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She stared at him for a long time. Thick lashes framed his eyes, and the beard he wore almost hid the dimple on his chin. The sweater and jeans he wore showed off his long, lean form, and the confident way he carried himself, even in an unfamiliar and not particularly welcoming pack.
He was beautiful, and not just on the outside, it seemed. Could he really offer her the life she’d never let herself dream about?
Slowly, she shook her head.
He seemed to let loose a relieved breath, and that easy smile came back, this time engaging his eyes as well, and the sight was breathtaking. “Put aside all the bullshit your dad has fed you and tell me. Tell me, Vivian, who are you? What do you want out of your life?”
She was quiet for a moment, studying him before deciding how much she was willing to confess. This was her mate. She should be able to tell him anything. Even her hopes and dreams.
His gaze never left hers, and when she chewed her bottom lip, he smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Tell me.”
“You know the party today? The BBQ? All the planning and food and games and everything that went into that?” She flexed her fingers. “I coordinated it. All of it.”
“Okay,” he said, seemingly not understanding.
“Thatcher, and my dad think that it’s my mom who does all the planning, but a few years ago, I took over doing it and the events have gotten so much better. Everyone is complimenting her now on what a good job she’s doing.”
“Why does she take the credit if you’re doing all the work?”
“Oh no!” Vivian replied, touching his arm, where his sleeve had been rolled up.
They both looked down at where their skin met. For a breath, neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. As their skin collided, a cool sensation stole her breath. Pleasure slithered across her nerves, lighting them all on fire as the cold became hot. Dampness flooded her panties, and embarrassment flooded her face.
When it seemed she finally remembered how to breathe, that icy grip on her lungs loosened. Mates first touch. If she hadn’t known he was her mate, this confirmed it. She didn’t need the touch to know. Her attraction to his scent was more than enough to prove their bond.
Dropping her hand, she cleared her throat and went on. “My mom helps. It’s not like she doesn’t do anything. She does a lot. But she follows my lead and my suggestions.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Well.” She looked away. “She hates doing it. Hates planning those things, but I love it. She takes credit though, so,” she swallowed, “so that we don’t draw unnecessary attention to me.”
“Because that would mean…?” he prompted.
Unsure how he’d react to the full truth of her home life, to her situation, to the fact that Thatcher might want to mate with her, Vivian switched gears. Clasping her hands, she told him. “I’d love to be an event planner.”
“So do it.”
She shook her head. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“You love doing it. You think you’d want to try it as a career?”
She nodded.
Callum’s fingers touched her chin, directing her face, her gaze toward him. “You’re my mate. Nothing stops you now, got it?”
Hope blossomed. “Really?”
That super sexy smile was radiant. “Yeah, really.”
“So you’ll imprint on me?”
Hope stretched up, beaming from her. Maybe, just maybe, he could get her out of here.
His thumb stroked her chin, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her.
“Not tonight. No.”
She deflated with a huff.
