Chapter seven
Clay
The first hard frost is coming soon. If I didn’t have the extra tension in my shoulder telling me we have a cold snap coming, Mitch’s boundless enthusiasm would be all the alert I need.
It’s time to buy spring flower bulbs from Rick’s.
The café has a decent-sized planter built into the yellow stucco fronting that Mitch and I have carefully cultivated to nurture the bee population in town.
We grow gorgeous blooms of marigolds, wolfsbane, lavender, hyacinth, bluebells, and violets.
Every spring, it overflows with stunning blues and purples that pop off the yellow of the café.
Mitch saw the weather report first thing this morning and couldn’t wait to tell me.
His excitement was contagious, and I promised him I’d go to Rick’s as soon as he opened up.
I can’t wait to get my hands dirty digging through the soil.
For me, planting bulbs is like watching a well-laid plan come to fruition.
It gives me a sense of pride that I need.
We’d gotten a little swamped with a birding group, so I’m walking over thirty minutes later than I intended.
The sun is shining, but the air is much cooler than it was last week. Fall is setting in quicker than it did last year, and I’m excited about it. There are gorgeous hiking trails around Hallow’s Cove, and both of us prefer the crisp mountain air over the humid stuffy summers we get.
Across the street, the Art Centre is empty.
Maybe Roan’s sleep schedule has leveled out, so she hasn’t started her day yet.
I hope she’s getting enough rest. Mitch has been covertly watching her clear out all the junk for the past week.
It’s probably misplaced, but I’m proud of her for doing all this work by herself.
I only know what a brief internet search could tell me about her, but our Omega’s fucking brillant.
Fuck knows why she’s here and not showing at fancy galleries like she had been.
I even saw that one of her paintings sold for ten thousand pounds.
If that’s not famous, I don’t know what is.
I showed Mitch while we were watching reruns of Mated in Manhattan in bed last night, and his eyes had sparkled with excitement.
The Bookstore is closed as expected when I cross the road, and the shop next to it has been boarded up for a little while now.
It’s not a good look for there to be empty shops on Main Street.
It was bad enough that the Art Centre was empty and one of the last buildings before you headed up the mountain. But right dead centre in town?
Not good for business.
Maybe Rick will buy it up and expand his hardware store.
He’s young and ambitious. He’s good friends with Barnaby, and I like him well enough when I see him.
With the hours I work, I don’t deal with a lot of people the way other shop owners do.
Mitch has been the face of Cool Beans since we took over, and that’s for the better.
A bell chimes overhead when I walk through the door, and I’m immediately hit with the scent of blueberries. Roan’s low voice carries softly through the store as she laughs at something. My heart stutters, and when I see Rick leaning over her, his hand brushing against her wrist, I see red.
My lips pull back, the hair underneath my sweatshirt rises, and a growl rises up inside me like it never has before. It rips through their soft conversation and makes them both look at me. For a second too long, Rick’s hand doesn't move away from my Omega.
I step forward with every primal intention of just biting his fucking head off. I inhale sharply, and that tangy blueberry scent filling the air has gone all syrupy sweet. Roan looks at me with wide, hungry eyes for a moment, before pressing her lips firmly together.
“Sorry, sorry. I'll come back another time,” she apologises, running down a different aisle.
As the chime over the door innocently jingles, I blink. The clouded, feral feeling in my chest swirls down to my stomach like rotten milk.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Rick says incredulously, leaning against his counter.
He's a big guy, taller than me, but I imagine we’re close in weight. Definitely a more age-appropriate partner for Roan. But fuck me. She is our Omega. Ours. He shouldn't be making a move on our mate.
“Why were you flirting with her?” I counter instead of just speaking plainly. “She's here for a job.”
He snorts, “We’re all adults here, Clay. I think she can have a bit of fun too.”
“Not with you,” I growl again, pointing a finger at him.
He stands up taller, squaring up against me, and all those Alpha traits I keep locked down start bubbling up.
My fists curl up and I bare my teeth, ready to fight someone I almost consider a friend.
But he was touching my Omega. She doesn’t need anyone else except the pack she has at home, ready to wait on her hand and foot.
Rick huffs, his nostrils flaring. I could take him. I might not win, but I wouldn't lose either. We'd both end up bruised and stupid-looking and…
“Shit,” I back up, even if my instincts are telling me otherwise. “Shit, fuck, I'm sorry. I'm being real fucking outta line.”
“No shit, Sherlock. What the fuck is going on with you?”
I drag my hands across my face and smooth back my ears.
Gods fucking damn it. Should I tell Rick?
There isn’t any other white lie coming to my mind right now, but I can’t have the whole damn town gossiping about us.
Roan hasn’t even come back to the shop since that first morning.
We’ve just been watching her like a pair of creeps.
“Cat got your tongue, Clay?” Rick taunts, posture still up and ready to fight me.
There is no part of me afraid of a fight.
I know what it feels like to get hit by a Minotaur, barreling down the field at full tilt just because you’re holding a ball.
But I am not that kind of Alpha. I’m not ruled by the toxic ideas my parental pack tried to teach me.
There is nothing wrong with being open about my feelings. I can trust Rick.
“No. I just got territorial when I came in, and that was wrong to you and her. I'm real sorry, Rick. It was uncalled for.”
He crosses his arms, and I wouldn't blame him for not accepting my apology.
“She’s not an object. She can flirt and do whoever she wants.”
“I know, I know.” I swallow the lump in my throat. I’ve got to actually say the words so we can put this to bed. “Mitch and I believe Roan is our fated mate, to complete our pack.”
There’s a beat of silence. Rick’s hard features soften into something tired, and maybe a little sad. It doesn’t last before he plasters on a look that’s more exasperated.
“Tsk, course she is. Of course. You know, there isn't a human in town who hasn't been fated to someone. I don't get it.”
“We don't really get it either,” I offer. “But I know for Wolven, we can smell it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I smelled how fucking hot she got for your strong guy bullshit.” He waves a hand at me and walks back behind the counter.
“Humans are different, and confusing.”
“That's what makes them fun,” he smirks. “Now what can I do for you?”
***
With supplies bulging out of my tote bag and Roan's abandoned sketchbook in my hand, I head back to the café.
The street is busier now that it's lunchtime, and I have to awkwardly weave through people.
I hate crowds. I hate feeling like I'm being rushed down the sidewalk by other people.
I just want to be back in my kitchen where I belong.
I drop my bag near the welcome mat and customer coat rack, clutching our Omega's book to my chest like it's a prized possession.
A part of me desperately wants to look inside, but I don't want to overstep or invade her privacy.
Is her sketchbook like my box of recipe cards?
Secrets meant only for those who are worthy?
Mitch hands a customer a large latte with a foam coffee bean design on the top as I round the counter. He looks at me for a moment before following right behind me into the kitchen. I'm in a fucking trance as I stand on the other side of my large steel table.
“Whatchya got there, big guy?” he asks.
“I growled at Rick,” I murmur, before launching into a full rundown of what happened this morning. He listens, taking his glasses off when I try to explain how feral I felt, and how worried I am about what that means for our potential pack.
“You aren't the Alpha that raised you,” he says. “And it sounds like our little Omega didn't mind the show.”
“Does that make it worse? That she wants a kind of mate I'm not?” I frown, staring at her sketchbook at our table. The smell of graphite and blueberries wafts from it, reminding me of the first sunny day after a long winter.
“Maybe we should move up our plan.” Mitch wraps his paw around mine and kisses my cheek. “The first step to forever is just right across the street.”
“Let's finish out the day, and go speak to her then.”