12. Sweet Cream & Questions
Sweet Cream & Questions
Jake
Igrip the leather steering wheel of my truck, my knuckles turning white against the dark material.
I steer down the two-lane highway heading out of Willowside.
The late autumn scenery flashes past the window in a blur of dead gold and brown leaves.
A tight, agonizing knot twists deep in my gut.
I keep my eyes on the asphalt, fighting the urge to grind my teeth.
I have fourteen days to convince the most stubborn, independent woman on the planet to make this town her permanent home. The ticking clock echoes in my skull.
My Alpha instincts roar in the back of my brain, demanding I take control.
The primal urge wants me to pin her to a mattress, sink my teeth into her scent gland, and claim her with a bonding mark.
I want to bite her and prove to the entire world she belongs to our pack.
But I shove that possessive urge down into a dark, locked box.
Pushing her for an answer or demanding a bond right now guarantees a disaster. Crowding her space will trigger her flight response. If I push too hard, I ruin everything Edward, Nolan, and I built over the past two and a half months.
Today marks my final scheduled one-on-one date with her before the 90 days expire. I need to make this afternoon count. I need to show her a future worth staying for.
I glance over at the passenger seat. Jessie stares out the window, watching the passing trees.
She wears her dark-wash denim jeans and a thick olive-green jacket to fight off the autumn chill.
Her dark hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders.
The sweet, intoxicating scent of vanilla and toasted sugar drifts across the cab, wrapping around my senses.
Breathing her in calms the frantic edge of my anxiety.
I hit the turn signal and pull the truck off the paved highway.
The tires crunch loudly as we transition onto a rough dirt access road.
We bump along the uneven terrain for another mile, heading toward a secluded, private creek on the far outskirts of the county.
I prefer this spot because it sits miles away from the town square, the nosy locals, and the police station.
Out here, I shed the badge and just get to be a man trying to win over his Omega.
I park the truck near a cluster of tall pine trees, turn the key, and kill the engine. "We made it." I offer her a warm smile.
Jessie grabs the door handle and hops out of the passenger side. She pulls her jacket tighter against the crisp air, her boots hitting the dirt with a soft thud. I open my door and step out. I walk around to the rear passenger door and yank it open.
Duke bounds out of the cab in a flash of golden fur. The retriever hits the dirt and lets out a sharp bark. His tail wags with chaotic energy as he catches the scent of the nearby water. He runs a tight circle around Jessie's legs, begging for attention.
"Hey, buddy." Jessie laughs, scratching the dog behind his floppy ears. "You smell the water?"
I walk to the back of the truck and drop the tailgate. I grab a woven picnic basket and a thick, waterproof wool blanket from the truck bed. Pushing the tailgate shut, I loop the blanket strap over my shoulder and carry the basket by the handle.
"Follow the golden blur." I gesture down the narrow dirt path. "He knows the way."
Jessie falls into step beside me. We walk down the winding trail, the dry pine needles crunching under our boots.
Duke leads the charge, sprinting ahead and stopping every few yards to sniff a bush before darting off again.
The trees clear a few minutes later, revealing a beautiful, wide bend in the creek.
The water runs crystal clear over smooth, dark stones.
The current babbles over the rocks, creating a peaceful, steady noise that drowns out the rest of the world.
I scope out the riverbank, looking for the perfect spot. I find a flat patch of soft grass under the shade of a massive oak tree, offering a great view of the shallow water where Duke plans to swim.
Setting the basket down, I unroll the waterproof blanket and spread it wide over the ground. I take a seat on the edge and pat the space next to me. Jessie takes her seat, her knee bumping against my thigh. I plan to use every single second of this afternoon to prove she belongs right here with me.
The latch on the woven basket gives way under my thumb.
I pull out fresh turkey and Swiss sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil.
Instead of our standard coffee, a thermos of rich, homemade hot chocolate fills two enamel mugs, sending sweet steam into the crisp autumn air.
A slice of bakery cheesecake dusted with cinnamon rests in a plastic container at the bottom of the basket, waiting for dessert.
Duke splashes in the background, committed to terrorizing the creek. The golden retriever plunges straight into the freezing water without hesitation. Paws churning up cold spray, he spots a thick branch bobbing downstream and attacks it, thrashing his head side to side with stubborn pride.
Jessie unwraps her sandwich, watching the dog with bright eyes. A genuine laugh bursts from her throat, cutting through the rush of the current.
The woman sitting on this wool blanket bears zero resemblance to the guarded, exhausted doctor who rolled into town three months ago.
Back then, she maintained an iron wall between herself and the world, masking her scent with synthetic floral suppressants.
Now, her natural vanilla aroma drifts free in the air.
Seeing her drop her guard takes my breath away.
Duke drops his prize, charges out of the shallows, and shakes a shower of cold droplets over the stones.
Reaching into my heavy jacket pocket, my fingers wrap around a fuzzy yellow tennis ball.
I draw it out, cock my arm, and launch the ball across the water toward the far bend.
Duke barks once, scrambles across the bank, and plunges deep into the pool, paddling hard.
Taking a sip from her mug, Jessie shakes her head. "He runs this county. You spoil him rotten."
Setting my mug in the grass, I lean back on my hands. "He puts in long hours napping on the porch. Someone has to reward the hard labor."
Jessie smiles around another bite of her lunch. "Must be nice. My first dog was a stray mutt behind an auto shop in Reno. Half terrier, half stubborn menace. He stole half my sandwich on shift, but he guarded my toolbox like a dragon."
I raise an eyebrow. "You worked in an auto shop?"
Her gaze drifts to the ripples in the creek. "Before vet school. Needed tuition money. Needed to know how to keep a transmission running so I wouldn't get stranded on the road. If you don't know how to fix your own ride, someone else dictates when you get to leave.”
She shrugs her shoulder. “Besides, Betas run auto garages for the most part, so blending in was simple. Being the sole girl in the shop worked in my favor, too. The male mechanics stepped in to deal with the Alphas, leaving me alone in the pit. But I learned a ton."
The comment stings, but my voice stays calm. "Nobody dictates your moves out here."
I reach for the container of cheesecake and pop the clear lid.
"My old man taught me how to rebuild a carburetor before I even had a learner's permit.
He served as county sheriff for twenty-five years.
Kept an ancient patrol truck running on spit and wire.
Dragged me out to the garage every Saturday morning at dawn, grease up to my elbows. "
Jessie tilts her head, watching me. "Strict teacher?"
"Stubborn as an ox." I carve off a corner of the dense cheesecake with a plastic fork.
"He believed if you don't know how to take care of your own gear, you can't be trusted to take care of other folks.
Out here in the open flatlands, a bad alternator or an empty tank in a winter prairie blizzard kills people.
I spent my whole childhood riding in the front seat of his cruiser, watching him pull folks out of ditches between La Junta and Pueblo, making sure nobody froze waiting on a tow. "
I lift the fork toward her lips. "Taught me that a badge means jack shit without trust. You want people to count on you, you show up every single time without excuses."
Jessie parts her lips, taking the bite from the fork. A satisfied hum vibrates in her throat, her eyes fluttering shut for a second.
Leaning back on her hands, she licks a crumb from her bottom lip. "That's dangerous. Edward make this?"
"Bought it from Luca's." I feed her a second bite, watching the dark flecks in her eyes catch the afternoon sun.
Duke pulls his soaked body out of the water, shakes, and showers the dry grass before collapsing into a sunny patch of dirt, exhausted.
Shifting closer on the blanket, my shoulder knocks against hers. Her vanilla scent blooms, wrapping around us. I swore I wouldn't push about deadline, and I plan to keep my word. But laying out a real future doesn't break the rules.
I keep my eyes on the water. "The deck needs work when the frost breaks in March. Winter ruins the south boards. Edward wants to expand the footprint, wrap the cedar all the way around the kitchen side."
Jessie traces the rim of her mug. "Big job."
I turn my head, studying her profile. "Takes time. Gives us room for a long table outside. Nolan wants to till an acre near the fence line for fresh produce. Tomatoes, squash, peppers."
I track her expression, searching for panic. Talking about next spring plants roots past her remaining fourteen days. I don't want a temporary bedmate. I want an equal partner to share a life with.
Jessie watches the current, her voice quiet and steady. "Tomatoes demand full sun. And deer treat gardens out here like an open buffet. You need an eight-foot fence, or they'll strip the vines bare in one night."