A Grumpy Christmas

door, giving me a nice view of his tight little ass as it flexed with each step.
I shook the image from my head. He wasn’t my omega, and I had no business noticing his ass. I slammed the door, twisting the two deadbolts in place before rolling to the kitchen. My first thought was to toss it all in the trash bin, but the smells emanating from them enticed a fierce growl from my empty stomach. Turkey piled high on one side of the bottom container, both white and dark meat, sat next to thick slices of ham. The next container held mashed potatoes, dressing, and green beans in divided compartments. Opening another container revealed a thick gravy, its rich aroma making my mouth water. The next container was filled to the brim with the cookies the omega had mentioned. The last thing on the stack was a large foil bundle, the yeasty smell of fresh-baked bread revealed when I pulled apart the thin sheet of aluminum. Butter glistened on the tops of the pillowy mounds.
Round chocolate cookies with both chocolate chips and chocolate chunks sat nestled together in haphazard stacks, bits of orange zest visible within. The smell of cocoa filled my nose and I couldn’t resist biting into one. Fudgy goodness melted in my mouth with a slight hint of orange lingering on my tongue. I’d never had a chocolate cookie with orange zest before, but the taste worked. Three cookies were gone by the time I replaced the lid.
Grabbing today’s plate and a fork from the dish drainer, I piled it high with my selections. No sense wasting food that smelled that good. The lid went back on the cookie container so it could sit on my lap where I could sit my plate. I rolled into the living room, transferring my load to the table before moving myself to the comfort of my large sofa. Once settled, I grabbed my dinner, moaning at the first bite. As much as I’d loved my omega, he was a disaster in the kitchen. I’d never eaten anything as good as the food I’d been gifted tonight.
A short while later, I’d cleaned my plate and only half a dozen cookies were left in the tin. Forcing myself to ignore them so they could be enjoyed tomorrow, I rolled everything back into the kitchen. It didn’t take long to rinse off my plate and fork. Since it was the last meal of the day, everything went into the dishwasher with the previous day’s dishes.
Living alone, it was easier to only use one set of everything all day, rinsing in between use. I ran the dishwasher once a week. Washing a lot of dishes while in a wheelchair was a strain on the back which I attempted to minimize as much as possible. At the end of each day, what I had used  went into the dishwasher. At the end of each week, the dishwasher would be loaded enough to run and my process started all over again.
I made quick work of storing the leftovers. The containers which needed refrigeration all went into the fridge. I left the cookie tin and the few dinner rolls I hadn’t eaten on the counter.
That night was nightmare-free for the first time in forever, as glimpses of an energetic omega with a cute ass flitted through my dreams. It was the best night’s sleep I’d gotten in years.

Chapter Four
Max
The days since Thanksgiving raced by. While I enjoyed the visit with my family, watching their eyes light up at the house I’d chosen, entertaining the whole crew had been exhausting. It was almost a relief when the last person boarded the flight to head home to Upstate New York.
I hadn’t seen my neighbor since I’d taken Thanksgiving dinner over to him. It had been a spur-of-the-moment idea I still didn’t know why I did. The idea of the man being alone without a turkey dinner had seemed abhorrent to me.
Pierce Knowles was younger than I’d expected from what the neighbors had said. My brain had conjured up a wizened old man with gray hair and wrinkled with age. While the man in question had a little gray at the temples and a few strands in his days-old scruff, old was not what I’d call him. Sure, he couldn’t be more than fifteen years older than me. As for wrinkles, a few crow’s feet were the only evidence of the man’s advancing years.
If he hadn’t been sitting in the wheelchair, I wouldn’t have thought there was anything wrong with him at first glance. Pierce was built like a tank, all bulging muscles and ripped abs. It had taken everything in me not to gasp when I’d seen there was only one leg on the footrest. Not knowing what to say, the words had rushed out of me. I’d been in and out of the man’s house so fast, I’m surprised I hadn’t tripped in my haste. So embarrassing. I hoped my neighbor didn’t think I was a total moron.
I’d never met anyone who was missing a limb before. At least, I didn’t think I had. I remember some kid in high school doing a report on the advances of prosthetics in science class, but I hadn’t really paid much attention. I was sure there were lots of people walking around with devices that might look like they were the real thing until one looked really closely. Something I rarely did. It was embarrassing how self-centered I’d been even a year ago, never taking the time to notice others around me who were different. I hoped I’d gotten better as I’d gotten older. Based on how I acted with my neighbor, I wasn’t all that sure I’d matured as much as I thought I had in the last few years.
As I sorted through one image after another on a stock website looking for the perfect cover model, it didn’t take long to realize my