Chapter 37 #2
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just… the AC seems to be acting up. Is it warm in here?”
Dr. Morales glances at the thermostat on the wall. “It reads seventy degrees.”
“Must be me then,” I say. I fan myself with a manila folder. “I’m still recovering from the quarantine. Maybe it’s a side effect.”
I stand up and walk to the window. I undo the latch and push it open, and a breeze drifts in. It helps a little. It clears some of the stale air.
I turn back to the desk, forcing myself to focus.
“As I was saying,” I continue. “If you keep the clinic running while I’m in New York, I can offer you a salary increase. Better than what your team in Austin is offering.”
Dr. Morales leans back in his chair. “That’s a generous offer.”
“You’ve been good to this town,” I say. “And you were very helpful with the crisis at the Copper Creek Ranch. I want you to be comfortable here.”
“And the commission?”
“Fifty percent,” I say. “On all large animal calls. Plus, I’ll sign over the client list. The Archer name carries weight here.”
Dr. Morales whistles low. “Sedona… that is a lot to give away.”
“It’s not giving it away,” I correct. “It’s an investment. I want the clinic to survive. I want it to thrive. I can’t do that from New York, but you can do it here.”
He picks up the contract I drafted. He scans the pages, his eyes moving back and forth.
I watch him. I try to keep my composure.
But my skin feels tight. My heart is racing. There’s a ball of warmth sitting low in my stomach.
It started as a pleasant glow—an aftereffect of the afternoon with Tex. The memory of the daisies, his mouth on me, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world.
But the glow has shifted, condensed into something heavier. A pulsing knot of heat that radiates outward.
I shift in my chair, wincing as the seam of my jeans presses against sensitive skin.
“I will need to look this over,” Dr. Morales says, tapping the papers on the desk, “run it by my lawyer. But on first glance… it looks like a very good deal.”
“Take your time,” I say. “Just let me know before the end of the week.”
He nods, standing up. “Alright. Thanks, Sedona. Really.”
He leaves the office, the door clicking shut behind him.
A few minutes pass before I finally push myself up and head out. The heat is intense; I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.
I pull my phone from my purse, needing a distraction. The screen lights up with a notification: a missed call from an unknown number.
I frown and check the voicemail.
“Hey, Sedona. It’s Cole.”
My stomach drops.
“I know you’re avoiding me. But we need to talk. About the apartment. About… us. Call me back.”
I delete the message.
I debate calling Tex just to hear his voice, just to ground myself, but I stop. He dropped me off an hour ago; I can’t be clinging to him already.
I take a breath, straighten my spine, and walk out the front door. The sun hits me, blinding. I squint, fumbling for my sunglasses in my purse.
“Sedona?”
I freeze, looking up.
Seth is walking up the path, wearing a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
His hair is combed back, neat and tidy. He looks official. Handsome.
He smiles when he sees me, but it falters.
He stops a few feet away. I stare at him, and the ball of heat in my stomach flares. Seeing him—the concern in his eyes, the line of his jaw—makes the heat spike.
“Hey,” I say, my voice breathless.
“Hey,” he replies. “I was just coming back from a meeting with Mayor Ruth. We were finalizing the schedule for the fair, so I thought I’d stop by. See how the meeting went.”
“It went well,” I say. “He’s interested.”
“That’s good.”
He takes a step closer and freezes. His nostrils flare.
I watch his face change. The casual friendliness evaporates, and his expression shifts. His pupils dilate instantly. His jaw tightens, and he grips the strap of his bag.
“Sedona,” he says, his voice dropping, getting gravelly.
“What?”
“Are you… feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, pushing a stray curl behind my ear. My hand is shaking. “Just hot. Is it hot out here?”
He ignores the question, taking another step to invade my personal space. He leans in. He doesn’t touch me; he just breathes.
The groan that rumbles in his chest is barely audible.
“You’re not fine,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
He looks around, checking the parking lot and the street. “Where’s your car?”
“Tex dropped me off earlier.”
“Where is he now?”
“He went back to the ranch to practice.”
Seth curses under his breath.
“Seth, you’re scaring me,” I say. “What is it?”
He looks at me, his eyes intense. “Your scent,” he says. “It’s changing. Right now. While I’m standing here.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, then rush back in. “No,” I whisper. “No, I took the pills. Maggie gave me the injection.”
“Maybe it wasn’t enough,” he says. “Or maybe the virus cleared your system faster than they thought. I don’t know.”
He reaches out and touches my arm. His skin is cool against mine.
“You’re burning up,” he says.
I sag against him, my knees weak. The heat is a wave now, crashing over me and pulling me under.
“I feel dizzy,” I admit.
“I need to get you home,” he says. “Now.”
“Seth, I can’t go to the ranch. If I’m… if it’s a heat…”
He wraps an arm around my waist, supporting my weight.
“Come on,” he says. “My truck is right here.” He guides me down the steps, and when I stumble, he’s quick to catch me.
“Seth, wait,” I say. “I can’t leave the clinic unlocked.”
“I’ll lock it,” he says. “Give me the keys.”
I hand him the keys. He quickly locks the front door. He returns in seconds.
He helps me into the passenger seat of his truck. He buckles me in. His hands are gentle, but they shake slightly.
He runs around to the driver’s side and climbs in. He hurriedly slams the door before starting the engine.
“You okay, Sedona?”
“Not sure.”
He turns the AC all the way up and points the vents directly at me. “Better?” he asks.
I nod. The cold air definitely helps, but the heat inside me is growing. It’s a throb now, a pulse between my legs.
I look at him.
He’s gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. A bead of perspiration rolls down his temple.
“Seth,” I say. “Are you okay?”
He laughs. It’s a harsh, strained sound. “No,” he confesses. “I’m not okay. Being this close to you… while you’re starting a heat… it’s torture.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize,” he snaps, then his expression softens instantly. “It’s not your fault. It’s biology.”
He throws the truck in reverse and pulls out of the lot, driving fast with his eyes locked on the road, refusing to look at me. I watch him, noting the tension in his shoulders and the way he holds his breath.
“Seth,” I say again.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He glances at me, just for a second. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”
We drive in silence as the trees blur past the window. The heat in my belly spreads, moving down my thighs and making my skin tingle.
I shift in my seat, feeling the slick start again, warm and wet against my panties. I whimper and watch Seth’s jaw clench in response.
“Hang on, Sedona,” he says. “We’re almost there.”
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat. I think about Tex, the daisies, and that ball of warmth. But now, the warmth is a fire, and it’s threatening to burn me alive.
I grip the door handle. I just need to hold on—hold on until we get to the house, until I can lock the door and ride this out alone.
But a part of me—a traitorous, Omega part of me—doesn’t want to be alone.
I look at Seth. His profile is sharp against the sunlight. He’s focused. He’s protecting me.
I want him. I want him to touch me. I want him to put out the fire.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t think like that. I won’t.
I just need to survive the next ten minutes.