Page 16

Roan

After what felt like a thousand years, it was finally our favorite day of the week again—farmer’s market day.

After Harlan went and had a conversation with Rumor, we understood the misstep we’d made by encroaching on her packlands. We had originally thought stopping by and dropping off a gift would be fine…sweet even. We were wrong.

Harlan was watching as the curtains on her apartment closed with no person visible. She had been hiding from us. He had scared her into hiding by being there. We wouldn’t make that mistake again and if there had been a way to rewind time, we’d have done anything to do so.

Rumor had been very blunt that day. She told Harlan we needed to be respectful and listen to our mate’s words.

Harlan hadn’t planned on doing anything but dropping off his gift, but Rumor couldn’t have known that.

He assured her we weren’t going to cause any problems and apologized. And we planned to keep that promise.

He wasn’t sure if Rumor had known about the hiding when she spoke to him or not. And really, it didn’t matter. She was protecting her friend and giving us much-needed advice.

As hard as it was to witness, watching those curtains close was something my pack needed. It told Harlan that our mate’s distrust of us ran so much deeper than any of us initially realized. Possibly than even her pack knew.

And that’s how we ended up making farmer’s market day our day.

She wore the hat he left for her, that had to be something. And last week, she accepted Benji’s jerky and the basket. We might not know exactly what we were doing, but we were going in the right direction—or at least not in the wrong direction.

Today was my turn to give her a gift. When I got to the market, I wanted to race to her, but just as we needed to keep her packlands a safe space for her, we needed to do the same for the farmer’s market.

Not in an identical way. We weren’t going to stay away, but going to her table?

We needed to read the area first, look for signs of her nervousness or possibly fear.

My beast didn’t like that our mate might be scared of us. I didn’t think it was us she was scared of specifically, but what we stood for. She thought of alphas as the problem. And culturally speaking, she was right to be leery. The way omegas were treated was horrible and shockingly not criminal.

We would never, could never be like them. And we planned to show her how true that was. I could only hope that one day she would trust us enough to share about her past, and what led her to be with her pack—the only single omega, so strong and independent.

At least, that’s how I saw her. The way she looked at Rumor, as if Rumor was the one who could answer all the questions for her, had me questioning whether she saw how strong she really was. Based on her reaction to us, I tended to think not.

As I walked around the corner, I stood next to a table selling potholders and potato jackets, watching my mate from the short distance and waiting for her to notice me.

And she did.

She blinked, her eyes closed a little too long, and I nearly turned around.

But when she opened them again, she waved to me, a small smile on her face.

She was once again wearing the hat Harlan had given her.

It looked good on her. He’d made the right call.

It protected her eyes and also helped people see her in that crowd, which in a setting like this was great.

I walked up to the table holding the gift I’d prepared for her in my arms. She was already getting low on her goods. People loved her food, especially her cowboy candy, and they lined up quickly to buy it.

I stood behind an older man who had a basket filled with empty jars.

He set them down and told her they were returns and he needed to stock up again.

Their interaction was typical—he told her what he wanted, she told him how much it was—but still, I watched with fascination as my mate explained the new product she had. And then she upsold him for some honey.

And finally, he was gone. And it was my turn.

“You’re…you’re Roan, right?”

“I… Yeah. I brought you something. It was my mom’s, and, well, I…

” I set down the old crock. It had been in my house my entire childhood and was the only thing I still had from there.

But I didn’t bake. The guys didn’t either, at least not bread.

This would be useful for our mate. It would be a way for her to have a piece of me.

“It was her sourdough crock. I’m sorry I don’t have any starter in there. I haven’t used it.”

“But this was your mother’s?”

Was she asking or telling me? I nodded.

“And you want me to have it?”

“It works really well?” It came out as a question. Was she upset about the gift? Was she happy about it? Why didn’t this mating thing come with instruction manuals?

She lifted the lid, looked inside, then closed it again.

“Hey, miss, how much is the crock?” A man, who was very much too city for this place, had come in from the side. I hadn’t noticed him or if I did, I hadn’t paid any attention, but now that he was there, he had my beast pretty frustrated.

“It’s not for sale. It’s a family treasure.” She picked it up and hugged it to her. “I think there’s some crocks two rows over, about halfway down.”

And she turned from him, crock in hand, and set it on the chair behind her, completely dismissing the man. And when she turned around to face me again, she said to me, so quietly I wasn’t sure if I imagined it at first, “Okay. We can try.”

“Try? You mean—”

“Yeah. I mean, we can get to know each other. And you can court me.”

I gave her my number and those of the other two alphas. She gave me hers. We were going to do this.

“We either need to be on my packlands or I’m bringing my packmates with me.”

“Of course,” I said. “I would be shocked otherwise.”

She was pack. And pack was protected. At least, in any pack worth their salt.

“We’ll earn your trust,” I promised.

“I hope so,” she said. “I hope.”