Page 6 of Shopping for His Omega (Omegas of Oliver Creek #15)
Maverick
The Oliver Creek fall festival was my favorite event of the year.
It marked the end of summer but also the glorious beginning of autumn.
While some people thrived under the blazing sun, I bloomed with cooler temperatures and all my favorite foods.
Colors, as well. The jewel tones of fall made me feel cozy and not on edge like the sharper summer.
It was a sentiment I’d never been able to convey to anyone else without getting wide-eyed, confusing looks.
I hadn’t received a loaf of banana bread in my mailbox this morning.
It was the first time in a long time I hadn’t had some with my morning coffee.
I had no doubt the lack had something to do with Danny and our tiff the other night.
It was just banana bread, but its absence sparked even more loneliness.
Silly rabbit, leaning so heavily on the emotional boost of a sweet treat in my mailbox.
The whole debacle still perplexed me. How did Danny know that someone was dropping off the bread in my mailbox?
Had he seen them? Gideon, the owner of Barely Baked made loaves sometimes, but they didn’t have the flair of the ones gifted to me, though everything in that bakery was beyond divine.
Plus, I would know by scent if it was Gideon or even his mate Kelly.
PB&J didn’t do quick breads.
The only way Danny could know was if…
Could it be him? I had to admit, I had hoped it was some secret crush and that one day they would reveal themselves and we would live happily ever after. Me and my silly fantasies.
Reality had slapped me in the face. Though my omega rabbit called out for him and craved his embrace, the smallest of touch from him the other night proved that we were dead wrong about even the hint that he was our alpha.
He got so angry. And while he didn’t call me names or say anything that hurt my feelings, it was clear the wolf didn’t want anything to do with me.
The way he bid me good night sent shivers down my spine, and not the good kind.
Oliver Creek’s fall festival was a thing for post cards. Tourists came in, and I’d heard there were YouTube videos boasting of our festivities. If it weren’t for the limited space here in town, this place could become a city in the blink of an eye.
“Morning, Maverick,” someone called out and waved.
It was Mr. Bryant, a cup of pumpkin cider in his hand and a sparkle in his eye.
He came over to stand next to me while we waited for the mayor to speak.
There had been rumors that he was ready to retire, though everyone thought he was doing an excellent job.
Still, with the boasting of tourism came issues, and Mayor Brent wasn’t getting any younger.
“I’m looking forward to the children’s choir,” Mr. Bryant said next to me.
“They are pretty cute.”
“You want kids?” he asked, staring at the stage and sipping cider. Someone brought a microphone stand out and tested the mic.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Daniel walk to stand a few feet from me. For a breath of time, I thought maybe he would come over and speak to me, but someone else approached him and started a conversation.
“Yes,” I answered. “I would love to have a bunch of kids, actually.”
The older man chuckled. “That’s rare lately. Most people want small families.”
“They have their reasons,” I said as the mayor of Oliver Creek got on stage. He fixed his tan suit and ran a hand through his thinning hair.
He looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes. A listlessness in his stare. I knew what he was going to announce before he approached the mic.
Oliver Creek officially needed a new mayor. The election would be next month. Not a lot of time to campaign, but we all knew each other here, so a leader would emerge from among us. I couldn’t imagine the people around me, our community, going head-to-head like national elections.
A folksy band took the stage and began playing. They were good, but my nose caught the scent of caramel popcorn and other goodies. Plus, I could still hear the band from the other booths, so I bid goodbye to my pumpkin-cider-sipping friend and followed my senses.
Maybe I was hoping a little too much, but I could swear, for the rest of the festival, that Danny’s eyes were on me.
I’d spotted him a few times talking to others.
Once eating a corn dog. Man, if I could get him to look at me like he did that chili-and-cheese corn dog, that might make all my dreams come true.
I forced myself to have a good time, despite the heaviness of what had transpired between us.
I guessed at the number of jelly beans in the jar and, although I was only an alternate on the board for choosing the best pumpkin of the season, was invited to cast my vote.
The winner was a farmer from outside the county, but we claimed him as one of our own.
Before I left, I opted for a dozen apple cider mini donuts and took my time leaving, hoping, wishing, that Danny would come over and talk to me.
And not to fight.
By the time I got home, full of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove, I was even more disappointed. He was there and didn’t talk to me, not that I gave him any reason to.
I could’ve gone over myself and talked to him, but the last thing I wanted to do was try to push a connection that clearly wasn’t there.
If I knew who made me banana bread, I would politely ask them to stop. The next loaf wouldn’t taste as sweet after what Danny said.
I decided to busy myself with meal prep instead of fretting any longer.
My mind was in a loop of unanswered questions and what-ifs and, more than anything, the ramblings of my brain were driving me to madness.
By the time the night was over, I’d meal-prepped for the next two weeks and stored everything.
Done all my laundry, including the comforters and dish towels.
I went outside and sat on the back porch, breathing in the autumn air. It smelled different to my rabbit. The chill was welcoming instead of off-putting.
We rabbits didn’t hibernate. We grew thicker fur. Acclimated to the temperature over time. Foraged food at all times of the year. My human side followed suit, getting hardier during the winter. I often put on a few pounds, as most humans did, but blamed it on my rabbit being extra snacky.
It was me. I was snacky.
When I could no longer keep my eyelids open, I went to bed more defeated than ever. If Danny wasn’t my mate, I hoped my real one showed up soon. This longing was the worst.