That meant no paycheck.
I would have to live off my savings in the meantime.
I walked to the local park and sat on a bench, licking my wounds. Had this been a mistake? Had I been so hurt and heartbroken and scorned that I made a rash decision? Should I start looking for something else in case the library never opened?
What in the hell was I supposed to do now?
Chapter Eight
Greg
It was amazing what could get done with the right motivation, and I certainly felt motivated. Maybe Fate sent this omega to light a fire under my butt. Not that I’d been lazy—or that I was willing to accept that he was our fated, true mate. My bear had no doubts, and I could easily see him being ours, but if so, wouldn’t he know, too? The omega was polite, friendly, your basic librarian in demeanor. Nothing about how he behaved indicated he thought he’d found his mate.
When he parked down the street and then came back later and knocked on my door, my heart had squeezed, his scent filled my nose, and for just a second, I’d hoped he was here to tell me he was my mate and ready to start our life together. But of course, that was not the case, no doubt my bear’s and my loneliness speaking.
Until and unless the omega approached me, indicated in some way that he also recognized me as his mate, I would not be pushing the issue. He had accepted my hospitality, and not because I said we should be in a relationship.
But, even having him staying here was a real lift to my spirits. So, after Oswald left for the library, I picked up my paint roller and went back to work on the hallway. Hoping to get it finished by the end of the day and move on to the next project. But as I went to pour the gray paint, I paused. Gray…suddenly didn’t seem like the way to go. Not cheerful enough. My guests should feel uplifted as they entered and headed for their rooms. Popping the lid back on, I went out to the porch and left it out there. Victorians, as I’d researched, were very colorful in their palettes and I had planned to use some of that in the rooms, but why not the hallways as well? Why not everything? None of whatI had on hand matched the vision coming into focus, so a trip to the hardware store later on was in order.
But, first, I wanted to get something done. The plumber had done the hard work, but I had a big, beautiful Victorian sink I’d found at an auction and had refinished just waiting to be installed, and no time like the present to get that done.
The kitchen had suddenly become a priority in my mind. I might not be ready to open to the general public, and that’s why I’d left it for last. For myself, a microwave, plug-in electric burner, and a single pod coffee maker had been adequate. But for our librarian? Frozen dinners and canned soup were not enough. The stove had been delivered the week before, also authentic, although the insides had been modernized, and I could hook that up, too. After painting. But the sink was easy enough to cover with a drop cloth, so I hustled into the kitchen and surveyed what needed to be done.
YouTube was once again my friend. A DIYer showed me exactly what I needed to do, and although it had seemed pretty self-explanatory, he offered several tips that made it much easier. After today, I would no longer be washing my coffee cups in a bucket on the porch. Maybe I’d be able to prepare a meal for the two of us before he moved on to his own place.
It shouldn’t bother me that he would move on. Especially since he was so down about the apartment not being ready yet. Getting safely into it would make him more likely to stick around Oliver Creek and give us time to get to know one another.
Cheered by the thought, I continued with my sink installation, careful not to cause damage to the pipes or the sink or faucets in the process. One of the effects of my taking on so much of the work myself was occasionally having to replace something I broke. Not a big deal when it was a short piece of wood or something, but this sink had been a very expensive restoration.
There was a lot of pleasure to be found in making a home beautiful and useful, something I’d always hoped for but never experienced before. Sometimes, it was hard to see the improvements, lost in the mess created by the process. I knew this, was warned by the DIYers whose guidance I sought every night. Eating microwave popcorn and making notes on a legal pad, I nodded along, admiring their skill and reassurances that if they could do it, I could do it too.
Of course, no project was ever as simple as these home-improvement geniuses made them sound, but I managed to get the sink in place and was in the process of installing the faucets when I heard the front gate click.
My bear came instantly alert.Mate!
Guest,I chided, already on the way to the front door.He hasn’t shown the least interest in us.
His fox knows.
Outside on the porch, I let the topic drop. Bears, at least mine, were impossible to talk out of something once they set their mind to it. I prayed he was right, but without any encouragement from Oswald, I had to reserve judgment for the time being.
But I was pretty darn thrilled to see his face.
Chapter Nine
Oswald
After a few hours of walking around town, being self-deprecating and asking myself a thousand unanswerable questions, I dragged myself to the place I was staying.
I wondered how long Greg would allow me to stay before he kicked me out. He didn’t seem like the type, but his inn wasn’t technically open.
Before walking up to the house, I took one look around the town surrounding the Bear’s Den. Families out for walks. Little ones with backpacks heading to preschool or kindergarten, holding smiling parents’ hands. The mingled smells of multiple food trucks tempted me.
Oliver Creek was so alive and thriving.
I felt like the cog out of place. Not moving. Stuck. Nowhere to go.
“Oswald?” Greg called out from the porch. He must’ve been working on something, and I interrupted him.
