11. Cole
Cole
I am an ass.
The words rip through me every time I catch Sunny's glare.
When she'd met us on the front porch in that dress, I nearly fell to my knees and begged her forgiveness for how I'd spoken to her these last few months.
She looked like the sunshine she was named for, so bright and fiery and hot.
Her smooth legs peek out from beneath the skirt and I can't help but imagine wrapping my hands around them and spreading them apart.
She makes me feel like a clown in my suit and tie.
That may be the point. To put us to shame.
I had no doubt she was trying to send a message about us as mates.
That we're too opposite. Little does Sunny know that she's standing in what is essentially my dream.
Living here, in Lakeside Point, with a home and roots and a beautiful life.
She's so young, in her twenties. She's the only person listed on the paperwork as the farm's owner.
Has she been doing all of this herself? Every bit of fire and steel I've seen in her so far tells me that she can, and is.
I bet this Little One can do anything if she decides to.
But what a burden to put onto anyone to do alone. Even I ran my business with my pack.
We sit down for this dinner. This delicious fucking meal that I don't deserve because I've been a complete dick.
True, I'd thought I was talking to some middle-aged farmer—maybe an alpha—just too stubborn to see a good deal.
Just because that's what I thought didn't make my persistence, or rudeness, more excusable.
Being here now, seeing how fiercely Sunny protects her farm, and how much love she's put into it, I can see why money wouldn't be a good enough reason to give it up. Things are a lot different in reality than they are on paper. Somewhere along the way, I'd lost that.
We keep catching each other's eyes while the food is passed around.
Sunny doesn't drop my gaze, and I can't tell if it's challenge or curiosity.
Maybe both. She smells like honey and tea.
It makes my mouth water and my cock hard in my pants.
Thank god we're sitting. But the tea is bitter.
Like it's been steeped too long. I don't think that's her usual scent.
I think that's the scent of stress for her.
Although I can't say for sure since that's how her scent has been since we met her. Goddamnit.
I need to fix this, but how?
I touch the box containing the charm bracelet in my pocket.
Would now be a good time? I glance at her and then let my hand drop.
The anger in her eyes tells me it won't be well received yet. Self-loathing boils in my gut. Have I fucked this courting—this courting that my pack needs so badly—before it’s even started?
Maybe . The thought guts me.
I stab the chicken on my plate. It's like ash in my mouth even though I know, logically, it's the best damn chicken I've ever eaten.
With the omega looking at me like that, nothing's enjoyable.
When Luca and I started a pack in college, we vowed to become more successful than our upbringing.
With my investments and his artistic abilities, we've succeeded. Hunt’s interiors and Jess's marketing skills have added to that success.
If I fuck up a courting with our scent-sensitive omega, our mate, I may as well have destroyed the last ten years of success.
She's that important to our pack. So, instead of wallowing in self-pity, I begin forming a plan.