Chapter 17 Willa #2
“To get you more cider. And then we’re going to figure out how to get you and your brother in the same room.”
I take his hand. “You make it sound easy.”
“That’s because it is. You’re family.” He grins. “And lucky for you, I’m excellent at meddling.”
“Is that what you call it? Meddling?”
“Absolutely. It’s one of my best skills.” He tugs me forward, weaving us through the crowd. “But first, I need to find you something warm to wear. My Alpha can’t handle thinking you’re freezing.”
“Jake!” I laugh, but relish the sweet feeling of him being protective provokes.
“Look at this,” he says, stopping at a booth run by a familiar face—Addie Wells, an Omega who works at Timberland Outfitters and makes the most adorable handmade hats and mittens on the side.
“Willa, Jake!” Addie greets us with a bright smile. “Out on a date?”
“Yes,” Jake says at the same time I say, “Sort of.”
Addie laughs. “Well, whatever it is, you two are adorable. Looking for anything specific?”
Jake’s already looking through the selection, and before I can protest, he’s holding up a soft pink beanie. “This one. And…” He grabs a pair of mittens that are shaped like goose heads, complete with little orange beaks where the fingers go. “These.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re not serious.”
“Completely serious.” He hands them to Addie. “We’ll take both.”
“Jake, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He pays before I can argue, then hands me the hat and mittens. “Try them on.”
I roll my eyes but pull on the beanie. It’s incredibly soft, warm, and fits perfectly. The mittens are ridiculous—the goose heads fit in a way that when I move my hands, it’s like a little puppet. They’re weird, but they’re also kind of perfect.
“You look beautiful,” Jake says, and there’s something in his voice that makes my heart skip.
My Omega preens at the praise, at the gift, at the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the entire square. It’s overwhelming and wonderful and terrifying all at once.
“Thank you,” I manage.
We skate for an hour, and I’m terrible at it. I spend most of the time clinging to Jake’s arm while he laughs and helps me stay upright. But it’s fun, and I can’t remember the last time I let myself just enjoy something without overthinking it.
By the time we leave the rink, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and my legs are shaky from trying not to fall. Jake keeps his arm around me as we walk back to the truck, and I let him, soaking in his warmth.
“Did you have fun?” he asks as we reach the truck.
“I did.” I look up at him, this man who broke my heart and is somehow putting it back together. “Thank you, Jake. This was… perfect.”
“Good.” He opens my door, his hand lingering on my lower back. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
I slide into the passenger seat, and when Jake climbs in beside me, the cab suddenly feels smaller, more intimate. He starts the engine, letting it warm up, and his hand finds my thigh.
He glances at me to make sure it's okay.
I let my hand rest on his, the familiarity of the gesture releasing a part of me.
His palm is big and warm, and I’m thoroughly distracted by the weird way memories and this moment keep tripping over each other.
His hand is still at first—just resting there, his palm warm through my jeans.
But then his thumb starts moving, stroking back and forth in a gentle rhythm that sends shivers up my spine.
I try to focus on the road, on the Christmas lights fading behind us as we leave downtown, but all I can feel is that touch. That steady, maddening stroke of his thumb.
Heat builds low in my belly. Not the cozy warmth from earlier, but something hotter, more insistent.
I shift in my seat, unconsciously scooting closer to him until my thigh is pressed against his. Jake glances at me, something dark and knowing in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps driving, keeps stroking.
My skin feels too tight. The oversized sweater that was comfortable earlier now feels suffocating. I pull at the neck, trying to get air, and catch the way Jake’s nostrils flare.
“Wills,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” But I’m not. I’m burning up, my Omega jittery and overwhelming. “Just warm.”
He gives me a long, considerate look that makes me squirm.
“Charlie said you used to run wild over the ranch when you were kids?”
“It depends on what you consider wild.”
I appreciate the change of subject. Even if all I can think about is getting somewhere private, somewhere I can touch him properly, somewhere this ache building inside me can finally find release.
Air. I need air. The thick Alpha scent of him is messing with something fierce.
Finally, we pull up to the ranch house. I barely wait for the truck to stop before I’m unbuckling my seatbelt. Jake comes around to help me down, and the moment my feet hit the ground, another wave of heat crashes through me.
“Easy,” he murmurs, steadying me. “I’ve got you.”
I’m embarrassed to admit that I actually need the arm he wraps around me.
He leads me inside, his hand on my lower back, and I’m so focused on the feel of his touch, on the way his scent wraps around me, that I barely register where we’re going until we’re through the front door.
“Give me a second,” Jake says, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. “I’m going to order us some food. Make yourself comfortable.”
He disappears down the hallway before I can respond, leaving me standing in the entryway of the ranch house. Alone.
Except I’m not alone.
The scent hits me first—leather with that hint of bergamot that makes my Omega perk up with interest.
Beau.
I follow it without thinking, drawn like a magnet, trying to squish down the tightly wound feeling in my chest.
I round the corner into the living room, and there he is.
Beau McCrea, lounging on the sofa. He’s so relaxed and focused on the book he’s reading, he doesn’t notice me. But I can’t help the thick pulse of need that goes right to my core at seeing him.
Fuck.