Page 58 of A Pack of Pumpkins
Good. I want her to do whatever makes her happy.
“I have one more question for you,” I say.
“Okay.” She beams up at me, and my chest aches. For one horrifying moment, I thought I’d never see that smile again.
“I’d like to take you on a courting date. It’s been so crazy around here, we haven’t had the chance, and I wanted to see if you were free.” My palms are warm,my pulse in my throat. I want her to choose me. This is the first time I’ve asked outright.
Her smile widens, and she nods without hesitation. Her scent is nothing but baked apple goodness.
“Good,” I say, grinning right back. “Tonight after your shift? If you’re up to it.”
“Definitely. I’m sick of being cooped up in my room.”
I lean down, capturing her lips in mine. They’re soft, familiar, and grounding. She slides a hand along my cheek and into my beard, her fingers curling in it like she’s anchoring herself to me.
I can’t wait to take my omega out and show the whole world she’s mine.
Jack
Myfirstcourtingdate,ever. That’s kind of pathetic for an alpha in his early thirties, but it’s true. I’ve been on plenty of regular dates, but I’ve never formally courted someone. I just never felt that instant connection. That spark that made me believe I’d found my person.
With Clara though? It’s a no-brainer.
I won’t waste my opportunity to prove I’m the person to take care of her for life.
But I’m not showy like Victor or lyrical like Bram. I’m into easy comforts and traditions. And I’ve noticed Clara’s love for the autumn season. So, when she asks what she should wear, I tell her jeans and a warm shirt will work.
To my delight, she comes down in just that. Jeans that hug every curve and dip of her perfect ass, a soft purple flannel unbuttoned just enough to hint at the curves beneath, and black boots. Her hair is done in two French braids, the orange melting into black like Halloween licorice. She’s an autumn dream, and the fire that sparks in my core heads straight for my groin. I want to do filthy, reverent things to her in those jeans.
In the front seat of the car, she smiles while telling me the gossip from her shift at the Evergreen Café. When we pull up to our destination, she spots it and actually squeals in pure, unfiltered joy.
A rustic cabin marks the entrance to the orchard. People wander with cups of steaming cider and cinnamon sugar doughnuts, scarves tucked under chins.
I hop out and circle around to open her door. She giggles softly before stepping out. “It’s okay, Jack. I can open the door for myself,” she says with that teasing smile that makes me want to spoil her even more.
“I know you can. But why should you if I’m around?” I counter. She looks at me like she can’t think of a good answer.
“I hope you don’t mind a little work on our date,” I go on. “I figured apple picking sounded fun. I saw that picture you have from apple picking years ago. That’s where I got the idea.”
She smiles, but it’s a small, sad one that twists something in my chest. I reach for her hand, slowly, so she can pull away if she wants. Instead, she squeezes back. Permission.
“My mom passed in a car accident when I was almost fifteen,” she says. “That picture was from the autumn before. We’d gone apple picking. She was out getting groceries and hit a patch of ice.”
My chest tightens. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I’m so sorry.”
She nods, then asks, “What about your parents?”
“They’re in Minnesota. My mom’s an omega. She had two alphas, but one passed from a heart attack before I was born. My dad’s a good man, but he’s pretty old-school. When I was younger, because I liked cooking and homemaking, he feared I might be an omega.”
“Feared?” she echoes, eyebrow lifting.
“I know it makes him sound bad, and he wasn’t perfect. But I never doubted he loved me. Still… when I presented as an alpha, he was so relieved it left a mark. I chose my job partly because it’s mobile, but partly because I knew he’d approve. But he was also there for every nightmare, every baseball practice, my first job. It’s complicated.”
Webuy tickets, get our bag, and head toward the rows in season.
“If you could’ve chosen without his influence,” she asks, “what would you have done?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Homemaker.” It's the first time I've ever said it out loud to anyone. I've always been worried about other people’s reactions.
