9. Stephen
STEPHEN
As I unlocked the office, something was ringing.
I’d heard it before but only once. The landline. I bounded into the office as Remy was coming in through the door that connected to the house.
I slid over the wooden floor and leaped onto the desk. “Yes.”
It wasn’t Posy’s voice on the other end this time.
“Stephen.” My insides turned to mush at that syrupy voice that reminded me of honey twirling from a honey wand and the owner of that voice catching the very last drop.
“Yes. This is he.” Oh shit, why did I answer so formally?
“Oh, it is, is it?” There was a smirk in his tone. “Great, I was wondering if we could meet up?”
Assuming Posy would be there, I agreed. I could hardly ask him to leave her with the babysitter. If I hoped he’d warm to me and recognize the mating bond, telling him to leave his daughter elsewhere wasn’t the way to his heart.
“Posy has a Miss Caitlin night, which means she’ll be next door having a sleepover.”
“Oh.” Much as I adored his daughter, one-on-one time sent my pulse racing.
“Unless you prefer that I bring her along.”
“No, I wouldn’t want to spoil her fun. Sleepovers are the perfect opportunity to stay up late, play hide-and-seek in the dark, and tell ghost stories.” Maybe I was showing my age when young kids today probably spent all their time on their tablets.
“Nah, wouldn’t want to do that.” I could hear that smirk again through the phone.
This was a dinner date, well, not a date date but two people getting together to enjoy good food and conversation. That was his intention I guessed, whereas if I was honest, I wanted to walk in and say, “You’re my mate,” wait for his response, and if he agreed, I’d take him home and we’d have sex.
But this meal would be us eating and me staring into his eyes and inhaling his scent, and my fox would be pestering me about marking. We had cleared one hurdle and he didn’t have an omega mate, though I tried not to think about how that came about.
Remy was sitting on the edge of his desk, looking up the name of the restaurant I’d repeated.
“Nice,” he mouthed before I could say my goodbyes to Clyde. He added, “I’m so excited,” when I ended the call.
“You’re not coming on the date with me.” I shuffled papers on the desk, pretending I was working when I was running my mind over what I would wear.
“Oh, so it is a date.” His eyes gleamed, and I rolled mine. His reaction was so over the top, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he hid in the bushes outside the restaurant and eavesdropped.
I shrugged a response and didn’t discuss it for the rest of the day.
But the next night when I was getting ready. My belly was doing cartwheels and somersaults, and I leaned against the front door, wondering if I was doing the right thing.
Yes, you are. Get out the door and meet your mate.
Except he might not be mine. He’d given no indication he was ready for another relationship or that fate had told him who I was. So was it better to be friends and yearn for something I couldn’t have or have him dislike me? Him suggesting we get together didn’t sound like he’d soured on me.
I arrived first because I was done playing games.
Besides, my legs wouldn’t support me, and I rested my hand on the back of each chair I passed as the host showed me to the table.
I put the napkin on my lap, then refolded it and put it back on the table.
I studied my glass of water as if it held secrets and inspected the cutlery to make sure they were clean.
“Hi.” I hadn’t scented him as I was so absorbed in what I was doing, so he’d snuck up on me.
That voice. He could make millions doing voiceovers and dubbing, though he had a face to match, so why wasn’t he on screen?
“Hey.”
“You’re here.” I almost smacked my head because what was that? It was something you said when you had nothing to say.
“Mmmm.” He unfolded the napkin by flicking his wrist. It was so dramatic, reminding me of a character in a famous spy movie. I did the same but my napkin just collapsed.
We ordered drinks while I racked my brains trying to think of something to say.
“I know who you are.”
I almost leaped over the table and planted a kiss on his lips.
But reality intruded when I ran my mind over his words.
He hadn’t said I was his fated mate, but he recognized in me that he was mine.
If he’d met me tonight to tell me we could never be mates and to forget about him, my life wouldn’t be any different than it had been since the night of the phone call.
I gripped the edge of the table and downed my drink.
“How does that make you feel?” Shoot, now I sounded like his therapist.
Holding his drink, he twisted his wrist so the contents of his glass whirlpooled. “Interesting way to describe a fated mate.”
My heart raced and my thoughts tangled because who was whose fated mate? I didn’t dare hope… nah, I was hoping that he was talking about… oh damn, I was getting confused. Was I his fated mate? That was what I had to get out of him.
The napkin finally came in useful in place of a fan, and I flapped it hard, the noise mimicking a bird’s wings.
“Ummm, can you spell that out for me?”
“M-A-T-E and F-A-T-E-D.”
I narrowed my eyes. He was doing this deliberately. I was convinced of it because his spelling was accompanied by that now familiar smirk.
Clyde leaned back in his hair and put his hands behind his head. “Yes, you are my one and only, the first one I’ve ever had.”
That was a whole lot of information in one mouthful, but my fox was squeeing and saying he knew it all along when he hadn’t. I put a hand to my chest because suddenly there wasn’t enough space for my heart. Closing my eyes, I begged the universe not to let me die, not now.
As I gasped for breath, a hand was placed over mine, and my eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?” Gods damn it. I couldn’t say one sensible thing with this man around.
“I think it’s acceptable for fated mates to, you know, touch one another.”
I gulped because he said the magic word, mates. “Ummm, yeah, but… you’re not winding me up, are you?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Not sure what that means, but you’re my mate, and I’m pretty sure I’m yours.”
Those were the words I’d been hoping to hear for days, and now that he’d said them, I was lost for any other words. So I squeezed his hand, and he smiled. Not a smirk this time but a grin that had me melting and sliding down in my chair.
Clyde came around and propped me up. “We should order because you might have low blood sugar.”
I had something but doubted it was from lack of food.
As we were tucking into our meal, I kept sneaking peeks at his jaw, how he held his fork, and the little dimple on his chin. He was so damned cute and now he was mine.
“Feeling better?” He twirled some spaghetti on his fork, and I swooned. Yes, I’d never been 100% clear what that was, but now I knew.
“Mmmm.” I was more clearheaded than when he’d announced he was my mate, so I needed details about his life. “Let’s rewind a little. Your first mate wasn’t fated?”
Clyde launched into an explanation of how he came to be Posy’s dad. That was so sad but also heartfelt that he’d chosen to be her father. My eyes were misty, and I blinked away the tears.
“I have a confession. That night when I raced to your house, I thought you were either dead or a deadbeat dad.”
Now it was his turn to choke up. “That could have been a disaster, and it was my fault for not putting better backup systems in place. It’ll never happen again.”
I nodded and decided not to tell him I was going to report him. I would but not tonight, because once we finished eating, he took my hand again and didn’t let go.
“My house is empty tonight.”
Oh, he was missing Posy. That was sweet. “But she’s just next door, so you could go and get her.”
He pressed his lips together. “I adore my daughter, but I don’t want her at home until tomorrow.” He stood, still with his hand in mine. “I was rather hoping you might come home with me, mate.”
“My place is closer.”