Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
CALEB
I glance over at Brielle as I guide the truck onto the turn off for one of my favorite hikes. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, revealing a small blue flower tattooed behind her left ear, right where a bonding mark is traditionally laid. Her gaze is firmly locked on the passing foliage, the prairie grass giving way to the pine forest as I take us farther up the mountain.
It’s been three days since I’ve seen her. An impressive feat, really, given how small Creek Falls is. But I’ve been intentionally keeping out of her path since the rodeo Saturday. It sounds chivalrous, but it’s really just self-preservation. I don’t trust myself to not behave like a crazed teenager near her. The small moment of smelling her perfume while walking her to her car Saturday night was nearly enough to break me. If I hadn’t had Cam sleeping against my chest, I would have at least kissed her. Pushed her up against the door of her fancy ass Land Rover until I could feel every single curve and line of her small body.
Even now, without a single hint of the lavender, all I want is to pull her against me and drown in her perfume. Clenching my jaw and tightening my hold on the steering wheel, I hold back the desire. I haven’t brought it up, the scent match. And I’m not about to just put it out in the open with the way Ethan’s been seething since the rodeo.
Not until Brielle and I have gotten to know each other better, at least. If I’m going to risk Ethan’s wrath, I’m going to make sure she’s interested in exploring something between us. Scent matches might mean soulmates, but it doesn’t guarantee both parties being interested in a relationship.
As I ease the truck into the small space beside the trailhead, Brielle glances at me. I force my body to relax. It doesn’t keep the cinnamon from very clearly filling the cab, though. For a brief moment, her lavender joins. Without a word, she eases the door open and slips out of the truck.
We’re the only people here. Tuesdays aren’t a huge hiking day even in the peak of summer—which is still a month or so away. Brielle’s already to the small sign at the beginning of the trail by the time I grab the bag tucked behind my seat and lock the truck.
“You need anything before we get going?” I ask.
“Could I put my water bottle in your bag? I didn’t think to bring my own.”
I take the bottle without comment and stash it in the side pocket. As we start down the trail, she stands a few inches away from me, closer than she really has to. Another small taste of her scent reaches me. That’s a good sign, right?
Inexplicably, nerves coat my throat and make it hard to breathe. I go hiking with Melissa and Emily all the time. Though they definitely aren’t my scent match. And I’ve never contemplated eating either of them out in one of my favorite spots along the creek. Not that I’m thinking about eating Brielle out right now either. Definitely not. I have no desire to spend the day traipsing through the forest with a damn hard-on.
“I haven’t heard of this one,” she says once the trailhead has disappeared behind us. “I’ve been thinking about working through the trails Melissa keeps as suggestions for the ranch guests. I wonder why this one isn’t on it.”
Is it wrong to bring up Brandon?
Fuck, I’m thirty-five with a kid. This shouldn’t be such a damn gray area for me.
I clear my throat and shove my hands into my pockets. I keep my gaze on the trail ahead of us as I say, “If she recommends this trail, there’s the possibility of someone requesting it for a guided hike. And Melissa won’t hike this one.”
Brielle tenses beside me. “Oh,” she whispers. “I didn’t realize this was one of the ones Brandon loved.”
She glances at me, like she’s trying to gauge my reaction to her knowing about Brandon, but I’m not entirely sure what she’s expecting from me. She’s Melissa’s best friend. Of course she would know about her brother. Didn’t I bring him up in the barn on Friday?
“His favorite, actually. I don’t think she’s been up here since he was killed.”
The trail grows more uneven the deeper we travel, and I grab her elbow when she stumbles over a tree root. My breath catches in my throat, waiting for her instant rejection. Instead, she leans a bit more into me before steadying herself and murmuring her thanks. I can’t smell her at all, not even a faint impression of the lavender.
She must be wearing scent blockers today. Or maybe one of those lotions that I’ve seen some of the Omega pilots use when they don’t need something foolproof. She’d used one at the rodeo. Her using a lotion would explain why I was able to smell her in Mom’s shop.
I force my thoughts away from her scent, focusing on the hike.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve spent so much time outside like this,” she admits a few minutes later. “I’d like to say I’m normally more graceful, but I’d probably be lying.”
I can’t help but smile. “Tell me if you want to stop and head back.”
She shakes her head. “I’m assuming there’s a good view at the end of this one? Or a cool landmark like the Arch?”
“Something like that,” I say.
One eyebrow arches as she stares at me, the first real glimpse into how she is when she isn’t as guarded. It makes my dick twitch.
“There’s a meadow along the edge of a creek,” I say, chuckling. “I packed a lunch and thought we could set up a picnic.”
The trail narrows as the grade grows more intense, and I slip behind her, a hand hovering just in case she slips again. Her breathing grows more ragged, but she doesn’t utter a word in protest to the difficulty of the trail. When it splits around a large pine tree, I guide her to the right, and some tension bleeds out of her when she sees it’s the path taking a slight downhill route.
“Just a little longer,” I offer.
Her shoulders stiffen.
“I’m fine,” she says in a tone I haven’t heard from her before. It’s not the calm and confident tone she used at the rodeo. And certainly not the laughter-filled one from earlier on the hike.
The path widens back out, so I move to walk beside her. I keep my own body relaxed as we traverse the last stretch of the hike before it widens into the flat meadow. The trees clear nearly out of nowhere, similar to the Arch. The creek runs through the center, maybe five feet across most places, mosses and other water-loving plants hugging the rocky banks.
Brielle’s breath catches before she murmurs, “It’s gorgeous.”
I mentally high-five myself. She crosses the open space to the creek, standing on a large rock along the edge. I pull the bag from my back and pull out the blanket, laying it out and then setting the small bit of food in the center.
Brielle glances over her shoulder, and there’s a light in her eyes I haven’t seen yet today. Some of the anxious lump sitting at the base of my throat eases away. She’s having fun. She might be uncertain, but she’s enjoying herself. Without saying anything, she settles on the blanket, crossing her legs and braiding back her hair with quick, efficient movements. I force my gaze away and split the food up.
“There’s a chicken salad and an Italian hero,” I say, holding out both options.
Her lips purse as her head tips, her fingers still working their magic in her hair.
Oh shit. Is she a vegetarian? I didn’t think to ask Mom this morning.
She takes the chicken salad sandwich without comment once she’s secured a hair tie around the end of her braid. The urge to mess it up, to see how her hair looks splayed out along this blanket, hits me so hard it practically blinds me. The explosion of my cinnamon scent is impossible to control. I spread my legs and lean back on my elbow, ignoring the throbbing of my dick, and let my eyes close. It takes all my willpower to not make the first move, to not verify if she’s as affected by this private moment as me. You’d think, with all my flight training, that I’d be more patient. I’d honestly thought I was.
“You said you made these?”
Her soft voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I tilt my head, letting it rest on my arm. The sun gilds her face. It highlights a set of freckles I hadn’t noticed before, dotted along the apples of her cheeks. They’re nearly the same shade as the amber highlights in her eyes and hair.
“Mom did,” I admit. “My cooking is fair to average. But Mom’s is fantastic.”
And I want her to have the best. There’s no reason to subject her to my mediocre peanut butter sandwiches on our first date, even if it’s just a hike to one of my favorite quiet places. After a few minutes, she sets the rest of the sandwich aside.
“So was your plan to have a picnic in the forest and then seduce me?” she asks. There isn’t any coy playfulness in her question. She’s really curious if that had been my plan.
I scoff. “I might not have dated in…” I trail off and actually think back to when I last legitimately dated like this. Was it really when we matched with Kayla? Damn, that was six years ago now. I clear my throat. “Longer than I’d care to admit, actually.”
Her gaze grows softer. “You haven’t dated since her?”
I shake my head once and then steer the conversation away from Kayla. Talking about dead lovers is not the type of shit they tell you to discuss on a first date. Even worse is the subject of the Omega I was once bonded to.
“I still remember the rules of engagement,” I say. “It’s a date, not a hookup. I’m not expecting anything. Guys who expect sex on the first date are assholes.”
Her lips flick up.
“Fair enough,” she says.
She leans back and lets her face tip toward the sky, closing her eyes as a cloud covers the sun.
Her voice blends with the forest when she says, “It’s been a long time for me, too. I haven’t really had the desire to see anyone after… everything.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She shrugs and drops her head, the soft happiness bleeding away from her. She changes the subject with a finger pointed toward my forearm.
“That’s a beautiful piece. Is it of a specific spot?”
I glance at the tattoo that covers my forearm and wraps around my wrist. I nod and swallow back the emotion talking about the place brings up. Holding it out for her to examine, I say, “Yeah, it’s my favorite glen.”
She tilts her head. “It’s not this one, though, right? The trees are farther apart in that one. Like the meadow is bigger…”
Her voice trails off. She traces one of the pines along the edge of the tattoo, and goosebumps race up my arm. Is she upset I didn’t bring her there?
“Is this Fool’s Canyon?” she asks. “That looks like Fool’s Bluff.” She traces the rocky ridge that frames the upper side of the mountain meadow.
I nod, trying to remember how to form words, how to breathe, while keeping absolutely still. If I so much as flinch right now, I’m pretty damn positive I’m going to have my hands on her. She runs her finger along another of the trees.
“I’ve been up there once,” she says. “It’s beautiful. Different from here. And a lot harder to get to.”
She lets her hand drop away from my arm and takes a long, shaking breath. What has her so nervous?
“I never thought I’d find my scent match,” she says. Her voice is quieter, a slight waver to it. I freeze. Her throat ripples as she swallows. “It’s one of those things the Council frames as largely impossible. But this place has a history of surprising me.”
Her shoulders are tense, but her face is clear, her eyes only holding a soft curiosity.
“You’re not upset?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “More… nervous,” she says. “I spent the majority of the last decade on suppressors married to a Beta. I worry I won’t be appealing to someone who’s been bonded to an Omega before.”
Jesus, that’s a lot to unpack. I grab her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. She doesn’t pull away from the touch. She doesn’t scent, either. Definitely wearing a scent blocker of some kind.
I pull one thing from what she said to focus on for the moment.
“To be fair, I’m nervous, too. And we don’t have to do anything at all if you’re uninterested.” She licks her lips. Cinnamon bleeds out from me. Fuck me, I want to kiss her. “I figured I’d take you out and get a chance to talk without distractions to see if it was something both of us wanted to explore. Perfect biology doesn’t mean perfect relationship.”
She smiles, her nervous energy melting away as the moment extends between us. I run my thumb along the back of her hand, and a hint of her scent wafts around us.
“Camden’s a pretty cute distraction,” she says, breathless.
“He is,” I agree.
My phone vibrates where it’s stashed in the backpack.
Fuck.
If it were any other time of the year, I’d ignore it. But summertime means it’s probably Sam calling me in for a fire. Sure enough, a single text from Sam waits in my notifications.
Fire south of Boise. Big one, just bring yourself. Report tomorrow 0900.
“Everything okay?” Brielle asks as I tuck my phone away, dropping it onto silent.
“Just got called to a fire,” I say.
She frowns and starts to stand. “Do we need to head back?”
I shake my head, laying back down on my elbow so we’re almost the same height.
“I report tomorrow, so we still have today,” I whisper.
Her lips curve into a barely-there smile as she settles back in beside me. Quiet settles around us, and I don’t rush to break it, content with whatever small thing is starting between us. After a while, her hand traces my tattoo, her touch feather light. I’m not quite sure how much time has passed when she speaks.
“Can I kiss you?” Her voice skates over me, a breeze that carries so much between us.
I offer a smirk as I nod once. She leans over me, and I cup her cheek. Her lips are soft, but she’s anything but hesitant. She runs her hands up my arms, tracing the mountain tattoo again before palming the nape of my neck. My dick jumps, and I can’t help but moan. She shudders, and then it slams into me all at once, something about her moving making her scent suddenly unfiltered.
Lavender, so strong it feels like I’m walking through a plant store. It’s fucking divine, just like the first time I smelled it in Mom’s coffee shop and realized what she is. This time, though, there’s an acidic edge to it. A growl rumbles through my chest, the need to protect and care for her slamming into me with all the force of a damn freight train. I sit up without a second thought, keeping her pressed against me.
She freezes.
I force myself away from her, dropping my hand from her cheek to her knee. Her face is pale. Her hands shake where they still rest against my arms, and her heart is racing fast enough I can see it beating in her throat. The acidic edge of the lavender bites into me, something I’ve read about, been warned of, but never actually experienced.
“Brielle,” I murmur.