Chapter Eleven
Lewis
After spending the night wide awake and figuratively kicking myself for my behavior, I got up and went about my chores.
The chickens were waiting for their breakfast, and everything else that had suffered while I was ill needed my attention, allowing me to distract myself from how I acted toward Wilder—a little.
But, in fact, no matter how I tried to focus on the bees and the trees, I kept finding myself running over what happened at the end of our first date.
We had such a good time together, and the omega was nothing but good to me.
My bear was wild for his wolf and demanding we get together again as soon as possible.
But then he’d also informed me that any shifting would remain painful until I’d mated and marked the omega of both our dreams. And I still didn’t know if he returned that sentiment.
Or if my grouchy demeanor had done just as my dads warned and pushed him away.
I’d been out here on the farm by myself since they passed, and I’d have said it was pretty close to paradise, but suddenly, being by myself held no charm whatsoever.
Everything I did, I wanted to turn and talk to him about it.
Would he even be interested? Maybe…
The gardens had some herbs, but there was room for improvement.
Wilder made so many of his remedies with herbs, and I wondered where he got them.
There were a lot of great farms around Oliver Creek, many of which would be able to provide the things he might need.
But my bear and I didn’t like that. We’d rather give him the land to grow his own or, even better, grow them for him.
For a couple of days, I worked and thought, thought and worked, and tried my best to decide what, if anything, I could do about the situation. I’d done everything except tell him to leave. Was I trying to make my fathers right?
I could come up with a thousand excuses, but none of them would make it any different, and I finally had to recognize that there would be no peace in my life without him.
I’d spend the rest of my years wondering what it would have been like if I had actually done the right thing and been gracious.
But there was no going back to fix what I’d already done.
I could only hope that going forward, I could prove myself to the omega.
With that in mind, I showered and dressed and got ready for town.
It was after hours, and the healing shop would not even be open, but he’d told me he lived upstairs, and I could always call and tell him I was outside.
Why did I not call before I went? Because I thought I stood a better chance of being admitted if I stood right there looking as pathetic as I felt.
Twice, I’d behaved in a manner that no omega should have to put up with.
Under the circumstances, I didn’t want to show up empty-handed.
For one thing, Wilder had pointed out what bad manners it was, and for another, I wanted to show him how sorry I was.
My lack of experience in any kind of serious relationship actually had me struggling a little about what to bring while I drove toward town.
Candy? Food from one of the fabulous restaurants that drew in tourists from all over the world? Maybe a piece of pottery?
In the end, I decided to keep it simple.
A bouquet of flowers was a romantic gesture that should show what I was thinking.
I cared about him—to put it mildly—and I wanted him to know that.
Head filled with romantic impulses, I found my way to the small florist near Wilder’s shop.
There were always customers in there, and today was no exception.
I had to wait in line for a few minutes while the others were served, and as I finally drew close to the counter, trying to decide between roses or a mixed bouquet, the lion alpha ahead of me was taking forever to make his selections.
“I need the best you have, none of those stupid carnations or all that greenery that makes it look cheap.”
“Yes, sir.” The college-aged woman behind the counter was the daughter of the owner, who I knew casually. “Would you like roses?”
“Too common. I need something exotic. Something he won’t be getting from every wolf and bear who come down the pike.”
She led him to a cooler near the door and pointed out some blooms that were several dollars per flower.
I wondered what my bees would think of those.
They were mostly subjected to native plantings or “common” varieties, and maybe they’d like nectar from South America or Australia.
I was idly picturing setting some of those flowers down near a hive to see if they’d show any interest or ignore them, when something the lion said broke through my musings.
“That nature pharmacist is going to love these. He’s probably never even seen a flower like that bromeliad.”
Nature pharmacist?
He had to be talking about Wilder.
“Do you mean Wilder?” asked the clerk. “He has been in here a few times, and he’s gone for more traditional, local flowers.”
“See? These will blow his mind. He’ll fall at my feet and beg me to go out with him.” He started into something a little more graphic, but before I could step in and shut his mouth for him, the girl gave him a glare that shut even his big mouth.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t get into our customer’s private lives. We just sell flowers.” She held up the huge bouquet, and I could see why she didn’t just throw him out. Especially when she told him the total. “Thank you and have a nice day.”
As the jerk left with his arms weighed down by the fancy flowers, I stepped up. “What does Wilder like?”
She grinned at me. “I’ll show you.” She led me to another cooler where we selected some pink and yellow baby roses, along with a few other delicate beauties. “He really doesn’t like showy things, I don’t think. He’ll love these.”
“Can you wrap them quickly?”
“Of course.” She pulled a sheet of patterned brown paper from a roll and arranged my purchase in it. “A little greenery okay?”
“Yes. Just call me common.”
She giggled and took my debit card, rang up my much-more-modest total. Handing it back, the clerk confided, “I gave you the local discount. And I might have charged an obnoxiousness fee to Lion Boy there. What a jerk. Just don’t tell Mom.”
“My lips are sealed.” I accepted the flowers. “I hope it was a large fee.” And that Wilder truly would like my offering more than the lion’s.