Page 28 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
“Maybe I will,” she said quietly.
Lunch was actually fun. We ,sighed and joked, spending time getting to cautiously know each other without any of the usual date pressure because we both knew this wasn’t really one. When I asked her on a proper date I was going to sweep her offher feet just like deserved. She wasn’t ready for that yet. But she wasn’t running away either. And that was something.
As we reached Pine & Pages, Willa turned to me with a smile that made my chest feel warm.
“Thank you,” she said. “For lunch. For not making fun of my Duke Ravencrest commentary. For being patient with Hollis’s ridiculous matchmaking schemes.”
“Thank you for giving me an excuse to leave the garage,” I said. “And for delivering romance novels with a straight face.”
I was still grinning as she disappeared into the bookstore, the romance novel tucked under her arm. Through the window, I could see Hollis practically bouncing with curiosity, ready to interrogate Willa about every detail of our lunch.
My phone buzzed with a text as I reached my truck. Unknown number, but I had a feeling I knew who it was.
I hope you don’t mind but Hollis gave me your number. Thanks again for lunch. Next time, I’ll bring my own romance novel recommendations.
I stared at the message for a moment, then typed back.
Looking forward to it. Fair warning though, I might actually read the Duke’s book before then.
Her response came quickly.
Excellent. We can discuss his character development over dinner sometime.
Dinner sometime.Two words that shouldn’t have made my heart race, but did. I pocketed the phone and headed back to work, already planning when “sometime” might be.
You’re in trouble, Callahan,I told myself.Deep, deep trouble.
But as I thought about Willa’s laugh and the way she’d looked at me when she said maybe she’d stick around, I found I didn’t mind being in trouble at all.
Chapter 12
Willa
Istood outside the community center for a full five minutes before I could make myself walk through the doors. Kit had been gently persistent about Omega Arts Night for the past week, and I’d finally run out of polite excuses to avoid it. But standing here now, listening to the warm hum of conversation and laughter drifting from inside, every instinct I had was screaming at me to turn around and go home.
Creative spaces had been dangerous for me once. They were places where Sterling’s control had been most absolute, where my own desires had been used against me like weapons. The smell of paint and clay and possibility that wafted through the open windows made my chest tight with remembered panic.
But Kit had looked so hopeful when I’d finally agreed to come. And after Elias’s story about the fox that kept playing through my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about the difference between hiding and healing. Maybe it was time to test whether I could be in a creative space without falling apart.
The community center’s main room had been transformed into a cozy gallery space. Easels displaying omega artwork lined the walls, and small tables were scattered throughout the room where people sat working on various projects. Watercolor paintings, knitted scarves, photography prints, pottery pieces. The casual creativity of it all made something deep in my chest ache with longing.
“Willa!” Kit appeared at my elbow, her face bright with welcome. “You made it!”
“I made it,” I agreed, though I stayed close to the wall where I could keep track of all the exits. “This is lovely.”
“Isn’t it? Tonight’s theme is ‘comfort creating.’ Just making art that feels good, no pressure or expectations.” Kit gestured toward a table set up with supplies. “There’s watercolors if you want to try painting, or clay for sculpting, or even just sketchbooks if you prefer something simpler.”
The thought of putting myself in a creative space, even a supportive one, made my palms sweat. Sterling’s voice echoed in my memory.Real omegas create things that serve their pack, not self-indulgent nonsense that nobody wants to see.
“I think I’ll just observe tonight,” I said carefully. “Get a feel for how things work here.”
Kit’s expression softened with understanding. “Of course. There’s tea and cookies by the window if you want something to do with your hands.”
I gravitated toward the refreshment table, grateful for an activity that looked purposeful but kept me on the periphery of the group. From here, I could watch the other omegas work without feeling exposed myself.
There was something magical about the way they moved. Confident brushstrokes on canvas, fingers shaping clay with practiced ease, colored pencils creating detailed illustrations. Noone seemed stressed or worried about making mistakes. They were just… creating. For the joy of it.
“You’re new.” An omega with silver-streaked hair and paint-stained fingers smiled at me from across the table. “I’m Margie. I don’t think we’ve met.”
