Page 18 of Wooded Bliss

“Thank you, Thatcher,” the way she says my name feels like she’s running her hand through my bear’s fur. From the way he rumbles his approval, I’m not the only one who feels that way. “I accept your apology.”

With a nod, I find a smile lifting my lips. A real one. It’s not something that happens all that often, but I shouldn’t be surprised Birdie is the one making me smile.

“Mate is perfect,”my bear hums contentedly.

Birdie’s eyes darken as her gaze focuses on my mouth. Does she want to kiss me? It would be rude to haul her against my chest and press my lips to hers. Wouldn’t it?

I’m not sure what to do and run my fingers through my hair to stop myself from giving into the fantasy of slamming my mouth down onto hers. “I guess,” I try and search for any other reason to stay, but I come up with nothing, “that’s all I wanted to come over and say. Thank you for forgiving me. I promise not to be an asshole the next time we see each other.”

I’m already making plans to see her again, but I keep that part to myself. There’s no need to come off like a stalker so soon. She doesn’t need to know I plan to be out behind her house every night to watch over her. She doesn’t need to know I’m considering becoming a regular customer at her flower shop.

“It almost sounds like you’re going to come into Whispering Pines so we can see each other,” her eyebrows furrow in the most adorable way as she tilts her head to the side and studies me.

“Maybe,” I hedge, “that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Why?”

Well. Fuck.

I wasn’t expecting her to call me out. My mouth opens and closes a few times, but the longer I look at Birdie the more I realize she’s genuinely curious as to why I would want to see her. She’s not calling me out and her question has nothing to do with my behavior yesterday.

Without thought, I take a step closer to her. My toes are almost touching hers and I loom over her. I can only hope it makes her feel safe and not intimidated. She cranes her neck back to look up at me and I stare into her blue eyes, thankful as fuck when I don’t see fear there.

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

She shrugs, but I can see her nerves as she nibbles on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. We don’t know each other and have never been friends,” her face scrunches up as if considering us friends leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

Mine fucking too. One day I will be her friend, her best fucking friend, but first and foremost I’ll be her mate.

“Oh, so you’re willing to accept our mate and not push her away like a fucking moron,”my bear snarls, but there’s no real heat behind the words. I’m sure being face to face with Birdie is helping to quell the anger my bear feels toward me.

“Birdie,” I rasp, “I’m sorry. When we were younger, the last thing I focused on was girls. I wanted to do well in school and make my parents proud. Then,” I pause, unable to get the words out and shake my head instead. “It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me being a blind fucking fool.”

Her blue eyes are wide and round as she blinks up at me. I shouldn’t kiss her, but I can’t seem to help myself. My lips press against her forehead, and she lets out a small gasp when she feels the tingles of the mate bond between us.

The pull won’t be as strong for her, but the tingles are something she can’t deny or ignore. They’ll get stronger when we mate and mark. My cock likes the idea very fucking much, but I try and get myself under control. I don’t want to scare her.

Easier said than done.

“Do you want to come in for dinner?” After she blurts out her question, she jerks back from me as if surprised she asked.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I don’t hesitate to tell her, “I’d love to.”

She ushers me into her home after opening the door wider. I don’t give her a wide berth. No, I make sure to slide my body against hers as I walk by.

I can almost taste her arousal in the air which tells me something very important. She wants me just as much as I want her.

“Mate and mark her,”my bear growls.

Since I’m distracted by being in my mate’s home, I don’t bother responding. It’s hard enough to keep my own desires under control. I don’t need him to make this even more difficult.

As she serves spaghetti with meatballs, the tension between us is thick and awkward. I’ve never tried talking to females before, never saw the need since they weren’t my mate. Now it is my mate and I’m at a loss.

“Birdie,” I rack my brain for anything to get her talking so I can hear her voice again, “will you tell me about your shop?”

Her face lights up and I relax slightly. As she starts to tell me about Blooms Happen, I can feel the joy coming from her. With one question, it’s as if some of the wall between us crumbles and the tension, while still there, isn’t as oppressive.

I find myself chatting with her instead of feeling the need to hide myself away. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in years, but I welcome it. Maybe she can help me heal.

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