“Brooks,” he replies. “Please, call me Brooks. May I touch you?”
I nod in response to both his request and question, still confused about why he’s treating me this way. My brain avoids thinking about it as my eyes are drawn to his work-roughened hands. The opposite of Josh’s, and my stomach swoops when I think about how Brooks could easily fit both of mine between his and I wouldn’t see a speck of my own skin.
“I need your words, Sage.”
“My…? Oh. Yes, al—Brooks. You can… touch me.”
He’s gentle and slow, somehow knowing this is a big deal for me. My eyes dart between his hand and his face as he reaches up to cup my cheek. He smoothes one thumb over my cheekbone and I shudder, pressing into his gentle touch. His chest rumbles with a purr, and a tingle dances down my spine.
“I’m so happy to be spending some time with you,” he says. His voice comes out slightly hoarse.
“I’m happy for that, too,” I whisper, unable to look him in the eye. It feels too intimate. There’s too much to lose for me to face it fully right now.
“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”
He moves his hand from my face to trace a lock of my hair,running it between his fingers as his hand lowers. Then he gestures for me to get back in the truck, and he resumes his spot in the driver’s seat as well.
“Would it be okay if I hold your hand?” He glances at me, and I nod, holding my hand out.
“Your words, Sage.”
Right, that’s going to be hard to get used to. Steve and Josh want to hear me as little as possible; it’s bizarre that this alpha is asking me to speak so much.
“Yes, I’d like that.” I manage to get the words out despite how tight my throat is, but then his smile makes it all worth it. Those full lips and white teeth breaking through the neatly trimmed beard and taking my breath away. I wish I was brave enough to reach up and scratch my fingers along his jaw.
Instead, I avert my gaze, looking down at my baby blue dress.
Then Brooks gently takes my hand in his, resting them on the console between us.
It’s a relatively short drive, only a half hour or so. Brooks asks what kind of music I like to listen to, but I honestly don’t know, so he puts on something low and soothing with a rolling beat.
Then we just… talk. About little things, relatively inconsequential topics that put me at ease for the most part. My birthday (September 25), his birthday (August 30). What it was like for each of us growing up in rural Michigan. Playing outside as kids, and the joy (his) or dread (mine) of snow days. We’ve lived very different lives, although we seem to have quiet and solitude in common. He’s an only child, and I’ve always been an outcast. The unwanted one both at home and at school, the one no one liked or wanted to be around.
Brooks isn’t treating me that way, though.
I frown, unsure what to do about that thought.
I don’t think I’ve talked this much, ever. It’s weird, but in a good way.
In general, I tend not to speak if I can avoid it, not even to myself when the alphas are out. They want a silent servant, and I want to go as unnoticed as possible. My throat already feels a little sore after using my voice so much, but it’s a good ache. A new hurt, for a reason I chose.
When Brooks flips the blinker on and turns into a wide lane bordered by a meadow with a field of purple flowers ahead, my mouth falls open.
It’s gorgeous.
The sign says “Lavender Hills Farm” and I’ve never seen a view so stunning. Rows of light purple flowers spread out before us and my eyes lock on the swaying blooms as he pulls into a dirt parking space and cuts the engine.
“I’m sorry if it’s too cliché,” he says.
I tilt my head as I look down at my skirt, unsure what he’s referring to.
“What with your scent being lavender, I mean,” he says.
Ah. I shrug. I used to like my scent well enough. Lavender is pretty and calming, but my scent has grown bitter and harsh, acrid and soapy when I get too stressed. I don’t like it anymore, but apparently this kind alpha does, so I won’t complain.
He’s still holding my hand, and his fingers squeeze mine to get my attention. I blink the world back into focus, chancing a glance up at him.
Brooks smiles when I meet his gaze.
