Chapter 42 The Prescott Pep Squad
Chapter Fourty Two
The Prescott Pep Squad
— Tomas —
The sun’s still climbing. We’ve got about another hour before Wade conveniently needs something from the barn, and Sunday just happens to be with him. Pulling this off hasn’t been easy. She’s suspicious by nature, able to sniff out a secret at a hundred yards. But I wanted to show her that we can do this for her—that she can let go, just for a moment, and trust us to take care of her.
I want her to have a perfect day.
She deserves this—a moment where she doesn’t have to plan or work or shoulder everyone else’s burdens. It’s not just about giving her a party. It’s about giving her space to breathe, to feel cared for without obligation. And maybe, when she sees all of this, she’ll understand. She’ll know that I’m not just asking to share her life with me—I’m offering to share the load. This isn’t just a proposal. It’s a promise.
My fingers drift to the small velvet box in my pocket, my thumb brushing against the edge. I’ve triple-checked everything—blankets, lanterns, food. But this? This is the one thing I can’t rehearse, can’t control. The weight of it feels heavier than it should, like it’s not just carrying a ring but everything I want to say, everything I need her to know.
She’s going to say yes.
She has to.
I close my eyes, trying to calm the sudden and inexplicable tachycardia that flares up whenever I go over my proposal. My wolf isn’t helping, pacing restlessly in the back of my mind. What if we mess this up? What if I fumble the words? My wolf growls at me. What if she doesn’t like it?
I shove the thought aside, dragging a hand down my face just as the boards creak under familiar boots. Colt bounces up the steps to the porch, his wheat-blond hair overdue for a trim, blue eyes perpetually full of mischief.
It’s been a few days, and I still want to strangle Colton Prescott. But it’s hard. Sunday says he’s Teflon-coated, and I get that. It’s nearly impossible to stay hostile with someone who never stops smiling and offering to help. He’s got that damn Prescott charm down to a science, and it’s maddening.
He flops into a chair across from me, grinning like he’s in on the best joke in the world. He holds out a green plastic bottle of soda, the liquid inside glowing like something that should come with a biohazard label.
It’s Mountain Dew, but somehow more… fluorescent.
I stare at the green plastic bottle Colt’s shoving toward me. It looks like someone distilled radioactive waste and put a label on it.
“Uh… thanks, but…”
“It’s SunDrop. You need the caffeine,” he says, leaning forward, all wide-eyed sincerity as if he’s handing me an elixir of life.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t.” I push it back toward him, keeping my expression flat. I’m still not ready to let him off the hook. My wolf grumbles in agreement. Colt might be Sunday’s brother, but the last few days haven’t exactly left me feeling charitable.
He sighs dramatically, the bottle thunking onto the table with exaggerated disappointment. “You’re gonna regret that.”
“I’ll survive.” I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, letting the silence stretch out. Maybe he’ll get the hint that I’m not in the mood for his antics.
But of course, it’s Colt. He doesn’t do silence. He just grins, that Teflon-coated charm shining through. “She’s gonna flip the fuck out. I can’t wait to see it.”
A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, but I fight it off. “I just hope she says yes.”
“Please.” He waves a dismissive hand. “She’s been pretending not to want this for years.” He rocks his chair back on two legs, utterly carefree. “I bet she cries.”
The thought of Sunday crying in front of everyone makes my jaw clench. “I hope not.”
Colt drops his chair back down with a thud, his grin fading. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and something in his eyes shifts—less mischief, more uncertainty. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
I hesitate, my instinct to keep him at arm’s length still strong. But damn it, I’m not made of stone. “We’re practically family. Shoot.”
He glances away, suddenly fascinated by a crack in the porch floorboards. “Do vampires ever get married? I mean… not just to other vamps. Do they marry shifters or, um, humans sometimes?”
I narrow my eyes, trying to hold onto my irritation, but it’s slipping away, like sand through my fingers. “Is this about Vivien?”
“Nah, just curious.” He says it too fast, his gaze skittering past me like a rabbit caught out in the open.
I exhale sharply, already feeling the inevitable pull toward the role of reluctant counselor. “Sure you are.”
He shifts in his seat, a sheepish smile flickering and dying on his lips. “Look, man, I ain’t got anyone to talk to about this. She’s got me all twisted up, and I don’t know why she stopped…”
I try to stay detached, but the frustration in his voice lands harder than I expect. My wolf huffs, and before I know it, I’m leaning forward, elbows on my knees, mirroring his posture. “Stopped what? Feeding from you? Returning your texts?”
“No, she still likes my blood.” He rubs the back of his neck, staring at the yard like it might offer answers. “We had one night, one really good night, and now she won’t even kiss me. Drinks from my arm and practically bolts afterward.”
I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. So much for keeping my distance. Looks like I’ve been drafted into the Prescott pep squad. Again .
“Have you tried talking to her?” My voice comes out dry, but there’s no real bite to it.
“Have you met her?” Colt raises a brow, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I have. I know her pretty well.”
“Oh yeah, she told me all about that.” He pauses, then smirks. “Does Sunday know you were boinking the boss’s daughter?”
“Boinking?” I lean back, giving him a flat look. “I take it back—we aren’t family.”
He laughs, the sound full of mischief, and I shake my head. “For the record, I’d never keep anything from your sister, especially something that might hurt her. Vampires have a lot of sex, Colt. They don’t hang much meaning on it.”
“Well, then my vampire might be broken.”
“Listen to me.” I sit forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “The fact that she isn’t fucking and feeding, and she’s still staying here in your farmhouse—that’s the meaningful part. Sex is easy. Feelings are hard.”
He nods slowly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Then, because he’s Colt, the shit-eating grin returns. “So what you’re saying is… she’s in love with me.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m saying you’re having an effect on her. You’re making her careful, and that’s not a classic Vivien trait.”
The kitchen door swings open, and Sue backs out, gripping one end of a folding table while Ben handles the other. Colt pops up immediately, scooting his aunt aside. “I got it, I got it. Go fix your hair or something,” he teases.
Sue swats him on the ass with the dish towel over her shoulder. “That one goes down next to the cottonwood tree,” she calls after him. “Cady cleared a spot, and there’s a tablecloth waitin’ for it.”
She drops into Colt’s vacated seat, her sharp eyes softening as she looks at me. “You gonna make it, Tomas?”
I take a steadying breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.” I pause, then add, “Thanks for all your help.”
She starts to wave me off, but I hold her gaze. “Really, Sue. We couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you would’ve managed,” she says, but there’s pride in her voice.
“I wouldn’t have known caramel cake is her favorite,” I counter, “and I definitely wouldn’t have been able to carve a watermelon into a basket…”
“Tomas.” Her voice drops to a softer, more maternal tone. “You could ask her in a rainstorm with a plastic spider ring, and she’d still say yes. Stop worrying, darlin’. She’s smitten, and I’m so glad you decided to do this. It may seem silly, these human expectations, but it means a lot to me—and to her dad.”
I stand, stretching the tightness out of my shoulders. “Thanks again, Sue. Let me see if Ben needs a hand before he kills himself trying to string up a canopy.”
She waves me off with a knowing smile. “You go on. I’ve got the rest under control.”
Out in the yard, Ben’s perched on a low branch of the oak tree, tying off one end of the canopy meant to shade the picnic area. The bright tablecloth beneath it flutters in the light breeze, a picture-perfect moment waiting for its centerpiece.
“You good up there?” I call, shading my eyes as I look up.
He grins, his usual easy confidence in place, one hand gripping the branch and the other tugging the fabric taut. “Just had to show us all up, huh?”
“That wasn’t my aim,” I say with a smirk, grabbing the slack of the canopy to anchor it on the other side. “But if it did, maybe you should try harder.”
Ben snorts, his eyes rolling playfully. “This is me trying.”
He shifts to secure the last knot when a streak of white and blue fur bolts into the clearing. Sumi barrels toward the tree, barking like a demon on a mission.
“Oh, come on,” Ben mutters, glaring down at the puppy circling the base of the tree, tail wagging furiously.
I cross my arms, smirking. “Catahoulas are tree dogs. He’s just doing his job.”
“Tell him his job is harassment,” Ben deadpans, clinging to the branch as Sumi yaps up at him like he’s the world’s biggest squirrel.
The sound of pounding feet follows, and Mishka bursts into the clearing, his face flushed. Lily and Gemma trail behind, panting and looking suspiciously guilty.
“Mishka,” I say, crouching to meet his eye, though I flick a quick glance at the twins. “What did we discuss about having a pet?”
Mishka grabs Sumi’s collar, his grip firm. “That I shouldn’t shift into anything smaller than him.”
“Well, yes,” I say, suppressing a smile, “but we also talked about keeping him leashed to you until he learns to follow commands.”
Mishka ducks his head, guilt shadowing his features. “Sorry, Alpha. He got away from me.”
I don’t miss the way Lily shifts behind Mishka, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. The pack link hums softly as I direct my voice to her mind.
Lily Prescott.
Her response is immediate and defensive. I didn’t do anything.
Are you helping or causing trouble on your sister’s big day?
There’s a pause before she shoots back with a grin I can practically hear. Can I see the ring one more time?
I sigh, keeping my expression neutral as I turn back to Mishka. “How are the wildflower arrangements coming?”
Gemma steps closer, her small voice piping up. “We ran out of black-eyed Susans, and they’re…”
“Let me guess, Sunday’s favorite?”
Gemma nods quickly. “So we was just gonna get some more from down by the spring house.”
“And she likes fox too,” Lily adds confidently.
Gemma scrunches up her face. “Phlox, not fox.”
Lily gives her a playful shove. Sumi goes wild, twisting out of Mishka’s grip again. The puppy tears off in wild circles, barking at absolutely nothing, while Mishka closes his eyes and exhales like a man who’s seen too much.
Sue joins us, taking in the chaos with practiced calm. “Seems like Mr. Sumi’s got the zoomies.” Poor Mishka just shakes his head, clearly regretting all his life choices.
Gemma freezes mid-step, her head tilting like she’s listening to something no one else can hear. Her eyes go wide, sparkling with excitement. “She’s here! She’s here!”
Her voice cuts through the clearing like a spark to dry tinder. Everything erupts at once.
Lily shrieks, “Don’t move!” and bolts for the barn, leaving Mishka clutching Sumi’s collar like it’s a lifeline.
I turn toward the driveway, straining to hear, but there’s nothing yet. The kids don’t care. Lily flies back out, her hair a mess and her face glowing. She skids to a stop in front of me, thrusting a wild bouquet—mostly weeds—into my hands, followed by a slightly nibbled-on cookie that smells of cinnamon and sugar.
“Here!” she says breathlessly. “If she says no, she might be hungry.”
I stare at the bouquet in one hand and the half-eaten cookie in the other, a laugh caught in my throat. “Thanks, Lily. That’s… very practical.”
“Everyone hide!” she shouts, ignoring me and darting behind the tree, dragging Gemma along with her. Mishka sighs deeply, then dutifully tugs Sumi after them.
Ben steps up beside me, arms crossed, a calm smile playing on his lips. “Maybe you should just ask her right away. Get past the hard part, you know?”
“No.” I shake my head firmly, the velvet box in my pocket suddenly feeling heavier. “She’s getting exactly what she told you she wants.”
Ben raises an eyebrow, tilting his head toward the setup—the picnic blankets, the flickering lanterns, the tablecloth fluttering in the breeze. “You know she’s going to read us all like a book the second she gets here, right? This might be her dream picnic, but she’ll know it’s more than that.”
“I know.” My voice softens as I glance at the scene we’ve worked so hard to create. “But I want her to have a chance to experience something entirely normal. Before I shift into a wolf and bite her.”
Ben studies me for a moment, his eyes steady. Then he nods. “Then let’s make sure she feels it.”
I look down at the bouquet in my hand, the flowers a bit wilted but heartfelt, and tuck the cookie into my pocket for later.
“She will.”