumped. Wasn’t sure how to deal with that information.

  And maybe it was a good thing Ian hadn’t told Brad who had fathered his kids, because Brad wasn’t prepared to be a dad. Gods knew his own father was strict, overbearing. Would Brad become an asshole like his dad?

  Ian looked up, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry—did you mind that?”

  Brad shrugged. Why are you asking me? “Do what you want. I don’t mind.”

  Ian smiled, relief darting through his eyes. Then he glanced at the menu, and hesitated. He was probably worried about the price again.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Brad said dryly.

  Ian gave a half-smile, looking back at the menu. “You truly don’t mind which dishes we order?”

  “Nah, I don’t.”

  “Even a couple glasses of Merlot?” Ian grinned.

  “You sure you want booze?” Brad asked. Glanced down, at where the table hid Ian’s belly.

  Ian cradled his abdomen, like how some expecting omegas did. “No, I was kidding.”

  So he wanted the baby, then. It made something in Brad growl. Despite his doubts about being a dad, he wanted to know whose it was. Wanted to know who else had taken Ian for themselves.

  He glanced at Gwen. Wasn’t the right time to be talking about babies—wasn’t sure what Ian was comfortable with Gwen hearing.

  “I think I’d like to try the duck confit,” Ian said, almost bashful. “What about you?”

  “The meatball stew,” Brad said. “My favorite thing here. It’s better than it sounds.”

  “I thought you’ve only been here a couple times.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve tried some of the things my parents had,” Brad said.

  Ian winced, looking around. Brad had glanced at the other patrons while they were being seated—his father wasn’t anywhere in the first story of the Apex.

  “Hey, stop worrying,” Brad said, catching Ian’s hand. He stroked his thumb across the back of Ian’s hand, and Ian breathed out, his shoulders sagging.

  “Sorry.” Ian grimaced. “I can’t help it.”

  Gwen peered worriedly up at him. “Are you okay, Daddy?”

  “I will be.” Ian angled a crooked smile at her.

  The waiter came by to take their orders. Then he left, and Ian watched the waiter apprehensively.

  “Now, it’s going to be a lot of food for you,” Ian said to Gwen. “Save some for tomorrow, okay? And maybe the day after, too. Think of it as a day-after-Christmas dinner.”

  Gwen wriggled in her seat. “I will! I love turkey dinners.”

  “Yeah?” Brad asked. “When was the last time you had some?”

  “A long time ago.” Gwen scrunched her nose.

  “Last Christmas,” Ian said, chuckling. “That is a long time, though.”

  “Where were you last Christmas?” Brad asked Ian. Watched as Ian opened his mouth, then closed it.

  “The hospital,” Ian said, his shoulders sagging. He managed a smile, though. “Gwen had to go to the ER after Christmas dinner.”

  Gwen shook her head. “It was bad.”

  Before Brad could ask about the hospital, Ian waved the waiter over. “Can we have a coloring sheet, if you have some?”

  The waiter nodded, returning with a sheet and a box of crayons. Gwen cheered and began to color. Ian watched her, a shadow in his eyes.

  Brad hesitated. He hadn’t really thought about it, but it seemed as though Ian had been alone the whole time he had Gwen. Had he raised her by himself? What sort of hell had he been through, being a single dad?

  “You had an alpha at all these few years?” Brad asked quietly.

  Ian looked up in surprise. Then he shrugged, glancing at his daughter. “Not really. But that’s fine. We managed.”

  Brad had heard things about child care, but doing that all by yourself? That had to really suck. “You didn’t tell the—the other dad?”

  Gwen looked up, cocking her head curiously. Ian fidgeted. “There was no need.”

  If he didn’t need an alpha, then why did Ian always look so hungry, whenever their eyes met?

  It wasn’t something he wanted to ask in front of Gwen, so Brad tucked the question away. “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Turkey!” Gwen said.

  “Duck,” Ian said, smiling a little. “But slow-cooked until the meat falls apart.”

  “Sounds good,” Brad said. “I think mine’s meatballs.”

  Ian laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

  He looked good when he laughed. Brad decided he was going to make Ian laugh through dinner, just because he could.

  “Well, before meatballs, I had a different favorite,” Brad said. Ian raised his eyebrows, so Brad continued, “Steaks. That’s what you get before the balls meet. Meatballs, get it?”

  Gwen squealed with laug
hter, and Ian cracked another smile.

  “Not funny,” Ian said.

  “But you’re smiling,” Brad said, nudging Ian’s foot with his own.

  “What, do you have a smile-o-meter that tells you?” Ian grinned wider.

  “Yeah. It’s here.” Brad reached over, pressing his fingertips to the corners of Ian’s mouth. Then he pushed them up so Ian smiled wider. “It’s the make-you-smile-o-meter.”

  Gwen giggled, and Ian blushed. “Are you sure this is something you should be doing?”

  “Making you smile? Yeah, it is.” Brad grinned. “Didn’t you say I’d get all the brownie points?”

  “You weren’t supposed to!”

  “Well, too late,” Brad said. “I stole a couple more.”

  Gwen looked at Brad, her eyes wide. “You can steal brownie points?”

  Ian groaned. “No, you cannot. Don’t give her the wrong ideas, Brad.”

  “But I wanna steal some brownie points, too,” Gwen said, bouncing in her seat. “Teach me!”

  She beamed at Brad, and Brad hesitated. It seemed like a huge thing, promising Gwen anything. Brad didn’t want to fail her.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said. “But only with your dad’s permission.”

  Ian gave Brad an exasperated look. “I guess I’d have to vet the process first. See if it’s really something Gwen should be learning.”

  Gwen made puppy-dog eyes at Ian, and Ian pursed his lips, looking as though he was trying to resist her charm. Brad would probably give in, if he were honest.

  “Maybe,” Ian told his daughter. “I’ll decide when I get home. But if you brush your teeth and go to bed early for the rest of this week, I might say yes.”

  Gwen squealed. Brad leaned forward, interested. “Does that mean I’ll get to see you guys next week? If Gwen is good and brushes her teeth and all that.”

  Ian paused, meeting Brad’s eyes. “You’re trying to wrangle another dinner… thing, aren’t you?”

  “What if I am?”

  “Will there be more turkey?” Gwen beamed.

  Ian laughed, covering his face. “I’ll think about it.”

  But there was a rosy flush on his cheeks now, a brightness to his eyes that wasn’t there before. Ian was smiling, and he looked happier than Brad had ever seen him.

  Felt good, knowing he was the one to put that smile on Ian’s face.

  “But I’ll have you know that your… brownie-stealing method needs vetting,” Ian said, looking pointedly at Brad.

  “I’ll give you something to vet.”

  Brad let his smile fall away, leaving heat in his eyes. Ian’s cheeks turned a dark red.

  If Brad had his way, dinner wasn’t the only thing on the menu tonight.

  The food arrived a while later. Gwen’s eyes grew wide at the towering plate of turkey. Brad was just a little envious—he’d never had a full adult course served to him as a kid.

  “C’mon, hon, smile for the camera.” Ian had pulled his phone out, and he was taking a picture of Gwen with her pile of meat. Gwen grinned, all teeth. Ian chuckled.

  He sliced up the turkey breast for his daughter, sneaking a cube of meat. Brad watched as Ian chewed slowly, breaking into a smile.

  “You like?” Brad rumbled.

  Gwen popped a cube of breast into her mouth, her smile growing. “Mm-hm!”

  “What she said.” Ian grinned. “It’s good. Juicy. I taste the thyme and rosemary—they might have brined the turkey first, with how moist it is. I mean, I wouldn’t expect any less, with the way this place is…”

  Brad narrowed his eyes. “Ian.”

  “Fine,” Ian said, slicing into his duck confit. When he popped the duck into his mouth and chewed, his eyelids fluttered shut. “Mm.”

  “You like duck, huh?” Brad murmured. Dragged his foot up between Ian’s calves, to his knees. Then, between Ian’s legs.

  Ian’s eyes flew open; Brad smirked. Ian looked incredulously at him. He glanced at Gwen, but she was sitting too close to the table to see where Brad’s foot was.

  “Not that duck,” Ian spluttered.

  “You liked mine.” Brad grinned, and Ian stared hard at his dinner, his blush reaching his hairline.

  “You ate Brad’s duck?” Gwen asked her dad.

  Ian’s eyes bulged out. “No, I haven’t.”

  He really hadn’t, and maybe Brad had jerked off to the thought, more than once. “Maybe you should,” Brad said.

  Ian stared, licking his lips. Maybe it was the wrong time to be hitting on him, when Brad couldn’t do anything but watch him across the table.

  “I do roast a mean duck,” Brad said, dropping the joke. “Maybe I’ll do that for you next week.”

  Gwen brightened. Ian looked tempted, and Brad knew it wouldn’t take much to convince him. Especially if he pleasured Ian tonight.

  “I’ll tell you how I prep the duck later,” Brad said, raising his eyebrows at Ian. “You might be interested.”

  And now there was a faint coil of musk in the air—Ian’s. Brad’s pants tightened. Ian was interested; maybe this would be the first Christmas in a while that Brad enjoyed himself, too.

  Dinner passed far too slowly. Brad finished his meatballs, watching as Ian savored his food. Gwen stopped a third of the way through her turkey, sinking back into the seat with a happy sigh.

  “Best dinner ever,” she said.

  “Hey, what about the dinners I make for you?” Ian asked, but he was still smiling.

  “I like them, too. But this is amazing!” Gwen did a happy wriggle, and Brad couldn’t help feeling a swell of fondness in his chest.

  Ian smiled wryly, glancing at Brad. “Sometime, you’ll have to teach me how to prep some duck.”

  His gaze slid down Brad’s chest like a caress, and Brad’s blood swooped between his legs.

  By the time they made it out of the Apex, Brad was half-hard, and thinking up ten different ways he could get into Ian’s pants.

  He drove them back to the apartment, parking under a bright streetlamp. Glanced over as Ian clicked off his seatbelt. “By the way,” Brad said. “I got you guys presents.”

  Ian’s smile faded. “But… but you didn’t have to. I didn’t get you any… damn it.”

  “What presents?” Gwen asked, clicking off her seatbelt. “Do I get one?”

  “Yeah, you get one, and your dad gets one, and everyone gets one.”

  “I should be getting some,” Ian said weakly.

  “I’ll give you some, all right,” Brad murmured.

  Ian gulped, his musk filling Brad’s lungs. “I guess we can—we can open them upstairs.”

  6

  Brad

  Brad grabbed the gifts from the trunk. Together with Ian and Gwen, he climbed the stairs, watching as Ian counted out the steps with his daughter.

  It seemed like a family thing; Brad wasn’t sure if he’d ever do that with his own child, if he ever had one.

  Wasn’t sure he had the patience to care for another person every day for the foreseeable years of his life.

  Then he looked at Ian’s back profile, Ian’s pants pulling tight across his ass. Brad almost tripped, watching his omega. He wanted to touch Ian. Had to hold back, at least for now. At least until Gwen went to bed or something.

  Brad held his tongue, trudging up the stairs.

  The apartment corridors were cramped and a little dim, with flickering fluorescent lights too far apart. Brad said nothing; Gwen skipped down the hallways like it was all normal to her. And it would be, if she’d been living here a while.

  I thought you make quite a bit as a prof, Brad thought, glancing at Ian.

  At a worn apartment door with peeling paint, Ian stopped. He pulled out his keys, unlocking the door. “Sorry it isn’t much,” he said, glancing at Brad. “I wasn’t expecting to have you over.”

  He flicked on the light switches, swinging the door open. Gwen hurried inside first, and Ian followed.

  Brad shucked his shoes. Glanced around the cramped living
room, the single couch in front of a TV, and the tiny dinner table just outside the kitchen, with two chairs. There was one bedroom, and one bathroom. Hardly any space to turn around at all.

  Brad had been in similar buildings while he was on duty at the station. The cheaper apartments usually featured cramped quarters, and too many fire hazards. It didn’t sit right with Brad, knowing that Ian and his daughter lived here.

  Ian looked away, rubbing his arms. “Sorry.”

  “No need. C’mon, open your gift.” Brad handed Ian the smaller box, wrapped in shiny gold foil. Then he handed a larger red box to Gwen.

  “Put your leftovers in the fridge first,” Ian told his daughter, handing her the doggy bag from the Apex. “Then you can open your gift.”

  Gwen grumbled, but she hurried the few steps to the kitchen. The fridge door opened and shut, and Brad had never seen a kid sit on the floor so quickly, tearing open a gift. Ian watched her, a tiny smile on his face.

  “She’s starting to get more active,” he murmured. “She’s been recovering from her surgery this past year.”

  Surgery? Brad held his breath, his heart sinking. “Yeah?”

  “Heart defect,” Ian said, his smile fading. “She’s been through a few for her tetralogy of Fallot. Her cardiologist says there’s probably one more to go, but otherwise, she’s had a complete repair.”

  It explained the tiny apartment they both lived in. Brad wet his lips. “Whose is she?”

  Ian glanced at him, freezing. He didn’t answer for a long time. Then he said, “Mine.”

  Not quite the answer Brad wanted, but he wasn’t pushing right now. He sighed, nodding at Ian’s box. “Go on. Open it.”

  Ian smiled, picking open the wrapping carefully. He watched as Gwen pried open her box, finding a colorful fluffy scarf. Then, a tiny fire truck.

  “I got that from the station,” Brad said. “We have a few for the kids that visit.”

  “You’re a firefighter?” Gwen’s eyes grew round.

  “Yup, been one for seven years.” Brad perked up at the attention, grinning. “Wanna come visit the trucks sometime?”

  “Yes!” Gwen shot to her feet, hurrying across the living room. Then she grabbed a huge toy truck, pushing it over to Brad. “I got this for Christmas this morning. It’s a rainbow truck!”