Page 25 of Talk About… History

She gave us both a quick goodbye and bustled out, leaving us alone again. Tension sparked in the air as I moved closer, taking my seat again.

“She’s a character,” I offered. It was an attempt to avoid awkwardness.

“I hope to have half as much charisma when I’m her age,” Cohen agreed. “She talk you into the mead?”

“You talked me into it, she just helped me pick the right flavor,” I said, sliding it toward him.

“It’s on the house. Call it payment for the interview,” he offered. He was being sweet, but there was no way I was letting that happen.

My eyes narrowed as I tried to figure out how to nicely argue with him, but he read it on my face and held his hands up. “Sorry, sorry, if you want to pay, you can.”

I softened at that. He scanned the bottle and rang up the price, letting me pay without further argument.

“Thanks,” I said. “I just don’t want to cost the business money.”

That and I had an insane need to be independent. I wasn’t ready for that conversation yet so I just offered a smile and took the wrapped bottle.

“No problem,” he said, not prying. “Any other questions for me?”

I laughed softly. “Only about a million.”

Cohen

Long after Avery left she still lingered in my thoughts. More than that, she’d invaded my senses. I could picture her smile, hear her laugh, and breathe in her intoxicating smell. Her scent was a perfect mix of tart and sweet, cranberries, fig, and a hint of warm spice like a winter cider.

Her questions today were great, and I had no doubt that my mate, as timid as she was, would make the videos look incredible.

We were more comfortable around each other now, but I wasn’t sure if she was ready for me to ask her out on a date.

Though, I already had a list of ideas ready and waiting for when she was. Until then, we could be friends… if friends flirted.

I wanted my intentions clear. Being in the friend-zone was not an option.

As I walked inside my old house I was greeted by the padding of paws on the hardwood. My sweet beagle girls were ready to greet me, though they had to stretch and yawn first. Clearly, they’d had a long day of hunting in the backyard and napping on our couch.

“Hey, girls,” I greeted, crouching down to scratch them both behind the ears, earning some howls and prancing, begging for their evening treats. “I met the woman who is going to be your mom one day.”

They perked up as if they knew what I was saying. Or more likely because I stood up. Lola and Molly were already ready for more treats and knew I’d be cooking dinner, which was of course, their favorite thing to watch me do.

My uncle had just gotten them before his accident left him in that rehab facility. My aunt said he couldn’t take calls and they were strict on visitors, but I sent him letters nearly every week, hoping that someone was reading to him.

My parents never really understood our connection. My mom and her brother were like night and day. She was proper and he was rough around the edges, her tongue was sharp and he always stayed unbothered.

I missed him.

At least the pups were a way to feel close to him, to treat them like he always treated me.

The old farmhouse had never felt so lonely. Now that I knew I had a mate, and a potential pack in the works, it felt far too big and silent.

Needing some kind of connection, I decided to call up my aunt and check in, see if my uncle had any progress.

“Call Aunt Clara,” I called out to my smart device, so I could talk and putter around my kitchen. I had skipped lunch and was starving, but not really feeling like cooking.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she answered on the first ring.

“Hello, Aunt Clara. Any word on Uncle Glenn? I haven’t heard from you in a bit.”

She hummed, the sound sad and foreboding. “He was doing a bit better then caught a nasty cold so he had a little setback. The doctors are keeping him hydrated and medicated, but he is looking pretty frail now.”

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