Chapter 4

REID POV

My knee bounces as I sit in Wesley’s truck parked outside of Rendezvous. It is one minute until six pm, and I should be inside already, but I am not. I grip the steering wheel, then grab my phone and send off a message to TearinItUp.

Me: Running late because of the snow. Reservation is under the name Stephen.

I toss the phone on the passenger seat and press my forehead into the wheel, groaning. I used my middle name for the reservation, since the entire premise of Date-to-Mate is to remain anonymous until you meet face-to-face. And because my original plan was to drive down here, sit around for a few hours, and then drive back home, so Sebastian will at least think I’ve fulfilled my end of the bet.

But now that I am here, I am waffling on my plan. I can’t just stand someone up, even if it’s someone I’ve never met. I am many things — a player included — but a man who breaks his word and his promises is not one of them. And with my luck, that plan wouldn’t fool Seb, anyway.

My phone buzzes and I snatch it up, my eyes scanning the message.

TearinItUp: No worries. I gave them your name, and they seated me. I’ll wait to order until you arrive.

I blow out a breath and drum my fingers on the wheel as I give myself a pep talk. “Okay, okay. You can do this, Reid. You can have dinner with a girl. You can make small talk. You can end the night without her in your bed. You’ve got this.”

I give the wheel one last squeeze, then I hop out of the truck, closing and locking it behind me.

I stroll down the sidewalk to the little French bistro, and pause at the door. The hint of peonies tickles my nose, which is odd since they’re not in season. My wolf perks up in the back of my mind, but I push him away, opening the door to Rendezvous and stepping inside.

“Hi,” I breathe to the hostess. “I’m a little late, but I believe my date was just seated? Reservation for Stephen?”

“Oh, yes, we just seated your girlfriend. You can follow me and I’ll take you to the table,” the hostess says with a smile, waving at me to follow her.

We walk through the archway to the dining area. The lights are dim, with candles on the white tablecloths of each table. The tables are all small, giving off an intimate vibe, and they are spaced far enough apart that you don’t feel you’re infringing on someone else’s date, while still close enough for the restaurant to seat as many people as possible.

I shake my head as I follow the hostess around the tables and through the dining area. “She’s not my girl—“

But the scent of peonies I got a hint of before entering the restaurant hits me in full force, mixed with peaches and strawberries, cutting off the rest of my words. The scent takes me back to summers by the lake, when the flowers of the packhouse garden bloomed in full and I would race along the shore, splashing through the icy water without a care. It brings up memories of cutting fresh fruit in the kitchen with my mom to mix with homemade vanilla ice cream, or to can and turn into preserves, or to put into a pie or cobbler to take to a picnic with the Stones and the Shepards.

It’s so fragrant, so sweet. It has my knees buckling and my heart skipping a beat in my chest. I never knew a scent could be so powerful, so meaningful, but the proof is filling my lungs and capturing my soul. My wolf pushes forward, fully attentive, as the dark beauty at the table the hostess has led me to turns to meet my eyes.

My mate.

My blind date is my fucking mate.

I want to melt into a puddle and sink through the hardwood floor. I want to turn tail and run out of the restaurant. Jump into Wesley’s truck and speed back up the mountain, and lock myself in my room in the packhouse.

But I can’t.

Because there are people all around us, and I can’t be dramatic. And because the woman at the table is already standing, her long legs carrying her to where I stand frozen. She smiles at me, holding her hand out for me to shake.

I don’t know what to do. I never expected I’d meet my mate in a crowded restaurant full of humans. There is no way I can tell her I don’t want her, because the scene it might cause would draw too much attention. And I can’t yell out “MATE!” like my wolf is pushing me to do, for the same reason.

Plus, I don’t even want a mate.

And I definitely can’t shake her hand. I can’t let her touch me, let her feel the bond between us. From what I understand, the feel of skin to skin contact between mates is beyond what anyone can even imagine, and I can’t let her have even a taste of that, because then she’ll only want more, and it will be even harder to get rid of her.

I close my eyes and clench my teeth, holding my breath. Her scent is too much — everywhere around me and in me — and I can’t focus on anything else.

“Are you all right?” she asks, placing her hand on my forearm, just under my rolled-up sleeve.

My wolf forces me to open my eyes, and I look at her hand on my arm, marveling at the contrast between her smooth dark skin and mine, a zap of pleasure shooting down to my fingertips.

My gaze travels up her arm to her face, to her eyes that are darker than the moonless sky. A frown wrinkles the skin on her forehead, her eyes scanning over me. My first instinct is to rub my thumb over it, to smooth it out so there is nothing marring her beautiful raven skin. But I close my eyes again and clench my fists to keep myself from giving in to that ridiculous notion.

“You should sit,” she says, taking my hand and guiding me to the chair across from hers at the square table. “Can we get another water?” she asks the hostess, and the retreating steps towards the kitchen tell me she left to do as my mate asked.

My mate.

Her reaction to meeting me confuses me. Now that we’re sitting, now that my shock is clearing, I realize she didn’t react to me at all. Her pupils didn’t dilate, her nostrils didn’t flare. She didn’t even flinch when she put her hand on me, when our skin met for the first time.

“Here,” she says, handing me the glass of water already on the table. “I didn’t drink any of it yet. I’ll take the new one they bring out.”

I stare at her, then stare at the glass, at her hand wrapped around it. Her hand that touched my arm and held my hand, her hand that definitely sent sparks across my skin. I take the glass without a word, brushing my fingers against hers on purpose. Just to test. Just to see.

Another jolt zips up my arm from my fingertips, and I grit my teeth again. Inside, my wolf, heart, soul, and brain wage a war, each fighting to be the one in charge of my response to her. Outside, I am the picture of calm, an iceberg in a tumultuous sea.

Or at least, I hope those are the vibes I’m giving off.

Again, she doesn’t even react to my touch. No blinking, no sharp intake of breath. Nothing.

I take several sips of the water as my mind races. What do I do? How should I proceed? I could just yell out “MATE!” and see what she says.

But that means claiming her out loud. And I don’t want to claim her. How would that look if I claim her, but then I say, “I’m going to reject you?”

And I can’t just shout out “MATE!” in the restaurant. Not with humans around.

The pieces click together. That must be it. She’s not acknowledging it because we’re in public. Okay. I’ll just play it cool, too. I can be just as nonchalant as her. I can pretend her scent isn’t the most heavenly thing I’ve ever smelled. I can pretend her presence and her smile aren’t making my wolf turn circles in my mind.

“Sorry. I must have gotten lightheaded,” I tell her.

“It is a little warm in here,” she replies, nodding, her curly hair bouncing with the movement. “And you probably had your knees locked, which doesn’t help. You should feel fine once you have a little more water and have been sitting for a bit,” she continues with a smile.

“Right,” I say with a dry chuckle, setting the half empty glass on the table, playing with the condensation.

Like she doesn’t know the real reason I reacted the way I did.

“Here’s that second water,” a server says as he approaches our table, and I still the movements of my hand as it draws a spiral on my water glass.

“Thanks,” my mate replies, turning her bright grin to him.

My wolf growls in my mind, hair standing up at the nape of his neck, and I grip my chin, covering my mouth to keep the sound from slipping through my lips and rubbing my jaw to hide my reaction.

Shit, what is wrong with me? Why should I care if she smiles at the server? She’s just being friendly. She’s just being polite.

Stupid wolf.

Stupid mate bond.

“I know you haven’t had time to look over your menu, but can I get either of you some wine while you decide? Perhaps the most recent vintage of pinot noir from Vigne Della Luna, or maybe some champagne?”

“Oh, no, I am just fine with water,” my mate tells him, shaking her head.

Those coils bounce again with the movement, ensnaring my attention with their spiraling dance.

I lean forward, her words and my wolf driving me to speak before I can think. “Hey, you can order whatever you want,” I tell her. “Don’t worry about the price.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “I just don’t drink alcohol.”

I blink and lean back in my seat, grabbing my water and taking a drink to hide my face.

“What about you, sir?” the server says to me.

“Nothing for me,” I reply, raising my water glass. “I’ll stick with water too,” I tell him with a half smile.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says as he walks away. “I don’t mind if people drink in front of me.”

“No, it’s not that,” I reply, putting my glass down again. “I don’t — I don’t drink either,” I mumble, pressing my lips together once the words have left my mouth.

Why did I tell her that? I don’t even know her. I’ve never met this woman and I’m telling her something I’ve never even admitted to my best friends.

Stupid mate bond.

Stupid wolf.

“Really?” she asks, her brows raising.

“Yep,” I sigh, looking down at the table, at the navy blue napkin folded like a swan on my plate.

“Why?”

“I just don’t,” I rush out so my wolf doesn’t force me to disclose any other personal details to this woman.

“I used to,” she tells me. “But a drunk driver killed my parents. That’s why I moved here just over a year ago. My aunt — my mom’s sister — is the only family I have left, and she lives here. I mean, in Silver Ridge. My parents used to live here too, but my dad had a job offer in San Diego just after they mated that he couldn’t pass up, so they moved down there before I was even born. But I wanted to be with family, so I came here.”

I nod as she talks, my eyes fixated on her face as her emotions play out across her features during her story. My heart aches, like her pain is my pain. Her eyes go distant, her voice trailing off, and we sit in quiet for a moment.

“Oh, goddess!” she exclaims, dropping her face into her hands. “I can’t believe I just did that. I’m so rude!”

“You are far from rude,” I chuckle.

“I’m over here pouring my heart out to you, telling you my sob story, and I haven’t even introduced myself!”

“It’s really not a big deal,” I reassure her. “I’m not upset.”

“Taryn Campbell,” she says, ignoring me and holding her hand out across the table.

I eye it, staring at it like it’s a cobra about to strike. It has to be a test. She’s too composed, too easy-going about this whole situation. About us being mates. She must be waiting to spring the trap, to catch me off guard, and then that’s when she’ll drag me under, take me into her clutches, and beg me to never leave her.

My eyes travel up the sleeve of her black turtleneck back to her face, to those starless night eyes, eyes that hold no hint of malice or cunning. She’s just smiling, waiting for me to reply, waiting for me to shake her hand and tell her my name.

I don’t get it. I don’t understand why she isn’t reacting to me at all. Why am I literally a hot mess over here while she is relaxed and poised over there? It should be the opposite. I should be the cool one, the one telling her she doesn’t have a chance with me, while she is on her knees begging me to not reject her.

I give myself a mental shake and another mental pep talk. “Come on Reid. You can do this. You are a beta wolf, the beta of Crescent Lake. You have faced worse than this, and you will face worse than this in your life. You can shake your mate’s hand, and you can be just as nonchalant and distant about this whole thing as she is.”

I grit my teeth and grip her hand, giving it two firm shakes. “Reid Thomas,” I reply.

Her eyes widen and her hand stills in mine, her jaw slack. “Seriously?” she asks. “You’re Reid Thomas?”

“Last I checked,” I say.

Her head tilts up to the ceiling, and she lets out a laugh. It’s pure and joyful and fills the restaurant with light. Eyes of the other customers turn to her, mostly males, and I have to suppress the urge to growl at them, have to force my wolf back again so he doesn’t push through and make me yell out and claim her in front of all these people.

“Of fucking course you are,” she says through her laughter, wiping her eyes. “Of fucking course, when I decide to search for a mate, I get matched with the playboy of Crescent Lake, the male who everyone in the area knows has no interest in settling down at all.”

“Ironic, isn’t it,” I chuckle halfheartedly, wishing for the first time in my life that I had a drink in my hand that was stronger than water.

Because there it is. Spelled out in plain English. She wants her mate. She wants the one thing I don’t want. And now I am going to have to pray to Selene that she’ll meet back up with me when it’s the full moon so we can complete the rejection.

“What are you even doing on Date-to-Mate then?” she asks.

I inhale deeply through my nose, trying to ignore her perfect scent, then blow the breath out through my mouth. Honesty. Honesty is the best way to go here. If I am honest with her from the beginning, the entire rejection will be less of a blow. And it’s not like I have anything to hide. My reputation for flirting and bedding women is known throughout the area.

“I made a bet with Sebastian — Alpha Wesley’s younger brother — and I lost,” I admit.

She leans forward on the table, folding her arms to hold her weight, a sparkle in her eyes. “What was the bet?”

“He bet me that I would break one of my rules.”

“And which one did you break?”

I grimace and look down at the table. “No sleepovers,” I mutter. “He caught Imogen — Luna Haven’s friend — and I sneaking out of a guestroom the other morning. The bet was if I broke one of my rules, I would have to go on a date with someone he picked, and it would have to be a proper date; dinner, dessert, actually talking to each other and getting to know each other, and no sleeping with the female at the end of the night.” I rush the whole story out, still looking at the table, bracing myself for her to turn into a raging green-eyed monster after hearing about me sleeping with Imogen. “He created the whole profile for me and everything,” I add to fill the silence.

I look up at her and she’s shaking her head, her shoulders trembling with silent, withheld laughter. “That tracks, to be honest,” she says. “It makes way more sense than you suddenly deciding you wanted a mate or a serious relationship.”

“I may sleep around, and I may not want a mate, but I always keep my word. I always uphold my end of a promise, even a promise to myself,” I tell her, hoping she catches my hint.

“I can respect that,” she says, sitting up straight again. “And now you can check this date off of your list and after tonight we can part ways and you’ll never have to see me again if you don’t want to.”

I cock my head to the side, my brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

I see what she’s doing now. She’s trying to get me to admit it first, to claim first. It will not work, though. I don’t want a mate. I don’t want to claim her. If she wants me to admit it, then she’s going to have to claim me first.

“Well, you’re only on this date because of a bet, not because you have any intentions of actually settling down. I only went through with a date because I am ready to settle down, and since you don’t want to settle down and you’re not my fated mate, there isn’t any reason for us to go on more dates.”

I blink at her, distracted from my mental calculation of when the next full moon is, because I either hallucinated, or she just said we’re not mates.

But I definitely scented her and felt the mate bond between us. My wolf definitely recognizes her as his.

What the fuck is going on?