The rest of us went totally still. Dixon stopped pulling out his chair—the one to Tessa’s right. Tray gripped a half-drawn curtain—he'd been trying to block the window that was letting in too much blinding sunlight. Mac hovered in the room’s entrance, a butter dish in one hand and the salt and pepper mills in the other—apparently Tray, easily distracted by nature, had forgotten. I was carved of stone, refusing to breathe and still hoping no one else would claim the chair to Tessa’s left.
She speared berries carefully, a little wrinkle forming on her foreheadas she concentrated, until the tines were fully concealed. She studied the fruit, almost as if she didn’t trust they were edible. I wondered if that was a force of habit too, adopted from digging through trash and hoping what she found wasn’t molded. Tessa lifted the fork, sniffed the berries, her smile bloomed again. We didn’t want to scare her. We wanted her to dive in feverishly, eat with abandon, and know she was safe.
When she finally took a bite, only pulling half of the fork’s contents into her mouth, it was like the entire room let out a collective sigh of relief. Tray finished pulling the curtain. Mac brought the butter and seasoning to the table. Dixon sat down, glancing furtively over at our Omega. Heart pounding, I quickly strode to the table. I was going to take the other seat next to Tessa. Sharing be damned.
But as I pulled the chair out, Josie slipped into view from beneath the dining table and pounced onto the velvety seat.
37
DIXON
THREE DAYS AFTER TESSA’S ARRIVAL...
“Think she’d like these?”I stared at the chocolate covered strawberries I was holding. I’d picked up five different packages, trying to find the best-looking ones. These were dark chocolate dipped and then drizzled with white chocolate. Tray bounced over from the refrigerated cake display.
“We know she likes fruit. And only an alien doesn’t like chocolate. You’ve been debating them for twenty minutes, Dix. Just grab them.” He clapped me on the shoulder. I knew he was just trying to make me feel better, but I was spiraling down into one of my depressive moods.
“I want to get her something nice.” I frowned. We’d practically provided everything Tessa could possibly need already, but I wanted to… to… fuck, I don’t know. Hand her something personal, I suppose. Chocolate covered strawberries. I dropped them back on the display. What a joke. I was a damn joke. I’d never tried to properly date someone.What do I do? What do I say?Tessa was here to be our mate, but I wanted her to like me. I didn’t want her to bond with us out of obligation.
“So, no strawberries then,” Tray said good-naturedly.
I pushed a hand through my hair, feeling the frustration build. "I just want it to be special, you know?"
Tray's expression softened. "I know, man. But you're overthinking this. Tessa isn't expecting some grand gesture. She's been nothing but grateful for everything we've done so far. The way she’s been living before now…” his voice trailed off.
None of us liked to think about the way she was living before she’d arrived in Los Angeles. Picturing her shivering on the streets made me want to tear down the goddamn world. Burn it all to ash. I wanted to stomp my way to Seattle and beat up every fucker who saw her and didn’t help her get back on her feet. I took a deep breath, pushing my Alpha instincts down.
"That's just it," I muttered, moving away from the bakery section. "I don't want her gratitude. I want…” it was my turn to let my words fade off into nothing. I wasn’t sure how to articulate what I was feeling.
"Her to choose you?" Tray finished quietly.
I nodded, throat tight. The fluorescent lights of the grocery store suddenly felt too bright, too exposing.
“It’s what we’re all feeling man.” He laughed, the sound almost startled. “Even me. Imagine that? Me, Tray the ‘loves everyone playboy’ who’s always up for a quickie as long as the person’s hot as hell. Part of me wants Tessa to choose me. Only me. Never thought I’d feel that way about anyone.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, agreeing. It was such a strange paradigm shift. “You know,” I swallowed, and then pushed the words out. “I’m glad she’s here. And even though I want her to want me, it also doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
Tray’s warm brown eyes searched my face. I felt heat begin to warm my cheeks.
“About how I feel about you, Ryder and Mac. All you guys,” I stuttered out the words, feeling like a coward.
“I know,” Tray said simply, a knowing smile softening his face. He cleared his throat seconds later. "What about flowers? That’s simple, classic. Can’t go wrong with roses. She seemed to like those yellow and pink ones.”
I scoffed. "Flowers die.”
It was a stupid fucking thing to say, considering I’d been so damn proud of the bouquet I’d bought to decorate the dining table only a couple days ago. Foolish. Cliché. Already wilting in the vase.
“Chocolate doesn't?” He quirked an eyebrow and I gave him a WTF look. “Die. Gets eaten. You know what I mean.”
"Fair point." I glanced around the store, desperate for inspiration. Why the fuck had I come to a damn grocery store. Should have gone to Rodeo Drive or The Grove. My eyes landed on a small display near the checkout, just as my anxiety was beginning to reach a dangerous level. "Maybe that," I murmured as I started walking over.
Tray followed curiously behind me. A sign above touted the items as last-minute gift ideas. Silly coasters, painted wine glasses, magnets. There was also a collection of small potted succulents. I could see each one was slightly different. Only one of them, though, sported a pink flower. I liked that one. I picked it up, raising it higher so I could study the little thing. I didn’t know why I was drawn to it.
“I’m going to buy her this.” I strode away from Tray, not giving myself time to second-guess.
It was a plant.
How was that different than a bouquet of roses?
