Page 144 of The Beta's Blind Date

I climb the steps and walk to the door, but Reid stops me from entering the house, blocking my path.

“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning away from him and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I have to carry you over the threshold.”

I protest, but he lifts me in his arms, cradling me to his chest, and I squeak and cling to his neck, laughter bubbling out of me. My braids swing as he spins us around and steps into the house, holding me tight against his body and not letting me go.

The entry has a long console table under a mirror, and within it, I catch a glimpse of us, of Reid and I together, our marks visible and on display for everyone to see, an unmatched and unfettered joy gleaming in our eyes and on our faces. I look up at him, and my breath catches in my throat at the intensity of love and happiness in him as he stares into my face.

The day has been rough. For both of us. And yet he’s here with a smile on his face and light in his heart, moving ahead with our life together instead of dwelling on the past; the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. The strength it takes to push through, to become the male he is now instead of someone else is impressive, as what he’s faced would have broken a lesser male.

And I’m filled with pride because he’s all mine.

He sets me on my feet but keeps my body close, his hands settling on my hips as his mouth finds mine. His muscular body towers over me, his broad shoulders curving in and forming a protective shell, keeping me safe within the circle of his arms. The kiss is soft, yet my toes curl in my boots, my body arching against his, hormones racing and desire pulsing through me from our lips moving together.

He pulls away, forehead touching mine, eyes closed as he catches his breath. He gives my hips a squeeze and then looks at me, smiling.

“I’ll bring everything in from the truck. You explore our new home.”

I nod and reach up to kiss him once more before stepping away and moving further into our new home as he makes his way back outside.

The space is small, clean, and mostly white, but the white doesn’t detract from the overall homey feel of the house. The dark hardwood floors offset the bright walls, cabinetry, and furniture, and the crisp lemon scent of the cleaning solutions used on the interior mixes with the snow and pine leaking in from outside through the cracked windows. It’s a beautiful house, and a perfect blank space for us to make ours.

Our home.

I turn away from the living areas and walk down the hallway, peeking into the three rooms there. The first room I look inside is empty, with a large window complete with a window seat overlooking the backyard. I picture it covered with pillows and blankets, picture Reid sitting there with our daughter in his lap, reading her a story or watching the first snow as it falls in winter.

I smile at that image and close the door, moving to the room across the hall.

I open the door and peek inside, and I’m surprised to find not a bedroom, but another dance studio. Unlike the professional one in the packhouse basement, however, this one looks pieced together, like a child designed it.

“Ah, I see you found the first dance studio Wesley made for Haven?” Reid says, looking over my shoulder.

In the mirrors, I see his arms are almost overflowing with items we brought over from my guest suite in the packhouse.

“How many has he built her?” I ask.

“Oh, Goddess, at least four? There is the one in the packhouse basement, one in their new house, and one over on the other side of the pack town. But this was the first one, the one he built by himself. Well, mostly by himself. I helped.”

“You helped?”

“Yes. I went around to pack members and asked them for their mirrors,” he explains, nodding at the wall of closet mirrors mounted side-by-side to create one giant mirror. “Wesley was going to replace it with an actual dance studio mirror, but Haven wanted to keep it the way he designed it. And of course, I felt that was a wise decision since I put so much effort into finding all those mirrors.”

“Well, we’ll have to keep it like this, then,” I say, feeling guilty about tearing any of this room apart to create something else. “Maybe Haven can teach Sour Patch?”

Reid’s eyes light up and he leans in to kiss my cheek. “You called her Sour Patch.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs and we walk into the last room, the master suite. It’s a large room with high ceilings and enormous picture windows bordering a luxurious sitting area, complete with an overstuffed couch that looks way cozier than the concrete abomination in my guest suite. There is also an attached bathroom with a beautiful tiled shower, and a walk-in closet with built-in shelving.

I pull my boots off and head straight for the couch, yawning and plopping down on it, sinking into the plush softness of the white fabric. Reid putters around the room, depositing items in places he thinks they should go, before he makes his way to me, my pillow with the satin pillowcase in one hand and one of his T-shirts in the other.

“Here,” he says, handing them to me. “I’ll get the rest of the stuff out of the truck and let you rest.”

“I can help,” I say as another yawn hits me.

“I’ve got it, Taryn,” he insists. “I’ll get everything squared away so you can relax, and then I’ll join you.”

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