Page 92 of The Beta's Blind Date

I turn to Blake and show her the letter. Her eyes grow larger as she reads it, and her brows raise as she reaches the end. “Well, now I need to know what he wrote to her!” she says.

I nod. “Same.”

I glance around the crowded tent, peeking through the bodies seated in gold Chiavari chairs and looking over the lush green and white centerpieces, glancing at the framed letters held within each. My eyes skate over each table until they reach the table where Reid sits, now alone, his attention turned towards where his alpha and luna pose for photos as they prepare to cut their cake.

My lips twitch and a lightbulb goes off. “Let’s split up,” I say, whipping my head to Blake. “You take that half”—I nod towards the tables on our right—“and I’ll take the other half, and whoever finds the first letter mindlinks so we can read it together.”

“Solid plan,” Blake agrees. “Ready? Break!”

I chuckle and stand, leaving my blanket behind and making my way to the first table on my left. Her silver minidress catches the light of the candles and fairy lights inside the tent, and I laugh louder as I notice her shadow—Dawson—following her through the tables, speed-walking to catch up with her.

I turn from them, shaking my head, and lean over the now empty table and lift the letter from the centerpiece.

“Dear Pen Pal,

Hello.

My name is Wesley. I am twelve years old, and I am in sixth grade at Crescent Lake Elementary in Northern California.

I’ll be honest, I am only writing this letter because my teacher said we have to. She said if we don’t, we’ll get an F, and I am not about to fail an assignment and ruin my track record of perfect grades. Plus, my dad would probably ground me or something.

Anyway, I don’t really want a pen pal. I have friends here at school already, so why would I need to become friends with somebody who doesn’t even live here, someone I’ll never actually meet?…”

I groan and bite my lip as I read the rest. I’m glad I found it, but I don’t want Dominic to know. That would ruin my plan.

“I found it,”I mindlink Blake.“But pretend I haven’t yet. I’m trying to do something.”

She lifts her eyes from the letter she reads and scans the crowd, pausing for a second before putting her eyes back on the letter in her hands.“Of course.”She smirks.“Go get your Cookie Monster.”

I roll my eyes but set the letter back on the table, and continue on my way, meandering through the reception tent, pausing at each table to read the letter on it as I make my way to Reid. His eyes are on me as I walk, burning into my skin, waking up the butterflies in my stomach, and capturing the attention of my wolf. I try not to glance at him, though, try to keep my perusal of the letters as casual as I can in case anyone else is watching me.

In case Dominic is watching me.

I pause at the table right next to his, taking a longer moment to read the letter there, even though it’s the shortest one of the lot. My journey through the tent has taken less time than I thought since most of the guests have moved to the cake table to witness the happy couple slice into it and share a bite of cake together, and because my wolf is just as eager to reach Reid as I am, giving me extra spurts of energy and speed.

“Dear Pen Pal,

Will you marry me?”

I make a mental note to get the complete story of Wesley’s proposal to Haven at some point because I’m sure it’s extra cheesy and romantic. But right now, I have a goal, and it doesn’t include listening to the entirety of someone else’s love story.

No, my goal is to continue my own love story. Mine and Reid’s.

I reach his table and walk straight up to him, gesturing towards the letter in the center. “Can I read it?” I ask.

He stands and grabs it, holding it out for me. “Of course.”

I step closer, grabbing it, but instead of letting go, he keeps hold of it between us, stepping into my side. His other hand goes to the small of my back, blocked from everyone’s view by the floral centerpiece at his table. I turn my body into his, and he moves his face closer to mine until his nose almost brushes my skin as I read the letter in our hands.

“Dear Sugar Plum,

I’m sorry. Again. I failed you. Again. I keep failing you, keep almost losing you.

But not again. I’m not losing you again.

I know you don’t fully comprehend what it means to be mates, what the mate bond means to wolves, but I’m going to show you. It’s not just a magical connection that tells me I have to be with you. It’s more than that…”

“This is probably the cheesiest and yet most romantic idea for centerpieces I think I’ve ever seen,” I say after I finish reading the letter.

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