17. Noah #2
She looked at Ro, who was practically vibrating with anticipation for his ice cream. “You think so?”
“I really do. Boxing is a great sport. It’s been good to me,” I said. “Look, I’m not saying it’s a career Ro will pursue, but it would be good for his growth as an alpha, and it’ll provide an outlet for his energy. I’d like to increase his training to twice a week.”
“Twice a week?” Zoey repeated.
“Two classes a week!” Ro piped up, catching the tail end of our conversation. He moved over to Zoey and unleashed the full power of his puppy-dog eyes.
With a sigh that was more affectionate than exasperation, Zoey caved. “All right, then. Two classes.”
He fist-bumped the air. The kid had spirit, and despite the shadow of his father looming in the background, he shone brightly.
When Ro was finished with his double chocolate ice cream, I walked them back to Zoey’s car. I waved to the two men my father had assigned to stay with them until the threat of George passed.
As I watched them drive off, a thought crept in unbidden, warming me from the inside out. I would be honored to call Roland my son. Hopefully, I’d have that opportunity one day.
I woke up on my day off with a smile on my face. My boat was freshly serviced and back at the docks, and the forecast today was perfect for a sail. I wanted to take Zoey out on the lake. I craved her company more and more each day.
A knot of uncertainty formed in my stomach. I’d soon have to have a difficult conversation with Zoey—I had to tell her she was my fated mate—and I wanted to be fully prepared for that. I made the call, agreeing to meet at a local café before I could chicken out.
As I waited for Heather, I clung to the coffee mug in front of me, its warmth seeping through my body. The café was a quaint little place with mismatched chairs and an old piano no one played anymore, but it added to the ambience.
Heather’s hand on my shoulder pulled me out of my thoughts. “You look like you’ve been wrestling with your thoughts rather than boxing your clients,” she said.
“Guilty,” I said, sliding one of the steaming mugs towards her. “I’m not going to waste your time, Heather. There’s something I need to tell you about Zoey.”
She took a sip, then laughed. “Let me guess… she’s your fated mate?”
My mouth dropped open. “How did you?—”
“Come on, Noah. Your face was a dead giveaway. When you saw her that first time, it was like your entire world just... filled with joy.” She mimicked a moony expression, a hand dramatically placed over her heart.
I groaned, hiding my face behind my hands for a moment. “Was it really that obvious?”
“Oh, yes. Little love hearts flying around your head and everything.” She giggled.
“Great,” I muttered. “You don’t have to enjoy this, you know.”
Heather set her mug down. “Sam knows, too.”
“Sam?”
“Yep. You know you’re going to have to ask him for permission? He may not be her biological father, but he raised Zoey with the same love and care as he did me.”
“Permission?” I repeated, blinking. “Right, of course. I promise I’ll talk to him.”
Heather’s gaze softened. “Zoey doesn’t know yet, does she?”
I shook my head.
“Good,” Heather said. “She needs time. If you’d rushed into it and told her after all she’s been through.
You’d have scared her away. Getting away from that piece of shit took a lot out of her.
You were right to wait.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“And Noah, thank you,” she said sincerely.
“For bringing back some light into Zoey’s life. ”
“I’d do anything for her,” I said, my hands steady even though my heart wasn’t.
We finished our coffee, chatting about how things were progressing with the gym and Heather’s clinical duties. As we were putting our coats on and getting ready to leave, I turned on what I hoped was a winning smile.
“Could you do me a favor? Could you keep Ro tonight? I’d like to plan something for Zoey.”
She laughed. “So, all this was just a ploy for a babysitter?”
“Not all of it.”
“Of course, I’ll take Ro for the evening. Make sure Zoey has some fun, okay?”
I smiled at her, then we parted ways.
The moment Zoey slid into the passenger seat of my truck, I could tell she was curious. “Where are we going?” she asked, studying my face for any clues.
“Do you trust me?” I asked, hoping to coax a smile from her.
“Always a dangerous question,” she teased, but there was a lightness to her that hadn’t been there before.
We drove in a comfortable silence until the lake finally appeared before us. Its glassy surface reflected the soft palette of pinks, oranges, and purples of the setting sun.
I parked near the dock where The Dodge it was the connection of a fated mate, undeniable and overwhelming.
“Zoey,” I murmured against her lips, the word a plea and a declaration all at once.
She responded with a soft moan that shattered the last of my control. My hands roamed over her back, every touch a vow of commitment. I was hers, irrevocably.
“Are you sure?” I asked, breathless, pulling back just enough to search her face for any sign of hesitation.
In answer, she pressed herself against me, erasing any doubts. And I couldn’t hold back any longer. We were past the point of tasting—we were feasting on the possibility of a future neither of us had anticipated but desperately craved.