Catching Him (How to Catch an Alpha 1)
Suggestion 6
LET HIM TAKE THE LEAD
LEAH
Tyler: Pizza or Chinese tonight?
I read the text message from Tyler and smile as I type back, Chinese. We’ve had dinner together every night this week. We haven’t once made plans, but like clockwork, he shows up not long after I get home, and we make dinner together. I guess he doesn’t feel like cooking tonight, and really, I don’t care what we eat, as long as I get my daily fix of him. My phone buzzes again, and I look at it.
Tyler: Let me know what you want and I’ll see you at your place around six.
What I really want to say is I want you, but I don’t. The sexual tension between us has been mounting, but like I told Chrissie, I’m not going to be the one to make the first move—no way, not this time. If he’s interested in me, then he has to put his cards on the table. I’ve always been the one in my past relationships to make it clear I was interested in moving forward, instead of the guy taking the lead.
I text him my order, then get out of my chair and start to clean up my station. Once I’m done, I head for my mom, who’s in the back of the salon.
“Everything okay?” Mom asks, and I lean my shoulder against the wall, watching her pull out foils from her client’s hair.
“I don’t have another client scheduled, so I’m going to leave a little early. I still need to get food for the boys, who are coming over tomorrow, and stop at the video game store.”
“Don’t you mean junk food?” She smirks.
“Of course. What other kind of food would I get for two growing boys I’m trying to bribe?”
She laughs, and her client laughs along with her.
“Okay, honey, are you doing anything fun tonight?” She knows Tyler and I have spent every evening together. She and Grams haven’t let up on the questions since Sunday dinner, and I’ve been honest about what’s happening. I’ve told them that nothing has changed between us, because nothing has. We are still just friends who enjoy each other’s company.
“Tyler’s bringing Chinese food.” I shrug. “We’ll probably watch a movie or something—I’m not sure.”
“Well, have fun, and call me if you need my help with the boys over the weekend.”
“I will. Love you.” I push off the wall and kiss her cheek.
I get in my car and head to GameStop, then the grocery store. While I’m at the store, I get only a few things from the outer aisles. Almost everything else I buy is frozen, in a colorful box, or in a bag—things I love eating and, with the boys around, will have an excuse to.
When I get home, Bruce is waiting for me on my front porch, where he is most evenings when I get home from work. He doesn’t wait for me to let him inside through the front door. As soon as he sees my car, he zooms into the garage, then greets me at my driver’s-side door. I give him the rubdown he demands once I’m out and carry all the groceries I bought inside to the kitchen, with him bouncing at my heels.
Wednesday, when I got off work, I bought him the biggest bag of dog treats I could find and put them on the counter in a canister next to Mouse’s treats. He now knows they’re there, and he also knows I’ll give him one as soon as I reach the kitchen. Before I have a chance to give one to him, the doorbell rings. Tyler smiles at me when I open the door, and like always, his presence makes me feel a little off kilter.
“Hey.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, which leaves me stunned. He’s never put his lips on me before, and it feels like they’re imprinted into my skin.
“I’m just putting away groceries.” I turn away from him, not wanting to make a friendly kiss to the cheek awkward. He follows me to the kitchen while holding a bag of Chinese food. When we get there, I go right to Bruce’s treat jar and pull out a bacon strip for him. He sits, and I give it to him. I then watch him run off with it in his mouth.
“What is all this?” Tyler asks, looking at the stack of frozen pizzas, gallon of ice cream, box of pancake mix, and assortment of chips, cookies, and candy on the counter.
“I think I told you that Owen and Isaac are coming over tomorrow.”
“You did.” He picks up a bag of chips. “You weren’t joking when you said you’re working on being their favorite aunt.”
“I’m already their favorite aunt,” I state matter-of-factly, glancing at him. “Don’t get me wrong—Beth is cool, but she’s also a health freak, so they’re never thrilled with the idea of hanging with her for a weekend, or even a meal.”