“Wait. Don’t hang up. You are misunderstanding me. I want to go on a date with you.”
“You do?” My heart sped up, slamming against my rib cage, and my bear let out a low rumble inside me. “I would hate you to feel obligated because I was so pathetic last time you saw me.”
“Not pathetic. Sick. Other than not wanting to go out with me, of course. Here I was all excited about a hot alpha agreeing to date me. I’ve never asked anyone out before. Omegas aren’t really supposed to.”
They weren’t? “Growing up with my dads, I think I was exposed to more equality than the average bear,” I mused. “So, I don’t find it odd at all that you’d ask me. It’s an honor.”
“That’s a relief.” He chuckled. “But you never told me how you’re doing. Are the remedies helping?”
“I started feeling better when you were here, a little, and by yesterday morning, I had no fever and it’s been uphill from there.”
“But you’re resting? You were very ill and it probably took more out of you than you know.”
“Yes, I am, as much as possible. I’m very grateful to you for going out of your way.”
We talked another few minutes about this and that before hanging up. We would get together soon. For just a moment, my mind wanted to argue that he was in this for a discount on honey, but the bear was not hearing it.
The bear was sayingmate.
Chapter Eight
Wilder
Lewis did text me, telling me he felt better the next day. He also wanted me to come to his house for dinner.
I’d been there before so it wasn’t strange, but I was used to dates in the city. Restaurants. Movies. Things like that.
We texted for a few days in between the last time I’d seen him and the date. Mostly at night. We both worked hard and owned our own businesses which was, at times, a twenty-four-hour-a-day job in itself.
I closed up shop, walked upstairs to shower and change, and soon was on my way to the farm. The sun lowering in the sky made for such a lovely drive that I almost wished it was longer—and that Lewis was with me.
I parked my car behind his to find him sitting on the rocking chair on the porch. He looked so mad all the time. Lips pursed. Puckered brow. That vein on the side of his head visible.
Was I late?
No. The clock on the dash showed right on time.
Turning to look at me, he stood up. Maybe his thoughts had taken him somewhere troubling. “Wilder,” he breathed. The way he said my name did things to me.
“Hi,” I said, walking up the stairs. “I brought you a loaf of bread from the bakery.”
Lewis took it from me. “You didn’t have to bring anything. I made dinner.”
“I know, but my mom taught me never to go to anyone’s house empty-handed. A hard habit to break.”
“The sun is setting and I thought we could enjoy a dinner picnic. Out by the orange trees. Unless you would rather—”
I put my hand on his forearm. “A picnic sounds fantastic.”
He stared at the place of contact then licked his lips. Goddess, I wanted to taste those lips so badly. “Then let’s go.”
He picked up a large picnic basket covered with a yellow and white gingham cloth. I followed him through the fields and into an orchard, stone fruit beginning to ripen. “These are all peach trees?” I asked.
“No.” He put down the basket and strolled around, pointing to each one. “Peach, plum, apricot, nectarine…” The list went on until he was back at the beginning. “Makes for excellent honey when they are blooming. And there’s so much. Got a stack of orders from the East Coast to be shipped in the fall.”
“That’s impressive.”
He shrugged it off while we spread out the blanket and sat down. The sunset was almost over when lights in the surrounding trees came to life. A few were in the shape of bees. It made for a very romantic backdrop.
