Page 13 of Meadowsweet and Marigold (EverAfter CozyXverse #1)

The silence stretches between them, filled only with the soft sounds of horses shifting in their stalls and the distant call of birds outside.

Meadow knows not to rush her. He recognizes the weight of consideration in her stillness, the careful calculation behind those guarded eyes.

The decision should be hers alone.

Many in his position — an Alpha with resources offering help to an Omega in need — would press the advantage, rush her choice to satisfy their own instincts for immediate resolution.

He simply waits.

Sunlight filters through the barn's high windows, casting golden rectangles across the hay-strewn floor. Marigold's slender fingers continue tracing patterns on Willow's forehead, her movements precise and deliberate — the muscle memory of a dancer evident even in this simple gesture.

"I don't want charity," she finally says, her voice quiet but firm.

"It's not charity. It's an exchange." He meets her gaze steadily. "You need something to do. I need help with the horses. They respond well to Omegas. Always have."

She arches an eyebrow.

"And you're fine working alongside an Omega? Most Alphas prefer to keep their distance...unless for ‘other’ incentives."

Of course. Most Alphas think with their cocks and not with their brains.

Can I really blame them? It’s in our genetic makeup, but I’ve never quite been like the rest of the "pack of Alphas” in our grand society.

"I'm not most Alphas." The words come out rougher than intended, and he clears his throat. "This is my land. My rules. Out here, what matters is the work and treating the animals right."

Willow nudges Marigold's hand, seeking more attention.

A ghost of a smile flickers across her face — brief, but genuine.

"I can't make any long-term commitments," she warns, which sounds as if she’s trying to convenience herself more than me. "I don't know how long I'm staying in Willowbend."

"Day by day is fine." He gestures toward the length of the stable. "No contracts. No obligations. You decide when you come and when you go. No strings attached."

Hope I remember that.

I need to in order for this to work.

Whatever this is…

Her shoulders relax imperceptibly.

"And payment?"

"We can work something out. Fair wage for fair work."

It’s not as if she probably needs a high wage in Willowbend when everything is genuinely priced to feed our little community, but he wouldn’t be ripping her off in the slightest.

He’d pay her double of what she’d offer, to ensure she has more than enough to feed herself as well as purchase whatever she needs here.

At least, until he could potentially aid in some departments…

A breeze drifts through the open barn doors, carrying the scent of wild grasses and freedom.

Marigold takes a deep breath, and Meadow can almost see the calculations happening behind her eyes — weighing risk against reward, independence against connection.

The conviction sparkled in those stunning eyes of hers, filled with golden warmth with twinkles of sunset and chestnut browns.

"I'd like to start tomorrow," she says finally, her voice gaining a hint of resolve. "If that works for you."

Relief washes through Meadow, though he keeps his expression neutral.

"Seven AM. Nothing too early."

A small laugh escapes her — the sound so unexpected it startles them both.

"I used to be at the barre by five every morning. Seven is practically sleeping in." She looks pleased with the new time frame and makes me wonder how strenuous was her career in the realms of dance.

He nods, filing away this glimpse into her former life.

"Bring clothes you don't mind getting dirty. Sturdy boots if you have them."

I see the slight pout in her lips at the mention of boots, to which I add.

“I can also provide those if you won’t manage to grab any today.”

She grins at that, looking relieved that it won’t be used against her for the lack of something as simple as boots. The autumn sunlight catches in her auburn hair as she tilts her head, studying him with those cautious green eyes.

"I've never worked with horses before," she admits. "I should probably mention that."

"They'll teach you what you need to know." Meadow runs a hand along Willow's neck, the mare leaning into his touch. "Horses are honest creatures. No hidden agendas, no lies. They respond to energy more than experience."

Marigold's gaze drifts down to her hands — the elegant fingers of a dancer now fidgeting with uncertainty.

"And if they don't like me?"

"They'll like you."

That’s given. I can tell without even thinking about it.

Her eyebrows draw together.

"How can you be so sure?"

Meadow considers his words carefully, knowing instinctively that platitudes won't work with her.

"Because animals recognize kindness. And pain." He meets her eyes directly. "They know when someone understands what it means to be hurt."

Something shifts in her expression — surprise, perhaps, at being seen so clearly, followed by a flicker of connection that vanishes almost instantly behind her carefully constructed walls.

"Seven o'clock," she repeats, taking a step back. "I should get going. Thank you for...this." She gestures vaguely around the stable.

"No need for thanks. We'll see how it goes." He deliberately keeps his tone casual, sensing her need for escape, for processing space.

Marigold hesitates, seeming to search for something else to say, then simply nods and turns, walking with that precise, measured grace toward the stable doors.

Meadow watches her leave, the fading scent of rain-soaked wildflowers lingering in her wake.

Only when her form disappears around the bend does he exhale fully, the tension in his shoulders releasing.

"What do you think, girl?" he murmurs to Willow, who snorts softly in response. "Yeah. Me too."

She’s going to be a keeper…now I have to figure out how long I can last.