That leaves the pad khi mao for me, not that I need the extra spice. Eating gives me something to do with my mouth other than grind my teeth.
“What’s the problem?” he asks after the third or fourth bite.
“I don’t like choosing food for other people.”
“Okay. You could’ve said as much.” Corin shrugs. “I’d have had my assistant order something instead.”
He makes that sound oh-so-simple, but since he opened the door, I follow through. “Then why didn’t you?”
“We’re in my office.” Corin sets down his fork and leans back to gesture at our surroundings. “My territory. I thought bringing the food would give you some say over the ambiance. Some control. Like we’re potential partners.”
A kindness. He’d meant it as a way for me to share power. I’d assumed it was a power trip, with the usual consequences of coming across as an ass as a result.
Now, I also feel a fool.
Digging my fork into the noodles, I fill my mouth with spice, chew, and swallow. My face flushes because of the spice, not embarrassment.
I can’t even convince myself with the lie.
“Look, we all know Johanna some and she knows something of us, but we don’t know each other. We’ll have to learn.” Corin shrugs and picks up his fork. “It’s going to be awkward.”
“Calling it awkward is a cop-out,” I say, ducking my head and watching him out of the corners of my eyes.
“Say what?”
“‘Awkward’ is spilling wine at a deluxe dinner or tripping and toppling over. It’s accidental, not deliberate.” The few bites I’ve taken sit heavily in my belly, so I put the container and utensil aside. Time enough to eat later. “Building a successful pack requires purpose, meaning, deliberate sharing. Lots and lots of talking, even if we never reach the point of mating bonds.”
“I guess you’d know.” A hungry expression flickers across Corin’s face. Longing?
For bonds, perhaps. Pack bonds and mating bonds—sometimes, but not always, the same thing—have a mystical reputation, particularly among those who’ve never experienced them. Purely magic, they rely on reciprocal bites: the first initiates the bond and must be made by an alpha or omega while the completing bite can be made by any designation. Withoutthe completing bite, the resulting weak bond will fade in a month or less.
My shirt and jacket collars mostly hide the scars of my mating bites. Obviously, they no longer link me to my lost lovers. I miss the days when I could tell something of what either was feeling, no matter the physical distance between us, though I never again wish to live through the horrid silence when the bonds snapped with their deaths.
I don’t know enough of Corin yet to guess with any accuracy what he’s thinking; it’s all speculation. Why did I think I knew what lay behind his request that I bring the food?
“I’ve seen too many marriages and packs fall apart because people made assumptions and didn’t bother to check them out.” Drawing in a deep breath and yanking on my tie, I meet his gaze and offer an all-but-apology. “As I did over the food.”
“I could have been clearer, too.” Corin’s graciousness just makes my innards roil all the more. “So where does that leave us?”
“Still talking.” I lean back in my chair and adjust my feet so they’re flat against the carpet.
“And eating.” Corin takes another bite, chewing slowly. “It is good food. You chose well, though I get that you’d rather not have to make that kind of choice for me unless we reach the point where we know each other well enough.”
“The point where you say ‘pizza’ and I know your preferred toppings, or you ask for your ‘usual’ and I know what that means. There’s lots of levels of details, and some are more important than others. I’d rather you pick what you want and say it so we can spend our time on other things.” I try to pull back from dumping my frustration but my alpha instincts take over, making me go add, “And when it comes to gifts, give me a list. Don’t make me guess.”
“Got it.” He raises his fork and nods.
Given the measuring look in his eye and the solemn expression on his face, I believe him—about this—but there’s so much farther to go to build a pack.
“Your turn.” I pick up my fork and dig into the noodles, though playing rather than eating.
“Pardon?” Corin asks.
“You’ve been married and all but in a pack with Max and Johanna—you should know the basic deal by now. I share something about me, you do likewise, and we build things a piece at a time.”The heavy pressure in my stomach remains. Getting along with Corin is crucial if I want Johanna. She’s already lost Max. I know what it is to lose two loves in one go, and I won’t ask anything close to that of her.
“Fine.” Corin sets his fork down and pushes the food to the side; I mirror his actions as he continues. “I really don’t care that much about food, as long as I and the people I care about get proper nutrition. We have a standing order with a local grocery to stock our kitchen, and though Johanna changes things up now and then, I almost never do. I don’t move furniture, either, once a room has a reasonable arrangement that doesn’t involve tripping over things.” His lips twist as he gestures at the office furniture. “Be warned: Johanna likes to rearrange the living room at least once a year, sometimes more often, no matter how much I grumble because, half the time, she’s just going back to last year’s layout.”
“Set in your ways, eh?”
