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Chapter Seven
Locke
Franklin sat down to eat with us, something I had been prepared to encourage, even if he had not done so. For more than one reason. Few people threw me off my game, at all, but with my bear doing some kind of wild dance inside me while chantingmateandmineand other much less PG-rated suggestions about how we should close that deal, my thoughts and words were not lining up at all.
“So, you said you and your late mate set this place up?” I said, just to get him talking so I could spend my time taking in the sight and scent of the other guest at the inn.
“We did.” He smiled, but his eyes held a mixture of emotions I couldn’t entirely sort. Sadness at loss? Happiness with memories? “He was the one with the best taste and all the good ideas.”
“The place is beautiful,” murmured Sheppard. “And I’m very grateful to have been invited to enjoy it for the weekend.”
“I’m glad to have you as well. My mate would have been so pleased to see people coming here and coming together like this.” He held out a hand. “Pass me your plates and let’s enjoy our meal.”
We did as he asked, and our host piled up the roast and veggies then handed back the plates. “Don’t forget rolls.”
They were the kind of soft dinner roll that I’d loved when I was a kid and that almost nobody served anymore. Pulling one open, I slathered it with butter and took a bite. My sigh had Franklin and Sheppard both grinning. “I can’t help it. Can you tell me where to buy some of these? Is there a bakery in the little town we drove through?”
“There is.” Franklin pushed the basket closer to me. “And they are very good, but these come from my own oven.”
“Can I arrange for you to ship me a dozen every week?” I was only half kidding, but Franklin laughed.
“I’m glad you like them. Is the roast okay?”
We both assured him that everything was far more than okay and then proceeded to prove that true by devouring everything in front of us and accepting the offer of seconds. While we ate this serving, a little slower than the first, conversation picked up, and I had the opportunity to learn more about the intriguing omega who was spooning apple butter—homemade as well—onto his fourth roll.
“So, Sheppard, you look kind of familiar, but I don’t think we’ve ever met.” I had been so lost in my bear’s excitement when I first saw Sheppard, I hadn’t realized this, but if I hadn’t seen him before, it was his doppelganger for sure.
He licked a dab of apple butter off his finger, something my bear heartily suggested I do for him, and set down the last corner of the roll. I regretted that—my bear wanted to feed him, not stop him from eating. My animal had never been very present beyond wanting the occasional run until recently when he’d begun to point out that he wanted his mate. And if he had made the comment about any other omega, I might have thought he just wanted someone, anyone, but he never had.
Sheppard was the only omega he’d ever noticed. Those one-night stands I’d had from time to time left him cold. He didn’t show any reaction to them at all. But this rabbit—wow.
“Oh, you might have seen me swimming.” He reached for the morsel and nibbled at it. I unsuccessfully tried to suppress the shudder that ran over me. No one commented on it though.
“Swimming?” Why would I have seen him swimming? I hadn’t been to the beach or even a lake in years. “Where were you swimming?”
He blinked, long lashes shielding his eyes before he answered. “I was in the last Olympics.”
“And the one before that,” Franklin put in. “But he didn’t medal until this one. Gold,” he added helpfully.
“Gold…yes! I did see you, but I was in a sports bar at a meeting with an investor and the sound was turned down so I didn’t hear your name. “That’s impressive.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t say more, and I appreciated both his achievement and his humility.
“You left everyone else in that race behind,” I recalled, suddenly realizing something. My bear had awakened that night from his semi-slumber. He saw him… And it changed everything. “Congratulations on your success.”
“I appreciate that. It was a long-term goal, and one I was lucky to reach.”
“I’m sure it took talent and hard work.”
He reached for another roll. “These are so good, Franklin. Would you share the recipe? I don’t really do much baking, but I would love to try.”
Subject changed.
“Tell us a bit about yourself, Locke. I understand you have your own successes to enjoy.”
I shrugged. “Nothing like an Olympic medal. But I do like my work for the most part. And my office.”
“It’s good to like what you do for your work,” Franklin mused. “Since you do it all day, and I’m guessing that you, Locke, labor on into the night.”
