Sunday, March 21, 2021
☘️Sunday's Short Stack☘️: Shamrock Spiced Omega by Susi Hawke
"I know you're not the kind of omega who needs an alpha to protect him. You’re strong enough on your own. That's why you're my bromega... a bro who happens to be an omega that I would give anything for... "
Greg may be an omega, but he doesn't let that define him. Aside from his almost compulsive need to clean, the most important thing to him is his job as the long-time bartender at The Big O. Greg is far from a delicate omega. In fact, he’s the same size as his best friend - an alpha who he always falls back into bed with when they’re between relationships.
Braden is a casual kind of alpha bro. He spends his time - and makes his money - playing video games. A slacker who never leaves the house, let alone bothers with unnecessary details like getting dressed, Braden is happy to settle into a non-relationship agreement with his bestie. It’s not like they’re gonna do anything silly like fall in love anyway - they’re just bros being bros.
When Greg saves the life of a quirky Irishman, he’s given an unexpected boon - his lifelong infertility is miraculously cured and he finds himself pregnant. Too bad nobody gave him the heads up that this was even a possibility.
Return to Hollydale for a friends to lovers tale of two guys who are perfect for each other, if they can just open their hearts and risk their friendship by taking a chance on love.
This is the sixth book of The Hollydale Omegas series. This book is about 27k and most likely contains an HEA. 18+ readers only please! And yes, this book contains M/PREG, adults adulting in sexy grown-up ways, and way more than an occasional use of potty mouth language.
Chapter 1
Greg
“Greg! Can I get another over here?”
I rolled my head from side to side, willing my tight shoulders to loosen as I nodded to the guy at the end of the bar. Ned? Fred? Ted? I knew it was one of the -ed names anyway... I poured him one of today’s special, dyed green beer, and slid it down the counter into his waiting hand before moving on to the big order I’d yet to fill.
I fucking hated days like this one. Not only was it Saint Patrick’s Day, the busiest beer-drinking day of the year around here, but the new kid had done a no-show. Not only was I now short a bar back, I didn’t even have time to call the owner and beg him to call someone in. I’d been hustling from the minute the doors opened today.
The next few days flew by. Or was it hours? Maybe minutes... I had no clue at this point. All I knew was I looked up when Hank the Tank brought out a freshly washed load of glasses and realized there was nobody waiting for a drink. Finally.
As badly as I wanted to sit down for a quick fiver, instead, I busily began wiping down the sticky counters. The Tank and I worked companionably for a bit. The large, muscular alpha stood quietly putting up glassware while I cleaned. Once the counters were set, I began refilling the peanuts.
“Tough day, Greggo?” When Tank broke the silence, I just about jumped out of my skin.
“Let’s just say the luck o’ the Irish isn’t with me today,” I sighed. “Do we know where the fuck Larry is today? The shithead didn’t show for his shift, and I’m the one paying the price.”
“Who’s Larry? Do you mean, Terry? Dude... for a bartender you really suck with names.” Tank chuckled and turned to head back to the kitchen. “I’ll let the bossman know so he can get you some backup.”
I shrugged and moved to start doing more clean-up when I heard screaming and the thud of a fist meeting flesh—the typical sounds of a bar fight. Two huge alphas were going at it over by cage number four, and the crowd was already starting to get involved.
“Call security, Greggo, I’m going in,” Tank said over his shoulder as he pushed his way through the mob.
“Shit, it figures.” I mumbled and hit the button under the counter that would call security in. I pushed around the bar and ran over there myself when I saw the tiny ginger dangling and struggling to free himself from the center of the large birdcage where he’d been dancing.
He was hanging by his light-up green bow-tie, clinging to the cage with his fingertips and the heels of his shoes while wiggling to get free. The only problem was trying to unhook his own tie while also holding on. I would’ve laughed at the human spider impression, if it weren’t for the fact that he was in danger of choking if he lost his grip.
There were seven of those large cages spread around the lower level of the club here, and the other dancers were still dancing for their own groups of admirers. Whether they were ignoring the drama or unaware, I didn’t care. I was grateful they were keeping some of the patrons occupied and out of the melee. The DJ had lowered the volume slightly in this area of the room so we could deal with the crisis at hand. It was our standard procedure here.
Several security guys came rushing over to help Tank break up the fight, while I opened the curved, brass painted metal door and slipped into the cage. I moved quickly to lift the petite ginger up and off the hook he was hanging from—luckily, I’m not a petite omega.
After I set him down, I patted him on the shoulder and took a good look at his coloring. “Are you okay? Take your break and come on over to the bar with me. I’ll give you something cold to drink while you tell me how the hell you came to be hoisted by your own petard, as it were.”
“Not the correct use o’ that sayin’, lad. Funny, though. Aye, I’ll give ya one fer tae humour of it.”
The guy grinned up at me, reminding me of a damned leprechaun or something with his pale, freckled skin, carrot-orange hair, and bright green eyes. I mean... if leprechauns wore thigh high boots, shiny jock straps, and body glitter anyway.
While he climbed up on a bar stool, I eased around the bar and pointed at the soda nozzles. I bit back a laugh when I looked back over at him and he’d somehow conjured a black hat with a big green four-leaf clover design on the front.
It sat at a jaunty angle on his head, making him look all the more like a freakin’ leprechaun. All he was missing was a pipe. Or did leprechauns smoke pipes? Maybe he needed a beard. I shook my thoughts away as I remembered I’d been about to get him a drink.
“7-up? Cola? Ginger Ale? Or there are juices? I’d offer something stronger but you’re working. I’m Greg, by the way.” I paused to let him choose a drink.
“Aye, Greg. Sure, and isn’t it grand ta be meetin’ ya? Seamus Murphy, at yer service. Quite the to-do on me first day, but tis over now and I’ll be thankin’ ya fer some o’ that gingered ale. Normally it’s orange juice I’d be preferrin’, but I need a little bubbly for the tumbly after almost gettin’ hung in a damn cage by me own bloody bowtie.”
I blinked at his musical voice and thick accent. While I poured him a glass of soda, I glanced over to where he sat crunching on nuts. “I have so many questions, but can I start with how the hell you even managed to get hung up in the cage like that? I wasn’t aware those things even had hooks in the center of the dome. That’s... not entirely safe, is it?”
He nodded his thanks as I set the drink in front of him on a clean napkin. “I’m thinkin’ ya saved me arse back there, so ask away, Greggie. But nae, the problem weren’t with the cage, yeah? It was with the eejit thinkin’ he had the right to grab at yer boy. Before that, he’d just been actin’ the maggot. When he got handsy, I smacked his paw and said ta mind his manners, I did.”
“No, shit?” I poured myself a glass of cola and leaned against the counter to chat. For the moment, the bar was continuing to have a brief respite. “What happened after that?”
“Then the fecker snatched me up and hung me like a muppet fer all the world ta see. Dodgy bloody whanker.”
Seamus grumbled under his breath and took a long drink. After he set the glass down again, he ran the back of hand over his lip before giving me his attention again.
“In case I’ve yet ta say it, thank ya fer the assist, young Greg. Tis me life what was saved, and now it’s me owin’ ya a boon, ain’t it?” He looked at me speculatively, as if expecting me to announce the price for my having saved him.
“Naw, man. Fuck that. You don’t owe me shit. Just, I dunno... buy me a beer sometime and we’ll call it square.”
All I wanted at this point was to go home now. Last call was still an hour away, my feet were killing me, and having this poor guy think he owed me something for basic human kindness wasn’t cool.
I left him to his drink and squatted down below counter level to clean the small sink area. Anything I did now was one less job to be done before I could leave. After a few minutes, he began chattering at me again, his voice filled with wonder.
“Ya did me a kindness, yet want nothin’ in return? Fascinatin’, lad. Tell me this then, if ya could have but one thing yer heart desired, what would that be? I know there must be somethin’ ya dream of havin’ in yer life. Sure, and don’t we all have that one big dream?”
Seamus was crunching on ice, while watching me intently as I cleaned the drain below the taps.
I didn’t get a chance to answer him then, because a group of customers came up. The probably-not-a-leprechaun guy never moved from his stool, I guess he’d had enough dancing for one night? I tried not to think of the fact that he was sitting there on my bar stool bare-cheeked and clad only in that sparkling, emerald green jockstrap.
Fuck it. The stool was washable, and Seamus had been traumatized enough for one night. Between customers, I made a point to refill his drink and freshen his bowl of peanuts a few times. I didn’t think it was anything beyond the normal way I’d treat anyone at my bar, but he seemed particularly grateful each time I showed him a kindness. It was almost as if he were taking my measure, in some odd way.
By the time we’d closed for the night, I was beyond ready to leave. I almost forgot how tired I was though, with Seamus there to keep me company. He’d kept up a running tale about some friend of his and his obsession with finding four leaf clovers, in between asking questions about my life. I was mopping the floor when his next question almost put me on my ass.
“Yer a young one yet, any plans on gettin’ knocked up one o’ these days? Or do ya already have a wee one or two at home?”
I look over at him and shook my head wearily. “No, that’s one thing I’ll unfortunately never have. I had a severe case of the mumps as a kid, and unfortunately, they said I’d never have children. It’s rare, but I’m proof positive it can happen. Or, it did anyway. Thankfully, today’s kids have that vaccine so they won’t have to get it like I did.”
Seamus looked at me seriously for a long moment, then tipped his chin. “Aye. Truer words were nae spoken, lad. Tell me though, if’n ya could, would that have been yer plan? Ta have a family?”
“Sure,” I agreed immediately. Probably too fast, but this was a sore point for me. “There’s no point in woulda, coulda’s though, Seamus. That ship has long ago sailed for me.”
“Don’t be an eejit, boyo. I told ya there was a boon due ya, didn’t I? Chin up. Sounds like ya be needin’ what I’m offerin’, aye? Just remember—things ain’t always what they seem in this world, lad.”
I grunted and finished the floor before turning to see if I could offer Seamus a ride home. But he’d vanished. I looked around the suddenly silent bar. Surely, he couldn’t have taken off that fast without me knowing about it, but then again, I had been busy mopping.
A flash of gold caught my eye and I walked over to wear he’d been sitting. A single gold coin lay next to his empty glass and half-eaten bowl of peanuts. I picked it up and held it to the light, but it looked authentic, not to mention had a weighty feel to it where it lay in the palm of my hand.
As I tossed the coin in the air a few times and caught it again, it crossed my mind to wonder where Seamus had been carrying it. I mean, he was wearing nothing more than that skimpy jockstrap and those boots. After a few seconds thought, I decided it didn’t matter and slid it into my pocket.
Now that I was done working, I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend and roommate, Braden. He’d probably forgotten to eat again; the fridge would be empty and there would be nothing open for delivery at this time of night.
At least if I checked in now, I would know for sure if I’d need to stop at the twenty-four drive thru of the burger place on my way. Knowing Braden, I would bet on it with this gold coin I’d found. But then again, Momma taught me to never take sucker’s bets.
I'm a happily married mom of one snarky teenage boy, and three grown "kids of my heart." As a reader and big romance fan myself, I love sharing the stories of the different people who live in my imagination. My stories are filled with humor, a few tears, and the underlying message to not give up hope, even in the darkest of times, because life can change on a dime when you least expect it. This theme comes from a lifetime of lessons learned on my own hard journey through the pains of poverty, the loss of more loved ones than I'd care to count, and the struggles of living through chronic illnesses. Life can be hard, but it can also be good! Through it all I've found that love, laughter, and family can make all the difference, and that's what I try to bring to every tale I tell
Shamrock Spiced Omega #6
Series
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