Page 128 of The Beta's Blind Date

She nods and sniffles, wiping her eye with her sleeve. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear,” I say.

“No, it’s what I needed to hear. I needed to know I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

“You’re not. And you don’t have to deal with it alone. Not anymore. Not with me by your side.”

She lifts her head from my chest, and I look down at her. Her nose nuzzles against mine, sliding along the side of it, her eyes closing as our breath mixes. Our lips meet, her arm winding around my neck and clinging to me. The hint of salt on her mouth teases my tongue, and my wolf whines in my mind, provoking me, blaming me for her tears even though all I did was talk to her, even though the tears were there before I came into the living room.

“I think it’s all this holiday and Christmas stuff that reminded me of them,” she says, pulling away, answering my unspoken question. “I love it,” she adds, putting her hand over my heart. “I love that you did all this for me. My mom loved Christmas, and we always did stuff like this together and…” She takes in a deep breath and clears her throat, her head shaking.

“It’s summertime for me,” I say, rubbing my hand up and down her side. “Picnics, swimming in the lake, fresh fruit and fruit pies… it all makes me think of her.”

“I wish I could meet her,” she says.

I smile and turn my head to look out the window. The sky is a dark gray, heavy with clouds holding more snow, but the storm has paused for the time being.

I stand up and set her on the floor, removing the blanket from her body and leading her to the entry of the suite where our coats and shoes are. “I want to show you something,” I say, shoving my feet into my boots.

“What?”

“Just get your shoes and coat on and come with me.”

She slips her feet into her boots and tugs on the dark green coat she wore yesterday. I snatch the zipper before she can grab it, pinching it together and zipping it up to her neck, then I pull her in close by the collar and kiss the tip of her nose.

“Let’s go,” I say, taking her hand and leading her out of the room.

Our walk through the warm house and over the chilly grounds is quiet, neither of us talking, her hand held in mine a warm, physical reminder of our connection. The garden comes into view as the snow crunches under our feet, and I veer us towards the arched entrance, weaving around the beds until we get to the back corner, to my mom’s section of the garden.

Sparkling snow covers the peony bushes and the birdbath, but it’s still beautiful, still hers. Mine. Ours.

“This is pretty,” Taryn says, walking to the birdbath and swiping snow from its sunflower center.

“This was my mom’s garden,” I say.

She looks around at it, scanning the flower beds and the birdbath. “Was? But it’s still here and well kept.”

I nod and move to her side. “I come out here and tend to it when I can. In the summer, these two bushes will bloom with peonies, and over there,”—I point down the bed to one that runs perpendicular to the peonies—“over there we grow strawberries.”

“You garden too?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at me.

“Only in here, and only when I… need to feel like I’m with my mom.” She takes my hand again and squeezes it. “I talk to her sometimes when I’m here. Pretend she can hear me. I know it probably makes me sound crazy, but it helps.”

She nods. “I get it.”

“I told her about you,” I whisper.

Her face softens and her lips part. “You did?”

“I told her about you before I told anyone else. I told her how strong you are, and how I fucked everything up, and how I was going to fix it all and bring you here to meet her when I did.”

“Reid…” Her eyes water and she steps into me, her head resting against my chest as I wrap my arms around her and rock us side to side. “Thank you,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Thank you for bringing me here and sharing this with me.”

I hold her, swaying us, my lips pressing into the top of her head. Her sweet floral and fruity scent fills my nose, the promise of how the garden will smell in the summer when the flowers bloom and the fruit ripens. The beating of our hearts and the rhythm of our breaths keep time as a chill breeze flirts with us, reminding us that the storm has yet to pass.

And not just the winter storm hovering over the mountains, holding its breath until it decides to bombard us with more snow, ice, and wind, but also the threat of Dominic and the havoc he will wreak on us when or if we find him, and the threat of whatever it is Taryn needs to tell me. The thing she says could change everything.

It won’t, though. I hope she knows that. I need her to know that. There is nothing she can say that will keep me from claiming her, from marking her to make her mine forever. As much as I tried to deny it when I first found her, the truth was simple—I knew what our ending would be from the moment I realized she was my mate.

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