Page 113 of The Beta's Blind Date

A mate. A baby. My pack—or, I guess, former pack—attacked and its future uncertain, hanging in the balance as we wait out the storm. But the first two are the two weighing me down the most.

I know what I need to do. I just need to figure out how to do it. And when to do it.

Do I tell him now and risk our already tenuous bond? Or do I wait, feel him out, and risk a worse heartbreak when he learns the truth?

There’s a knock at the door, and it yanks me out of the thoughts dragging me down more and more.

I get up from the uncomfortable couch, sighing in relief. Visitors are low on my list of priorities this evening, but I’m grateful for the reprieve for my ass. I rub the tender muscle as I cross the living area and open the door. Maya stands there, a basket in her arms. Her dark coils are piled on top of her head with a yellow satin scrunchie, and her brown eyes are warm and welcoming.

“Oh, hey, Maya,” I say, leaning against the frame.

She smiles and holds the basket out to me. “This is for you.” I take it from her and look through the items inside. “Your ma—” My eyes flick up to her, and she winces and clears her throat. “Ithought you might need some girly, self-care supplies since your packhouse went up in flames, and there’s no way you can get to a store or get things shipped to you in this weather.”

I chuckle a little, eyeing the unopened pink satin bonnet and the white satin pillowcase nestled between various hair care products.

“I wasn’t sure exactly what products you prefer to use since your hair type is slightly different than mine. But these are yours to keep. Or, if you want, you can come see what else I have and take what you need until you can order whatever it is you prefer to use.”

“Are the snickerdoodles from you, too?” I ask, lifting a Tupperware of warm cookies.

“The what?” She moves towards me and looks at the dish in my hand. “How did those get in there?”

I breathe in through my nose, and, sure enough, I detect the hint of Christmas trees mixing with the cinnamon cookies. My lips twitch and my wolf nudges me, urging me to move. I lean forward and poke my head out the door, turning to my left, where Reid stands flat against the wall as if he’s trying to melt into it or let it swallow him.

He grimaces as my eyes land on him. “Those are from me,” he says, glancing at the cookies.

“You made them?” He nods, and I give him a small smile as I tuck them back into the basket. “They look delicious.”

His shoulders sag, and he relaxes, no longer trying to hide from me. We stare at each other in silence, our reticent glances saying more than any words could, and I find I’m not mad at him anymore. How can I be when I can feel how much he means every word he said to me in the hospital? How can I be mad when I’m keeping something from him, too?

“The gift basket was his idea, too,” Maya says, and I turn to look at her, breaking my staring contest with Reid. “I mean, I picked all the supplies out for you, but he came to me and asked me to help him put this together for you since he knows nothing about hair care.” Her eyes flick behind me to Reid, and her hand moves up to hide her growing smirk. I look at Reid again, and his eyes are narrowed on Maya. “I’ll see you both later,” she says, her footsteps fading down the hall as I keep watching Reid.

“Traitor!” he calls to her retreating back.

I laugh and shake my head, turning to set the basket on the small table by the door of the suite. “Thank you,” I say as I step back into the hallway.

He swallows and runs his hand through his hair, his other hand going into the pocket of his sweats. “I just wanted you to feel…” He swallows again, looking at the ceiling, his lips pressing together.

“At home?” I finish for him, and he nods.

We stand there, facing each other, the distance between us a vast canyon. His hand at his side twitches, and my wolf whines in my mind, her nose in the air as whiffs of his scent float towards me.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he says, breaking the silence. “You can text—or, I guess you can’t since your phone is missing. Um…” He scratches his chin, thinking.

“I’ll let you know,” I say.

“Okay.”

He turns to leave, and before I can think about it, I reach out and grab his hand. My eyes close, and I inhale sharply at the glittering tingles spreading across my palm and shooting up my arm to my heart. I drop it as fast as I grabbed it, my heart clenching as soon as I lose contact with his skin.

I blow out a breath. “Sorry.”

“You can touch me whenever you want.”

I peek at him through my eyelashes, and he’s moved closer to me, his arms crossed, his biceps straining against the sleeves of his T-shirt, and his eyes twinkling with amusement as he stares down at me.

I sigh and roll my eyes, hiding the desire in them, hiding my ogling of his muscles and his handsome face. Not that it matters since he can sense every emotion through our bond and can scent even the slightest hint of arousal between my legs.

“I meant I’m sorry I dropped your hand,” I say. “I’m not used to the feel of the bond. Not like you are,” I add, looking up at him.

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