Chapter 8 Forrest
Forrest
I don’t think I’ve been this nervous for a first date in my life.
“This is a date, right?” I ask Wells as he runs his hands through his hair one more time in the mirror.
“Yes, it’s a date,” he says confidently.
I slept in her room last night; she put us on her damn heat list, yet it feels like the stakes are unbelievably high.
“You look good, she’s into you, don’t stress so much,” he says, tugging on my dinner jacket that won’t button all the way.
All I do is grunt in agreement, because I’m not sure what else to say. How exactly would I know that she’s into me?
I didn’t know that Wells was interested in me for the longest time. He kept coming to my mountain, tagging us relentlessly on social media, giving us so much free promotion that my head of marketing was besides herself.
He booked an appointment with my assistant after we reached out to see what we could do for him for the free advertising.
The meeting went well. He was charming, happy to help promote the resort and mountain he loved.
He didn’t ask for any sort of payment, and said that he already paid for a season pass.
All he asked was that we go to dinner. Of course I couldn’t say no, and I didn’t want to either.
The whole time, I assumed it was a continuation of our business meeting until he kissed me at the end of the night.
I didn’t see it coming, but I didn’t push him away either. I craved intimacy, and was desperate for it.
After that night, it still wasn’t particularly clear what he wanted from me. The second night we went out to dinner, he told me he wanted me to fuck him and that we should date.
I didn’t know what I did or why he was so into me, but I was endlessly grateful.
We haven’t been apart much since that night, and I can’t imagine my life without him. Wells is the only person I’ve ever felt truly loved or seen by. Most of the time, I wonder why he chose me. No matter the why, I’m never letting him go.
Without him being the one to initiate, I’d probably still be miserable and torturously alone in my too big cabin with no one to fill it with.
Yet here we are, on this boat, looking for an Omega for our pack. There’s no way I’d be able to navigate this without Wells. He’s the social one, good with any person he meets, he can fill the silences I can’t.
“She’s probably just as nervous as we are. It will be fine, just be yourself,” he tells me, likely able to tell I’m overthinking everything about tonight.
What if being myself isn’t enough for her, or any Omega on this ship?
Fuck.
I groan, swinging the door open and following the fish on the floor on the carpet to the front of the ship. Wells walks behind me because the hallways are too narrow to walk together. I have to duck my head every few yards when the ceiling lowers.
When we’re on the elevator, Wells doesn’t seem on edge in the slightest, and I envy his easy nature. He’s so good with people, I wonder often what it is he sees in me when he could have anyone he wanted.
He hasn’t wanted to officially bond yet.
He says it’s because he wants me to bond with our future Omega first, but part of me always wonders if maybe he thinks that this won’t work out.
Not that I tell him this. I was extremely reluctant to come on this cruise, but I worried if I didn’t agree he wouldn’t put up with my shit anymore.
He’s been insistent on a pack, and I know he’s right. Being around Claire for just the night has made my need for an Omega completely apparent. Doesn’t mean that I’m happy about being stuck on this floating over-crowded city though.
Wells lets the hostess know that we’re waiting on Claire, and we stand at the entrance.
When she walks down the hallway to the restaurant, I’m again taken away by how stunning and well put together she is. She’s wearing a tight black dress that effortlessly falls off her shoulders, exposing her delicate collarbones.
She smiles as she approaches us, either ignoring or oblivious about all the Alphas that hungrily stare at her. She waves, her motion sickness bands nowhere to be seen, and I frown.
“You look unbelievable," Wells tells her and she smiles.
Her raven hair is in loose curls, covering one shoulder as she turns to me.
“You all clean up well. It’s both nice and devastating to see you with a shirt on, Forrest,” she says.
I don’t respond, instead I go into some sort of coughing fit. She likes how I look without a shirt on?
Wells smacks my back, giving me a sly look. “Our table is ready,” he says, placing a hand on Claire’s lower back and leading her to the table.
I at least have the forethought to pull out her chair. She gives me a quick smile as she sits and I help push her in.
Wells and I take a seat on each side of her as the server fills our water glasses and asks if we want anything to drink.
Claire orders a ginger ale and my need to take care of her overwhelms me.
“Is your stomach hurting? You’re not wearing your bracelets.”
The server is standing there, waiting for my order, but my gaze is locked on Claire.
“He’ll have a vodka soda, and I’ll have the white sangria,” Wells orders for me, and the woman promptly leaves our table.
Claire clears her throat. “I’m feeling fine for now, but I’d rather be safe than sorry and not have any alcohol. Plus, the bracelets would look ugly with this dress.”
“Nothing you could wear would look ugly,” I tell her honestly.
I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world wearing pajamas, throwing up off the side of the ship. Who cares about some stupid bracelets?
“I appreciate that,” she says softly, grabbing her menu and hiding her face.
Did I make her uncomfortable? Did I say something wrong?
What am I going to talk about? What could I possibly have in common with this woman? My fingers are tapping on the table as I half read the menu, half try to figure out what to say.
Claire places her menu down first, almost like she didn’t read it and came prepared with what she wanted to order.
“So, what do you do for work, Forrest?” she asks.
Thank fuck.
“I inherited my grandfather’s land and turned it into a mountain ski resort,” I say. Shit, I should have asked her a question back.
“Which one?”
“Cider Point Resort and Spa,” I say.
Her mouth drops open. “I went there for a family vacation two years ago. What are the odds? It’s an exquisite resort, Forrest, that’s extremely impressive.
So many other resorts in New England are a little dated, but yours is modern while still giving off rustic mountain charm.
Are you still heavily involved in the day-to-day functions?
” she asks, her fingers gripped on the pendant on her neck, sliding the necklace back and forth as she looks at me.
“I try not to be. It’s been difficult,” I tell her, which is true.
I’m the owner. I’ve hired the best people I could find to run the business. It’s hard to let go of control over something that means so much to you.
“It’s why the cruise worked out so well. Summer is the slowest season,” Wells chimes in. “How about you, Claire? What are you most passionate about?”
I should have asked her that after she asked me. I unbutton the top button of my shirt, feeling like it’s stifling in here. She looks at me, before turning to Wells.
Her cinnamon apple cake scent spikes with Wells’ question, and I swallow thickly.
“Well, I’m really involved in charity work with my mom. I enjoy cooking, reading, and I’d like to get outdoors more,” she says and I perk up.
I’m about to ask her more about what she enjoys doing in nature as the server comes to take our order.
Fuck.
After we order, she takes a thick sip of her ginger ale and I wonder if I’m ruining everything. It was so much easier to talk when it was a matter of making sure she was okay and safe.
But now that all I have to offer is myself, I feel lost. I wasn’t enough for my dad; I didn’t have many friends growing up, or relationships with any significant meaning. Wells seems to like me for who I am, but could I be enough for an Omega?
“Excuse me for a moment,” I say, leaving the table and heading toward the bathrooms.
I don’t go in, just stand by the wall.
Wells is going to leave me. There’s no way an Omega is going to want me when I can’t even come up with simple fucking questions to ask them. I rest my head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling as I take a heavy breath.
“Forrest?”
I know it’s Claire before I even look down and see her standing before me.
“I’ll be right back,” I say quickly, and the left side of her mouth tilts up.
“Is it me or the setting that makes you feel uncomfortable?” she asks and I adjust myself, standing taller.
“You don’t make me uncomfortable.” I clear my throat, not knowing exactly how to say what I’m feeling.
“I like that you’re a little shy,” she says and my brows furrow.
“I’m not shy,” I quickly say back.
“No?”
“No. I just don’t know what to say sometimes,” I blurt it out and she smiles at me.
“I don’t expect you to fill silences, Forrest. It will make it that much sweeter when you open up to me. Come on, let’s get back to dinner.” She says it all so easily, casually, as she slips her smaller hand into mine and leads me back to the dinner table.
When we get back to the table, Wells is giving me a wide grin. Did he tell her to come get me? Or did she do that all on her own?
I clear my throat, feeling as relaxed as I can be as Claire smiles over at me.
“So, what do you two usually do during the summer?” she asks.
“We spend a lot of time outdoors, traveling, and just relaxing before peak season rolls around again,” Wells says.
“What does spending time outdoors mean?” Claire asks.
“Camping, hiking, the occasional bike ride. You said you wanted to spend more time outdoors?” I ask.
Claire looks at me like I just accomplished some big feat. I don’t know why she does it, but she squeezes my hand on top of the table.
“Can’t say camping is on the list of things I want to do. But the idea of quiet, of just being around nature, it sounds peaceful to me. When we lived in Connecticut, I really enjoyed having such a big yard and a garden. I think I’d like to get back to that kind of life,” she says.
“You don’t like the city?” I’m hopeful that she says she fucking hates it as much as I do.
“It’s not that I don’t like it. Manhattan is unlike anywhere else in the world and it has its own sort of magic to it. But I don’t think that’s where I want to spend most of my time.”
I nod. Of course she doesn’t hate it. I’m sure she’s basically considered royalty there. I mean look at her.
There isn’t a lull in the conversation as Wells and Claire rapidly ask questions and chat back and forth. I listen intently, enjoying how easy the conversation is between them. It’s not a surprise, both of them seem like they can charm anyone.
I don’t have any experience with pack life, what it’s supposed to look like. Wells assures me that having multiple personality types makes them successful and I shouldn’t be comparing myself, but I can’t help but wonder what beyond my designation I bring to the table.
Claire is laughing at something that Wells said when another Alpha approaches our table. He stands between where Wells and Claire are sitting. He’s wearing an expensive suit, a self-assured smug smile on his face.
I want to throw him overboard the moment he touches the back of both of their chairs.
“Sorry for interrupting, I just had to come over and introduce myself,” he says.
“Why?” Claire asks, her voice polite, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s dealt with men like this her whole life.
“A pack this attractive. Who wouldn’t want to introduce themselves?” he says, but this time he’s adjusting his clothes.
Has she made him uncomfortable? The thought tickles the shit out of me.
“So let me get this straight. You looked over here, with people on a date, and you thought to yourself that this would be the most appropriate time to come and introduce yourself, which you haven’t even done?” Claire says.
Wells has a huge grin on his face, enjoying the show.
Claire is strong. She’s not the timid Omega that I carried to the infirmary and took care of. Or maybe she’s a bit of both.
“I’m Derrick,” he says, a flush rising on his neck.
“Well, Derrick, your timing is inappropriate and I would appreciate it if you walked away and saved yourself from any further embarrassment,” Claire says, turning around from him completely.
The man's grip on her chair tightens and he slightly tugs on the seat, jostling her as she takes a sip of her ginger ale, making her spill it.
I’m out of my seat in a moment, my hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers so tight he has no option but to release his hand.
“Shit,” Wells hisses as I poke the man dead center in his chest.
“She said to walk away,” I tell him in a low growl.
The man looks pissed, but he’s nowhere near as big as me. I could easily throttle him, and he’s wise enough to know that.
“It seems you just couldn’t resist the further embarrassment part, could you?” Claire says with a sigh.
The man holds his hands up in surrender, backing away, and when he gives Claire a shitty look, I’m ready to follow him and squeeze his scrawny little neck until his head pops off.
A small, perfectly manicured hand grabbing my forearm stops me. Her mouth-watering cinnamon apple cake scent wafts around me.
I swallow thickly as I glance down at her. Did she find that attractive?
“Let’s get back to our date,” she says softly and all of my anger washes away as her scent fills my brain, effortlessly soothing me.