Chapter 5 Derrick
five
Derrick
She doesn’t leave her room.
Five days drag by, but after twenty-four hours, it’s obvious she’s not coming out, regardless of how many times Major knocks on her door and announces yet another meal.
Jesse starts taking her a plate of food and placing it outside her door.
He’s more tenderhearted and can’t imagine letting her go without food.
When he does it the first time and she doesn’t take it immediately, I wonder if she managed to sneak out and go back to Dallas.
Eventually, the plate disappears and returns a while later, completely demolished.
Her presence is thick in the house. Her scent is maddening, driving me insane even when I’m locked in my room, stroking my hard cock and muttering curses as I do. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder why a Beta smells like that.
It doesn’t make sense, and my only guess is that because we’ve spent too long without a woman, the edges of rationality are crumbling in.
My fucked-up hand hurts, reminding me of a time I couldn’t let it go.
I flex my fingers, frustrated when I can’t move them gracefully anymore, and try to ignore Major screaming the house down because the woman won’t work.
He reminds her of her chores every night.
All she has to do is feed the animals, but Jesse and I are covering for her. She won’t do shit.
“She didn’t eat the pancakes,” Jesse says with alarm.
He pushes the untouched plate over the table, showing me that everything is intact. “And she didn’t eat the chicken potpie yesterday. This is not normal!”
“I think that because you’re obsessed with food.” I chuckle, trying to lighten up the damn mood, but he shakes his head.
“It’s been twenty-four hours since she ate. What’s wrong with pancakes and bacon?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Major says as he arrives, bringing his tension with him.
“Something is definitely wrong with her,” I mutter under my breath, but they both hear me and slice me a look. I raise my hands. “All I’m saying is that we need to figure out what we can do with her. This whole situation? It’s unsustainable.”
And I’m not only saying this because my room is the closest to hers, and I don’t think I can live a day longer with her scent around the house. I want to bring it up to them, but the words die on my tongue when Major curses. He’s tense, and it’s not the time to wonder about some girl’s scent.
I’m probably the only one who is that touch-deprived anyway.
I know Major and Jesse go down to bars when they need to relieve tension.
They never had a serious relationship, and I was never introduced to anyone, but I’m not dumb.
I know what my brother is doing when he leaves for the bar and doesn't return until morning.
“She needs to eat,” Jesse says again.
Major knows something is wrong. He knows he should be grabbing the phone and calling out St. James for not telling us the ranch hand he sent us is a moody girl who won’t leave the room. Something is stopping him from doing just that, and instead of telling us, he just shakes his head.
“I’ll deal with her,” he says, putting the whole contents of her plate in the trash.
My mouth is clamped shut, and I refuse to give my opinion because I know it’ll only cause problems. After my injury, I understood my lot in life.
I was going to be my parents’ burden, hanging out at my childhood home when everyone had moved on, but then Major came for me.
He took me from the darkest place of my mind and brought me here.
I know I’m never going to be part of his pack, but I am grateful that I don’t need to sit back home by myself.
I look down at the scar crossing my palm, and bitterness coats my tongue.
It’s my reminder that I failed while doing the thing I knew the best, so how would anyone want me in their pack?
I’m the useless brother, and I should keep my mouth shut. I know my place all too well.
My mouth is shut when she refuses the sandwich Jesse made her for lunch, and the bolognese dish for dinner. I joke that maybe her suitcase was full of snacks, but neither of them laughs, so I leave them be.
By nightfall, I move to the wild horse pen.
We have a new addition, found around the property, so fucking thin, yet she didn’t want to come to us.
Major managed to get her here, but she’s still suspicious.
She’s a proud white mare with a beautiful coat and strong legs.
She’s majestic enough that I could see her in every competition in the country.
I bet her breed costs thousands, yet she won’t be tamed.
My mind goes to Veda Darling.
It’s hard not to compare when the ranch is suddenly full of wild females. Damn, I bet she’d grab me by the balls if she knew I was comparing her to a mare. The glimpse she gave us showed that prickly personality. The mare aims unsatisfied obsidian eyes on me, and I know my assessment is correct.
“Do you want to be called darlin’ too?”
The mare doesn’t answer my joke, and I wish I were the same reckless cowboy I once was. If I were the same, I would jump over this fence and try to tame her. My hand itches a soft reminder, but I don’t need it. The pain is etched in my soul. I carry it with me wherever I go.
The mare trots close, her movements careful, nose tipped up. Everything stops as she approaches. I almost make the mistake of holding my hand up to her for a pat before I realize her eyes are not on me but over my shoulder.
The powerful scent grabs me by the throat, and I let out a pitiful groan. It’s so overwhelming, I choke as I turn around, coming face-to-face with Veda Darling.
Her brown eyes are as wide as saucers when they land on me, her hand still holding the windowsill where she just climbed from.
Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.
“Good evening, Miss Darlin’.” The smile stretches across my face. I don't remember the last time I was this pleased.
“Hi.”
It takes her a little shifting from foot to foot until she decides that hopping back into the room would be silly.
With arms crossed protectively over her stomach, she moves closer as the breeze carries her scent to me.
The impossible question barrels right into my chest, and I find myself wondering something I didn’t think was possible.
Am I in front of an Omega?
“Tired of your room?” I force myself to turn from her, my eyes back to the pen and on the wild mare.
“It was getting stuffy in there.”
A million questions pop into my head, but again, I refuse to speak my mind. It’s the right call because after a moment of silence, she breathes out the tension and comes closer, hands over the wooden fence and her eyes on the mare.
“Gorgeous horse,” she says softly.
“We rescued her a few weeks ago. She doesn’t like us very much.”
She giggles. “So there’s a theme going on here…”
I chuckle, glad that I didn’t need to be the one to point it out. “I guess we’re not very popular with the ladies. Even when we’re just trying to feed them.”
The comment hangs in the air, but she doesn’t move away or retreat to her room. Instead, she nods. I don’t dare look at her, afraid it’ll be too confrontational. I don’t fucking know how to behave with a woman, so I act like she’s a wild horse and keep my movements to a minimum.
“I can’t eat the food you gave me.”
I frown, and I can’t hold back. I turn to face her. “What's wrong with the food we're giving you?”
She sighs. “I guess when Grandpa arranged this little stay, he forgot to mention that I have celiac disease?”
She has what? I’m on high alert even though I don’t fully grasp what she’s saying.
“What does that mean?”
“You keep giving me gluten. Pancakes, pies, noodles. I can’t eat that.”
Oh. Fuck. I curse the St. James in my mind, but save the colorful names for myself. She’s a lady, and he is her family.
I can’t hide the frown as I grit out, “Yeah, your grandfather forgot to mention that.”
She nods, but she doesn’t accuse me of lying and trying to poison her. It’s clear that it’s not surprising that her grandfather decided to omit this important part of her medical history.
“Let's go. Let me make you a plate of food. No gluten.”
My mind runs a mile a minute trying to figure out what would be gluten-free in that house. I don’t even think I fully understand what gluten is, but I sure am going to try. She must be starving, but her gaze turns to the house, and uncertainty takes over.
“Everyone is sleeping. Ranchers are early risers. It’s rare there’s anyone around after eight.”
It’s the right play because she finally nods and follows me back inside.