21. Elena
Chapter twenty-one
Elena
Morning sunlight filters softly through the curtains, warming my bare skin as I stretch beneath the covers, deliciously sore in all the right places.
A slow smile curls on my lips as the memories of last night resurface; vivid, warm, electric. But it’s more than physical afterglow.
I feel… different.
Like something inside me is clicking into place. For the first time in years, I’m not bracing. Not overthinking or holding back. Just breathing. Letting myself enjoy, connect. Trust. With alphas no less. Remarkable ones.
My hand brushes the pillow beside me, where a little folded note rests:
Early rounds. You looked too peaceful to wake. See you soon.
– C.
The smile deepens, and I sink back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, warmth blooming in my chest.
A soft buzz yanks me out of my my blissful reverie. I reach for my phone and squint at the screen. It's James.
Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty! And don't forget the bug spray today. Trust me on this one.
Right. Today's the optional foraging challenge. I almost forgot all about it. I blame the post-sex bliss clouding my brain.
Why do I feel like there's a story behind the bug spray warning?
Let's just say mosquitoes find sweet baker blood irresistible. Don't be late!
I roll out of bed, grinning. After a quick shower and a fortifying cup of coffee, I dutifully swallow my two blue pills of DuoBlocks. Operation: Keep Hormones In Check And Crush It is officially resuming.
I dress for a woodland romp: sturdy jeans, my most comfortable hiking boots, and a well-worn flannel shirt that has seen better days. I also sling on a backpack with my chef whites tucked inside.
* * *
The festival grounds are noticeably quieter this morning.
Only about twenty or so dedicated contestants have gathered in the competition area.
Judge Chen waves us over with her signature enthusiasm.
Beside her, Judge Parker stands with his arms crossed, his expression doing a remarkably good impression of someone who has just smelled something unpleasant.
"Good morning, good morning, brave foragers!" Chen chirps, her smile as bright as the morning sun. "Welcome to today's optional, but highly rewarding, Foraging Challenge! Today is all about connecting with the beautiful, bountiful nature that surrounds Lakeview."
Parker clears his throat pointedly. "And about proving you can do more than just follow a recipe. Resourcefulness, creativity under pressure… these are also hallmarks of a true culinary artist."
Chen smoothly continues, "Precisely! You'll have until two o'clock this afternoon to explore the designated areas of the woods around the festival and the surrounding meadows.
Your mission," she winks, "is to gather whatever wild, edible ingredients inspire you.
Then, you will use those foraged treasures to create one spectacular pastry for a private tasting session with a judge assigned at random. "
James materializes beside me, looking unfairly handsome in worn denim and a navy henley that does very good things for his shoulders.
"Morning, sugar," he murmurs, trailing a cloud of citronella so thick it's practically an olfactory assault. "How was your night after you left the pub?" He grins. "Did Cole show you his hose collection?"
Heat instantly floods my cheeks. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," I hiss back, trying to project an air of innocent confusion while simultaneously wanting the ground to swallow me whole. "And seriously, did you bathe in bug spray?"
"Hey, no one’s sucking me dry out here." He pauses, his gaze dipping before returning to mine with a smirk. "Well..."
Before I can fire back, he leans in slightly, voice dropping.
"And relax about last night. Your secret’s safe with your boyfriend .
" He puts a little too much emphasis on the word. "Just… be discreet if it happens again, yeah? Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m the festival cuck.
Bad for the brand." Like I need a reminder to be discreet in Lakeview…
"Remember," Judge Chen's voice suddenly rings out as she gives a meaningful glance in our direction, "gather plenty of ingredients. Foraging is done in pairs, but baking will be a solo effort. You'll each be assigned an individual station today. And be back before two PM. Go!"
We set off together, following the marked trail into the woods. The morning air is crisp and clean, carrying the earthy scent of pine needles. Sunlight filters through the canopy above, creating dappled patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor.
"Now that we're alone," James says as we walk, his tone deceptively casual, "on a scale of one to 'thoroughly satisfied,' how was your night?"
My face is on fire again. "I don't kiss and tell." Shit, why did I say that?
His grin is absolutely wicked. "Look at you! Should I be jealous?"
"Focus on foraging," I deflect, grateful to spot a bramble of blackberries ahead. "Look, berries!"
"Subtle subject change, but I'll allow it." He follows me to the patch where plump blackberries glisten with morning dew. "Mmm, these are perfect. Plump, juicy… almost as tempting as you are when you’re trying to look stern."
I roll my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugs at my lips. "You're impossible."
We pick in companionable silence for a while after that, our collection bags gradually filling with delicious fruit. James, it turns out, is a focused forager, his gaze instinctively locking onto the best finds. Though he does keep popping the choicest berries into his mouth.
"You do realize those are meant for baking , right?" I scold, trying very hard not to smile. "And what on earth is with the miniature water sprayer? Are you misting them for optimal juiciness?"
"Quality contwol," he replies, his mouth full of blackberry. "Firsht, wash. Shecond, tashte." He grins, a tiny drop of deep purple juice escapes the corner of his mouth, clinging precariously to his lip as he swallows.
Without thinking, I reach up with my thumb and gently wipe the stray juice away. The moment stretches. Our eyes lock. His skin is warm beneath my touch, a faint stubble rasping against my thumb, and suddenly his lips look dangerously sweet.
"S-sorry," I mumble, snatching my hand back as if I’ve been burned. My cheeks are definitely competing with the blackberry juice for redness now.
"Don't be." His voice has gone lower, rougher. "We are officially seeing each other, remember? Might as well make it convincing… even when no one’s looking."
My heart gives a traitorous flutter. A nervous laugh escapes me and I whirl away before he can see how rattled I am. “I think… I think I see some wild strawberries over here!”
The next hour or so passes in pleasant blur of discovery and, dare I say it, actual laughter.
James, it turns out, has a hidden talent.
He’s surprisingly knowledgeable about wild edibles, able to identify not just the obvious berries, but also patches of fragrant wild mint, tangy lemon balm, and even a scattering of delicate elderflowers hiding near a trickling stream.
He points out edible mushrooms I would have walked right past, and warns me away from some deceptively pretty but apparently very unfriendly berries.
"My grandmother," he explains, when I finally voice my surprise at his encyclopedic knowledge of woodland snacks, "lived way out in the countryside. I used to spend summers with her when I was a kid. She taught me which edibles wouldn’t kill me.
And which ones made a killer pie." He says it casually, but there’s a fondness in his voice.
A glimpse of a softer, less polished James.
"The great James Reynolds, secret country boy with a foraging grandma?" I tease gently. "The festival columnists would have an absolute field day with that."
"Please," he scoffs, though his eyes are smiling. "I actively cultivate my image as an urbanite. What happens in the woods stays in the woods."
A few minutes later, we stumble upon a massive patch of wild blueberries basking in a sunny clearing. Out of the blue, James flops down in the soft grass beside them like it's a five-star mattress.
"Strategic resting position achieved," he declares, already plucking berries with one hand. "Maximum berry access, minimum physical exertion."
"You mean lazy," I tease, but I’m smiling as I settle down beside him, the sun warm on my face. The air is alive with the happy hum of bees working the nearby wildflowers. It’s…
nice. Peaceful. Almost… normal. If you ignore the fact that I’m foraging with my fake alpha boyfriend, while my alpha-next-door situationship is probably doing safety rounds at the festival, and my pre-festival fling is somewhere getting his palate ready for a tasting.
"This is really relaxing," I admit, absently plucking berries as I shift into a crouch. "When's the last time you just... walked in the woods?"
"Honestly? Probably those summers with Grandma. City life doesn't leave much room for hikes."
As if summoned by our moment of peace, I hear the whine of a mosquito near my ear. James hears it too. He doesn't say 'I told you so', but his lips curve into a supremely smug smirk as he wordlessly fumbles in his bag and hands me his bug spray.
"Not. One. Word." I warn, snatching the can.
"Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar." But I have a feeling he's filing this ammunition away for future use.
We continue exploring, our bags growing heavier with foraged treasures: blackberries, blueberries, a handful of tart wild raspberries, fragrant mint, delicate elderflowers, and sweet wild strawberries.
The sun climbs higher, warming the forest floor, releasing the rich, loamy scent of wild herbs and damp earth.
My arms are starting to ache, and my fingers are stained a fetching shade of purplish.
"Think this is enough?" I ask, hefting my bag, which feels like it weighs a ton.
"Depends," James says, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Are you planning to feed the entire festival, or just knock one judge's socks clean off?"
"Aiming for sock displacement, definitely."
"Well, either way, we need one more crucial thing." He grins, then leads me to a bramble where wild roses bloom just a few feet away. "Rose petals. A few artfully scattered ones will elevate whatever you make to unforgettable."
As we carefully gather the fragrant petals, James suddenly grows uncharacteristically quiet.
His hands keep moving, but his usual easy comments are gone, replaced by a thoughtful stillness.
I glance over, sensing something shifting in the air between us.
He's focused, almost too focused, like he's turning something over in his mind.
"You know," he says finally, "I owe you an apology."
"For the bug spray smugness? Because I must admit it may have been justified."
"No, that was completely warranted." He cracks a small grin, then sobers again, his gaze still fixed on the roses. "For… for being a bit of a jerk when we first met. The whole overly competitive alpha act. And aggressively asking you out like that…"
"You mean practically strong-arming me into dating?" I cut in, raising an eyebrow, but keeping my tone light, playful.
He winces slightly. "That wasn’t… that wasn’t cool. My approach was all wrong. I should have just… asked you out. Like a normal human being. I definitely took things too far." He finally looks at me, his blue eyes surprisingly earnest. "I’m sorry, Elena."
I’m quiet for a moment, surprised by his sincerity, by the genuine contrition in his voice.
He runs a hand through his tousled hair.
"I know we spoke about this yesterday… but I want you to know I really was listening.
Not just nodding so we could get to the good stuff.
" A small, sincere smile tugs at his lips.
"Obviously we need to keep up the whole 'dating' act in public until the festival blows over, but…
" He hesitates. "Just so you hear it from my lips: there’s no pressure beyond that. And we don’t have to be all…
touchy-feely in public. Or in private, of course.
" He pauses, his gaze searching mine. "Unless that’s something you want. "
"Apology accepted, James," I say, and I mean it. His willingness to admit he was an ass, it means a lot. "And honestly? This whole crazy arrangement? It’s been… surprisingly not terrible. We’ve had some fun today… and yesterday. Haven’t we?
And I’m feeling a lot more clear-headed too.
Thanks in part to your pretty unorthodox help. "
A spark of mischief is back in James’s eyes. "Is that so?"
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that plays on my lips.
"The point is , you were right. This… whatever it is…
I think it's working. For now. And don't you worry, I don’t feel obligated to be physical with you just because you’re my get-out-of-disqualification-free card.
" I pause, taking a deep breath. "And just so I'm crystal clear too…
I enjoy the touchy-feely stuff. In private. Depending on the mood."
His expression shifts, the teasing glint softening into something more genuine. "You've no idea how I like the sound of that, Elena."
"But don't let it go to your head."
"Too late."
* * *
Back at the festival grounds, our bags are full of foraged treasures.
"So," James says, heading to a different station, "what culinary masterpiece are you planning to conjure with all this woodland bounty?"
"That," I reply, tapping the side of my temple with a juice-stained finger, "would be telling. Trade secrets, you know."
"Fine, be all mysterious and alluring." He grins. "Just remember who guided you to the patch of enchanted rose petals when you get on the theoretical podium today."
"Yeah… I’ll try my best," I say, a bit more hesitant. "But I don’t know if I’ll even place top three. This kind of challenge is unfamiliar territory for me."
He pauses. The grin fades, and something steadier slips into his expression.
"You know you have the skills to beat me, right?" he replies. "Hell, you could probably make a handful of dirt taste good in a pie. You’re seriously talented, Elena."
That compliment, delivered without his usual theatrical flair, hits harder than any elaborate praise. Before I can formulate a response, he's back to his lighter self.
"Besides, if I hype you up, it’ll hurt less if I lose. Strategic ego management."
I laugh, as I head to my station, my heart feeling… lighter. Fuller.
Between Cole’s grounding presence last night, and James’s disarming honesty today, I’m beginning to wonder if the emotional walls I’ve spent years building are beginning to crack. Maybe faster than would be wise.
But for the first time in years, I'm not sure I mind.