CHAPTER 8
“The way you make me feel.”
Henry
I gently guide Everett to the passenger side door of my truck, my hand grazing the bottom of his spine simply because I can’t stop myself from touching him.
The way his eyes simultaneously sparkle and soften as he beams up at me makes my fucking knees weak.
We know nothing about each other and yet he looks at me like I hung the moon, and fuck if that doesn’t make me want to do just that.
I have to take a centering breath as I move around to the driver’s side. Now that I know he’s my mate, his scent has intensified, and it takes more control than it should to keep my bear from taking over.
Wearing a pale yellow shirt and navy cargo shorts that contrast with his fiery curls and the freckles of my mate's youthful face, my eyes don’t know which part of him they want to devour first. Which my bear is taking literally.
He’s ready to claim our mate in the middle of the street.
I really need him to chill the fuck out or he’s going to blow this for both of us.
We have to let him set the pace. You can’t be in charge here. Relax or you will scare him.
I spent the whole journey here warning my bear not to do this. I know he understands me. He just doesn’t fucking care. Then again, he is an animal ruled by baser instincts. All he wants to do is eat, sleep, and fuck. Not necessarily in that order.
Mate.
Rolling my eyes, I brace a hand against the top of my car to give myself a few moments.
If my bear thinks it’s easy for me to sit here surrounded by Everett’s mouthwatering scent, and refrain from mauling him, then he’s fucking wrong.
I feel like I’ve been holding my breath since I stepped into the cafe this morning.
My mate smells divine. The musky scent of arousal mixing with the ever-present smell of freshly baked honey bread still masks his animal’s scent, but that’s okay.
That’s what our picnic is for. To get to know each other.
To find out what makes my mate smile, laugh, even what makes him cry, so I can be sure to never let that happen.
There is no higher priority for an alpha, a good one at least, than to make sure their omega is the happiest being on the planet.
That thought reminds me of the gift I brought for my omega. I’m still not fully confident that giving Everett a gift box of Walnuts is the right gift, but I can’t ignore my instincts again. I just hope he won’t think it's stupid.
Taking one last calming breath I slide the picnic basket into the footwell behind the driver's seat, noting how the blanket secured on top matches the material around the basket. Such a small detail, but doesn’t that just show how much care and attention my little omega put into this picnic?
“Is your bear giving you a hard time?” Everett asks as I slide behind the wheel.
“Am I that obvious?” I ask, feeling embarrassment flush my cheeks while starting the engine, avoiding eye contact. God, he’s going to think I have no control over my animal.
“Kind of, but only because Syril is going nuts so I can totally relate.” He chuckles and my hand pauses on its way to the crankshaft, my pulse quickening.
“Syril?” I aim for interest, but my tone veers into jealousy without my consent.
Great, he really is going to think I’m an asshole.
I swear, I used to be cooler than this. I just never considered my mate might have a boyfriend or situationship with a guy who would be pissed Everett found his mate.
This is a curveball I was not expecting and my bear is once again growling his displeasure… loudly.
“You didn’t name your animal?”
My brow creases further in confusion, but he continues talking, clearly missing the look of bewilderment on my face, before I can ask what the hell is going on right now.
“I named my squirrel Cyril, but spelt with an S. The alliteration makes my brain happy. Syril the Squirrel. Rolls off the tongue right?” He looks so pleased with himself. His smile infectious.
My cute as hell omega is a squirrel shifter.
That explains why he loved my shirt so much this morning.
Never in a million years would I have guessed the fates would bring me a squirrel shifter.
I chuckle to myself as realization dawns on me why I chose the walnuts.
My nameless bear knew from the beginning.
The laugh dies as quickly as it appeared when disappointment or perhaps embarrassment flickers across Everett's features like a grey cloud dulling the sunshine.
“Hey, hey. None of that. I’m not laughing at you.
” I reach for his hand and intertwine our fingers.
His hand feels so small and delicate. “It’s adorable that your animal has a name.
” His gaze is focused anywhere but on me and I know I fucked up.
“Maybe you could help find a perfect name for my bear?”
Everett’s eyes jump up and lock with mine. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. I haven’t felt the need to give him a name before but now he demands one.” I chuckle, and it makes him smile. “I should explain what I found funny, though. I promise it has nothing to do with Syril, or at least, not in the way you think.”
“No, you don’t have to. It’s okay. I can be overly sensitive sometimes.”
“Yes Everett, I do. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re less than or that I don’t cherish every little idiosyncrasy you have.
I want to know everything about you. Each little scrap of information that you choose to share with me is a gift.
” I assure him, one hand resting on his cheek as the other reaches behind the passenger seat to retrieve the gift box I prepared for him.
“I wanted to bring you something, to mark our first date. I didn’t understand at the time why I was so sure this would be the right gift.
Now I understand.” I grin holding the decorative wooden box out.
I wish I had the time to carve something more than our initials and a small heart into the lid.
“You don’t have to give me anything.” He takes the box from my hand, tracing his delicate fingers over the H and E, following the grain of the wood.
He looks at me then, like I just lassoed the moon and handed it to him.
He hasn’t yet lifted the lid. The box alone was enough for him.
Fuck, he’s perfect. “Just the fact that I’ve found you is present eno—-,” he stops midsentence and gasps.
I have no idea if it’s an oh wow gasp or maybe a what the fuck one. “How…”
“If you don’t like it—”
“Like it?” He interrupts me. “Henry, I can’t believe this.”
Reaching inside, he pulls out three cleaned walnuts. Twisting them in his fingers in a way I would have no hope of replicating. I watch as he examines them closely, bringing them to his nose and inhaling their scent. His actions not unlike a jewelry specialist appraising a diamond ring.
“How did you know?” He looks at me with glistening eyes.
“To bring you nuts?” He nods. “It was more of an instinct, I think. I wanted to give you something that my land offers. Not something artificial. I wanted it to come from Mother Nature.”
“You have walnut trees on your land?” He asks with excitement.
“Several, yes.”
He gently places the box on top of the dashboard like it's something precious and reaches inside the pocket of his shorts, pulling out… balls? Noticing my confusion this time, he turns to face me, that bright smile back on his face.
“These are my walnuts.”
“Nuts?” I ask disbelievingly. They look almost perfectly round.
Leaning across the console to take a closer look, I can make out the natural wood-like grain of the shell beneath the surface that gleams a warm, honey-brown luster.
In places, it shines like polished mahogany or aged amber, made more prominent by the deep creases remaining dark like blackened veins searching for the heart.
They look rougher, ridges that make a beautiful pattern, but as I reach out to trace my fingertip over one, I realize even they’ve been smoothed, encapsulated somehow.
“How are they so smooth, sweetheart? Did you find them this way?”
“I roll them.” He explains, doing just that, producing a satisfying click each time they connect with each other.
I’ve seen people use sensory balls like this at my old job.
Metal balls used to stimulate the senses and provide calm while occupying the hands.
I asked a colleague once why they always rolled those balls along their fingers during meetings, and he said it helped him focus.
“How long have you been rolling these nuts to make them so smooth?”
“A very, very long time. Since I was a child. I think perhaps they’re due for retirement.” He puts the shiny balls inside the wooden box on my dashboard and puts the walnuts I brought him into his pocket.
Stunned, I stare at the box in my hand, the contents feeling far heavier. Not the actual weight but the significance “You are gifting these to me?” I ask, unsure why he would give me something he’s carried around with him for most of his life.
He is the one to lean into me this time. “Of course, I am silly. Now you have something of mine that you can carry around with you. You can even show them to people, I love showing people my balls.” He grins, taking the box from my hands and holding it safely. “So, where are we going?”
Instead of answering his question, I surge forward and crash my lips to his, swallowing his gasp turned moan.
As much as I wish I could deepen this kiss, reach over and pull him onto my lap so I can thank him thoroughly for such a thoughtful gift, we are still parked on the street outside the cafe, unfortunately.
Reluctantly pulling back, I drop several light kisses on his lips, pressing my forehead to his, hoping that my actions speak louder than any words I could form to express what this gesture means to me. Preferring privacy for a conversation like that. I chose to answer his question instead.
“It’s a surprise but what I can tell you is that there are a few walnut trees around, so if Syril wants to go nuts again, he can.”
“Will we have privacy to shift? I would love to meet your bear and I know Syril would very much like to climb all over that big body.”
The rumble of the engine as I start my truck rivals the growl that bubbles from my throat.
My sweet little omega has no idea what images those words create in my brain.
I'm almost sure he meant that comment innocently and literally, but I can’t help picturing my pretty little omega climbing all over me, wriggling and writhing in desperation.
“Yes sweetheart, we will have privacy, not another soul around for miles so we can be as loud as we want, take as long as we need, and even make a mess if the occasion arises.” My cadence drops low as I sneak a sideways glance to check if my tone has the intended effect on my Omega.
Everett physically shudders, and I don’t miss how he subtly clenches his thighs.
His easy responsiveness has my cock hardening painfully behind my zipper.
I want nothing more than to pull my truck over to the side of the road and taste every inch of Everett.
I promised I would be good though. I want to treat my omega right, so fully loaded innuendos will have to suffice.
Being a gentleman sucks. My bear chuffs his agreement.