Page 47 of Strawberry Moon

My grandfather had always seen me as a burden and a disappointment. Nothing I’d done had ever been good enough for him.

One boyfriend after another had always been more interested in the company, the legacy, or the money than in me. The few times I’d managed to meet someone who hadn’t known who I was, they’d lost interest in no time flat.

I wasn’t the kind of guy people cared about. Andy had been the only one to stick around for any amount of time, and he had a wife and kids who came first. Not that I had a problem with that, just... I’d never been the most important person to anyone.

But that couldn’t matter. I had important things to do. I had a theory to test with Cliff, and samples that I had high hopes for.

“You’ve gone about this all wrong,” my grandfather’s nonexistent ghost informed me, rearing its ugly head from the depths of my subconscious. “A real scientist would have made sure the pheromones worked first, and then tried to pretty it up with scent later.”

And he was right.

But also, he was wrong. He wasn’t a werewolf. He hadn’t lived with a werewolf nose the way I had for the last six months. He didn’t realize that the perfect chemical profile wouldn’t mean a damn thing if it also offended the alpha’s sensitive noses.

Yeah, maybe I was coming at it from the wrong angle, scientifically speaking. But I wasn’t only a scientist anymore. I was biased. I was in the thick of things.

It was with all that running through my head that I clutched my latest batch of samples close and headed for my car, and for Grovetown.

Even if it was right, even if it was perfect for Cliff, and helped him curb his wilder instincts, we had a long road ahead of us. A much wider trial and error with werewolves everywhere, when Sterling and all it stood for was the last group they should trust, and they damn well knew it. Like with Ford, I’d have to start with convincing them I wasn’t my grandfather, or the board.

The meeting with the senator and Linden had been a good start, but there was so much left to do...

A soft knock on the glass of my car window made me jump, turning to find Rowan Grove standing next to the door. I started to roll down the window but stopped myself. Instead, I just turned it off and clambered out, cooler in one hand.

“Hey,” he said, shyly. “I’m sorry if you were busy. I was just coming to have lunch with Cliff and saw you.”

I glanced at my watch and tried not to flinch. Had I been sitting in my car outside the Grovetown hardware store for over an hour? Obsessing over how sad and pitiful I was?

That made it even more pitiful, didn’t it?

“Well, I can just drop this off with him, and then you two can—”

“Oh no,” Rowan interrupted, then flushed and ducked his head. “You should join us.”

I cocked my head. “It wasn’t my intention to interrupt your lunch, Rowan. I know you two are...” And well, I didn’t know exactly what they were, other than together. I didn’t want to misspeak and insult anyone.

Rowan, far from worried about my internal turmoil, smiled and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “We are,” he agreed. “And we have lots of time alone together. But you’re pack, Archer. We want you here. Want to eat with you, and not just because you’re working to help us. Not that we don’t appreciate that too.”

I had to blink back moisture in my eyes at the little speech. Still, I steeled myself to take a step back, give him time with his boyfriend like he surely wanted. When Cliff came out of the shop, waving at us with a smile and asking, “Hey, Archer. Joining us for lunch?” the battle was lost.

If they were pretending to want me along, they were really freaking good at it.

So I walked over to the diner with them, and at their urging, ordered a full lunch with soup and a sandwich, and ate it all. We sat in the diner for almost an hour afterward, just talking about town events for the rest of the summer—festivals based on crops like strawberries and pumpkins, barn dances, and town meetings—all those adorable small-town things I always thought only happened on TV shows.

Neither of them even glanced at the cooler I’d brought in and set on the vinyl booth next to me. When Mrs. Chadwick cleared the dishes, and I pulled it off the seat and set it on the table, Cliff looked mildly surprised, like maybe he’d forgotten it was even there.

“I can’t promise the pheromone mix will work,” I said, meeting and holding his eye. “Itshould. I based it on the profile that all omegas have. But biology isn’t math. It’s a little more art, and everyone’s different.”

Cliff gave me a tiny smile. “I’ll try for as long as it takes, Archer. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.”

“I mean, at some point—” Rowan hedged, cutting himself off and biting down on his lip.

All amusement dropped from Cliff’s face, and he turned to look Rowan in the eye, voice strident and determined, decibels louder than a moment before, but with conviction, not anger. “No. At no point will I stop trying. Archer will figure this out, Ro. And you?You are enough. You’re all I want. I’m never, ever going to go looking for someone else just because they have omega pheromones. You’re what I need. I just need a little help from pack too. From Archer.”

Rowan’s shaky breath was the only sound in the whole diner, everyone around us quieting. He buried his head in Cliff’s shoulder, wetness leaking into the white T-shirt his boyfriend was wearing, but no one said a word.

After a moment, Cliff turned back to me, confident and determined, just like the alphas from stories and movies. “Hit me with what you’ve got, Archer. We’ll see if it works. And if not, we’ll try again.”

I nodded, opening the cooler without looking away from him. “As long as it takes to find the answer. We can do this.”

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