Chapter 23 Lia
Lia
Being with Walker feels… easy.
The landscape of the vineyard is beautiful at night. Even from the front as we walk through the main doors of the building, I can see the rows of vines in the distance, basking in the moonlight. Walker’s hand on the small of my back sends a shockwave of heat down my spine.
But it has nothing on the way I stare when we get to the restaurant.
“Oh. My. Goodness.”
The low lighting greets us first as Walker opens the door for me.
There are candles flickering in random places, highlighting the fairy lights strung throughout the ivy crawling on the white lattices.
The bright restaurant where I sat with them before has been transformed into a peaceful, quiet space.
“It smells amazing in here,” I say as Walker ushers me over to a booth.
“Here, allow me,” he says as he holds out his hand.
I smile at him as I take it, letting him to help me slide into the booth. A pinch of guilt bites at my gut, though.
“Don’t tell me your staff is serving us after hours,” I say as I look up at him. “I don’t want to impose.”
He chuckles. “No. Tonight is private. I dismissed them earlier this evening so I could get into the kitchen and start preparations.”
The guilt quickly dissipates. “Oh, good.” But then what he said sinks in. “Wait, you’ve cooked again?”
“Of course,” he says as he turns away from me. “I enjoy spoiling you. Just give me fifteen more minutes. I need to sear the salmon off.”
I lean to the side a bit, watching him disappear through a swinging metal door.
My instincts preen at the idea of being his Omega.
Walker comes back a couple minutes later with two glasses of wine. He sits one down in front of me, the long stem glowing in the warm candlelight. He sets one down for himself across the booth table from me, and the wink he tosses me before he disappears again makes my stomach flip.
I’m beginning to like being spoiled.
I pick up the glass of wine and take a sip. It’s a light red, not too sour like some red wines are. Though I’m not well-versed on wines. And it’s not overly sweet, either.
It isn’t long after that the smell of lemon and salmon drifts beneath my nose.
“It smells good out here!” I call out.
“Plating now!” Walker calls back.
Within mere minutes, a massive plate of food sits in front of me. Walker slides into the booth, his warmth dominating the space as I watch him unfold his silverware. He takes the cloth napkin and settles it into his lap, preparing his space as if it were a precious ritual.
“Like what you see?” he asks with a grin as his gaze lifts to mine.
I clear my throat and quickly unravel my own silverware. “Sorry. Just…”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Lia. I was just teasing.”
I give him soft smile as I tuck my napkin away to the side. “This all looks amazing, Walker. What’s the violet stuff?”
“Amaranth. It goes well with the kale, I’ve found. It wasn’t something I used to eat as a kid. Mom always made it, though.”
I take my fork and put a bit on the tip.
I bring it to my nose and sniff, which earns me a chuckle from Walker.
The sound is rich, like the color of the dish, but when I finally take a bite, I realize it’s been marinated in this garlicky soy sauce sort of mixture.
It’s got a tang to it that makes my mouth water, and soon I’m taking a second bite.
And a third.
“My goodness, Walker,” I say after swallowing. “Who taught you to cook like this?”
He smiles, genuinely smiles, and it lights up his normally stoic features. I’m stunned for a moment, like a kid looking up at the bright sun for the very first time.
I wish he smiled more often. It looks beautiful on his face.
“My mother,” he says as he slices the edge of his fork into the salmon on his plate. “She was always in the kitchen growing up. Moved much too fast for me to pick up much, but I saw how much she enjoyed it, and I learned to cultivate a love for it on my own as I grew.”
I dig my fork into the mashed sweet potatoes. “This looked so good on the plate that I debated on whether or not to even take that first bite.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re eating. I read somewhere that Omegas in preheat need omega-3 fatty acids to help keep their hormones stable.”
He… what?
I whip my eyes up to meet his, but he’s already digging into his food. I stare at him while he takes bite after bite, washing it down with the wine every once in a while.
“Where did you read that?” I ask.
His gaze flickers to me. “Just in some research I did when trying to figure out the menu for tonight. Hope that’s okay.”
I blink. “You researched what was good for my preheat before cooking?”
He cants his head to the side. “Yes? Is… that a problem?”
I feel tears brewing behind my eyes and I quickly blink them away. I’m not sure anyone has ever done anything so sweet for me. Outside of my dancing in the kitchen with Eli. And my lovely morning picnic in the sunrise with Knox.
He’s so kind, taking me into consideration like that. Not judging. Not champing at the bit to fulfill my heat. There’s been no talk of knots or any pressure to have sex at any turn with any of them.
I really like that.
“Lia?” Walker asks, piercing through my thoughts. “You all right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say as I dig back into my food just for something to turn my attention toward, “just… thinking.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head and shrug, but my lips betray me instead of wrapping around the bite of salmon on my fork.
“My former pack never treated me this way. They sort of expected me to bend to their will. It’s just…
nice. Not being pressured into things. Being taken into consideration.
I can see why packs would appeal to most Omegas now. ”
There isn’t much conversation that flows after that.
Between our forks scraping against the plates and my mind jumbled with so many things, I can’t really land on anything to say.
The silence is comfortable, though. I don’t feel this weird need to fill it.
I don’t feel as if I’m burdening him in any way.
I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel like a burden.
Except with Knox.
And Eli.
Pack.
I shove that instinctual voice into my belly and hum as I take another bite of the salmon. I can’t help but bebop in my seat a little bit, doing my little happy dance. When food is that good, I can’t help but move.
I’ve always been that way. Whether it’s baked goods I’ve outdone myself on or a meal my own mother threw down in the kitchen when I was growing up, good food sometimes surpasses words.
It’s Walker’s snicker that pulls my attention back to him.
“Enjoying the food?” he asks.
I take a sip of my wine. “You should smile more often.”
The grin falls. “What?”
“You should,” I say as I place the glass of wine down. “You have a beautiful smile.”
He nods slowly. “Never heard that one before.”
I furrow my brow. “Not from anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Not even an Omega you’ve dated before?”
He pauses, and I know I’ve stepped in it.
“Walker, I’m sorry,” I say quickly, “I should’ve—”
He clears his throat and places his fork down. “Rachel said that once, during our first date, but I don’t want to spend time speaking on another Omega that doesn’t matter here.”
It feels wrong to come back with something, so I don’t. He’s got a point, though. One of the unspoken rules of the South is that you don’t talk about an ex with someone you’re on a date with. I’m glad that I don’t say anything, because the silence encourages Walker to keep talking.
I like it when he talks.
“But if we’re going to touch on the subject, we might as well get it out of the way: I’ve only ever dated one Omega before,” he says as he lifts his stoic brown gaze to mine, “and she left. We were a whirlwind romance based on scents and nothing more, and in the end, she chose a life of excitement in the city over a quiet life here with me.”
My heart shatters. “Walker, I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not. I wouldn’t be here with you if things had worked out, and I think that would be the greatest cardinal sin to ever be committed.”
I take another bite of the salmon. “I want to ask questions, but I don’t know if I should.”
He takes a sip of his wine. “Ask me anything you’d like, I have nothing to hide.”
My fork scrapes against my plate a bit. “How long were the two of you together?”
“Only about a month.”
“Why was she in Honeysuckle Grove in the first place?”
“She had a little gossip column that did well, and she was trying to expand it. At first, she wanted to write and edit her own small-town magazine alongside the local newspaper that Honeysuckle Grove does. But as much as this place likes to gossip, it’s not like they wanted that splattered all over the front page of somewhere.
It didn’t take off, so she went back to Grand Fleming. ”
My goodness, Grand Fleming is almost three hours from here. He must’ve been heartbroken.
The thought makes me angry. Three hours away? If an Alpha I was seeing chose to be three hours away instead of with me, I’d wonder what in the world was so wrong with me. I reach out and offer my hand to Walker.
The need to comfort him is strong. I mean, who would choose a life in a city over a life with—
Hollow Mill Junction.
His hand slides against mine as those three little words wash through my mind. Hollow Mill Junction. Where I’ve been researching on possibly opening up my bakery. He’s sitting here with me on a date knowing damned good and well there’s a chance I may do the exact same thing.
Just like I’m afraid they’ll do to me what my former pack did.
“I’m so sorry, Walker,” I say softly.
He just shakes his head. “That was years ago. I was still in my twenties. I’ve moved on, and I hope wherever she is, she’s well.”
My eyes clock the salt in his hair right at his temples. Age has never been a thing I’ve fussed over, but Walker has to be in his forties. That means…
He hasn’t been on a date in more than ten years?