Page 58 of The Beta's Blind Date

He smiles at me, a sigh leaving his mouth and his body relaxing. “Hi,” he says. “Follow me.”

He turns without another word and walks through the open door of the packhouse. I hesitate, my feet shuffling on the steps, before I follow him inside.

The interior of their packhouse is as warm and cozy as I’d imagined it would be based on the exterior. A roaring fire is lit inside the massive stone fireplace of the spacious living area, where wolves mingle and hang out, some reading, some playing games, and others chatting and laughing. I spot Maddie among them, and she waves at me, smiling, before turning her attention back to her friends.

I step towards the large sliding glass doors that lead out onto the back deck and the grounds, but Reid shakes his head and walks down the hall. “This way,” he says, beckoning me with his chin and leading the way.

I freeze in the doorway of a den on the main floor of their packhouse. Inside, a large, overstuffed couch is loaded with fluffy pillows and a large black blanket, and on the coffee table there are snacks galore—including cookies. I poke my head around the frame and spot a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, already on and prepped with something for us to watch.

“I thought you wanted to train?” I ask.

The entire setup screams movie night. And I’m standing here in my leggings and Nikes, the same style sports bra as yesterday under my boxy, cropped half-zip sweatshirt, since I know how much it affected him yesterday seeing me in that sports bra. My hair is piled on top of my head in twists, a gray head wrap at my hairline. I am one hundred percent dressed for a workout when that obviously is not what Reid has planned for us.

“The training fields are being used for our competition with Amber Forest for the rest of the day,” he says. “So we’re training like this instead.”

He plops onto the couch and grins at me, patting the spot next to him, his light blue eyes sparkling. His grin is eager and contagious, and I hesitate for a moment before I make my way over to him.

I anticipated working out with him, getting sweaty with him, and maybe practicing pinning him again, but the couch is cozy and inviting, and curling up next to him with a pillow and a fuzzy blanket is more appealing than sparring with him. Plus, he’s put quite a bit of effort into this whole setup—the pillows, the blanket, the snacks. Especially the snacks. He’s got chips and dip, cheese and crackers, fruit, pretzels, popcorn, cookies, gummy bears, and peanut M&Ms. It’s all a perfect mix of salty and sweet, a veritable charcuterie board of snacks.

It’s perfect. For a movie night. But not for training.

“I still don’t see how this is training,” I say as I sit next to him, toeing off my shoes. “Don’t get me wrong, I love movie night as much as the next girl, but movies do not equal training.”

“Who said we’re watching movies?”

He clicks the remote as I settle against the pillows, and, sure enough, instead of a movie, a video of a warrior competition plays.

“Oh,” I say, my lip sticking out in a pout and my brow furrowing.

He laughs, leaning into the corner of the couch and throwing his arm across the cushions. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic about it. Someone may think you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

I grab a pillow and fling it into his face, muffling his continued laughter. “Dickhead,” I say under my breath, snuggling further into the cushions, hugging the pillow to me.

“Nah. I think that title goes to your alpha. Or that male you went on a date with last night.”

His voice is light and teasing, but his eyes are dark, that sparkle from before gone, and locked on me. He tightens his jaw, and his hand grips the couch cushions.

I nod. “I can agree with you on that second one for sure.”

He swallows and sits straighter, leaning closer to me. “What happened?”

“He was rude. Didn’t listen to me when I told him I didn’t drink. Ordered a meal for me.”

“I did that,” he points out with a chuckle.

“No, you asked the chef to make something special for me. A chef you know and have a relationship with. You didn’t order a meal for us to share before I’d even arrived at the restaurant.”

He winces. “Yikes.”

“Then he implied I was overweight and complained that I didn’t drink the very expensive wine he bought for us, even though I told him I didn’t drink. And he had the gall to assume I would give him head or even sleep with him when the date was over. So I threw that glass of wine in his face and walked out without a second glance back at him.”

“Well, dickhead is too nice a name for him,” he growls, his hand gripping the couch tighter, his eyes darker than before. “I’m sorry you had to put up with that,” he adds, moving his hand to my shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.” He turns his head away from me, removes his hand from my body, and covers his mouth with his fist, a muscle in his jaw ticking. My wolf whimpers a little as his hand leaves my shoulder, but I keep going. “I didn’t even want to go on another date. Not yet, anyway. I wanted to focus on training for my challenge. But Dominic was being an ass, and I wanted to prove a point, so I set the date up while we were arguing after I invoked the challenge.”

He looks back at me, his face blank and unreadable. “He was here today. For the competition.”

“Who? Kent?” I ask, and he nods. “Yeah, he mentioned he was participating in it.”

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