We’re supposed to be moving this fallen tree off the road, and here I am thinking about letting them fuck me against it instead.
I don’t usually have trouble staying on task when we’re in the field, barring a few admiring glances here and there.
Charm grabs my arm, stopping me before I can get away.
“Hey. Are you doing okay?” he asks quietly.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “Just zoned out for a second. I’m sorry.”
We move to the side, and Magnus starts up the truck, dragging the tree off the road.
After we unhook the ropes, Orion tells me to take a break. Charm must have told on me.
Rest won’t cure my problem, but I get in the truck without argument, watching the others finish up.
I lean my head against the cool glass.
I’ve tried to ignore what’s between us, but I can’t, and it’s only getting worse. Exhausting myself to thoughts of them at night hasn’t worked.
Maybe my plan isn’t feasible. Maybe I can’t handle working with my scent matches until my training is over.
What if I have to leave the team until I’m free to pursue them?
Do they even want me back?
What if?—
Cato bumps me with his shoulder and presses against my side, bringing my spinning thoughts to a halt.
I manage to keep it together for the rest of the workday, but something has to give.
I don’t want to go downstairs.
I could stay in my rooms and avoid the problem, just for tonight. Except I doubt that would work. They would worry and check on me.
My omega thrills at the thought.
I can’t stay up here moping for much longer, or they’ll notice my routine is off and come looking.
My hair is still damp after the shower, but I’m often toolazy to dry it. I only need to get dressed and I’ll be ready to go down for dinner.
A knock sounds at the door.
I was too slow.
I grab the nearest clothes, a sweatshirt and frilly lounge shorts, and throw them on.
I open the door just as Henri raises his hand to knock again.
He smiles and reaches like he’s going to cup my face but catches himself. His hand drops, though the smile stays in place.
“I’m making roast chicken and mashed potatoes for dinner. Does that work for you?” he asks.
“That sounds great. Everything you make is delicious,” I say.
I’m clutching the doorframe to stop myself from moving closer. It’s like there’s a magnet inside me drawing me toward them, and it’s growing stronger by the day.
“If you ever have requests, I’m happy to take them,” Henri says.
