The Beta's Blind Date

Chapter 5

TARYN POV

Reid stares at me from his side of the table, those baby blue eyes wide and unblinking. He folds his hands on the top of the table, looks down at them and then back up at me. “I’m sorry, I — what?” he asks.

I huff out a dry laugh and sigh. I still can’t believe my luck, that the best match the app could make for me was with a male who doesn’t actually want a mate. A male who doesn’t even date. How or why he’s even on the app is beyond me.

“I said, since we’re not mates, there is no reason for me to try to wrangle you into another date.”

He shakes his head, clearing whatever thoughts he has there. “Right,” he says, rubbing his short beard. “Right. That would — that would be silly. A waste of your time.”

“We can even just call it a night now, if you want,” I tell him, though in my head I’m crossing my fingers that he says no.

“No, no,” he says, lifting his hands, the veins in his exposed forearms bulging. “Like I said, I made a promise, and I’m going to see this through. I told Seb I’d take a female on a proper date, and that is what I’m going to do,” he adds, tapping the table in punctuation.

“All right.” I shrug, casual as ever, but inside I am cheering.

He may not be my mate, or be looking for a chosen mate to settle down with, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the delicious man in front of me. Yes, I want a mate, but I will not turn down an evening with the fine specimen of a male sitting across from me.

Because damn, he is fine. He’s in a simple outfit consisting of a white button up and black slacks, but he is wearing it. He’s left the top three buttons of the shirt undone, revealing the edge of a tattoo on his left pectoral, and through the fabric of the shirt I can see it extends across his chest, to his shoulder and down his left bicep. He’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and there is another tattoo on the inside of his right forearm.

All I can think about is how many other tattoos he has and where they are on his body. I bet he has a lot. I bet they’re incredibly sexy. I bet he has a six-pack, too. And now I’m imagining him shirtless. Shirtless and glistening with sweat, either from a workout or a “workout.”

Chill, Taryn, I think to myself, as I take a sip of water to cool off.

I try to think of anything other than him shirtless. The last thing I need is to become aroused and for him to smell it. Although he’s probably used to it. And it would be fun to see just what makes Reid Thomas so notorious.

No! I think again, giving myself a mental shake. He doesn’t want a mate, and you don’t want anymore ‘just for fun’ relationships, and you definitely do not want or need a one-night stand. It will be this one date and that’s it.

It is too bad though, that he doesn’t want more dates after this. And not just because of how he looks, but because I can tell there is more to him than meets the eye. He is more nervous than I would have expected of someone with his reputation. Then again, if he’s never really been on a date, then that might explain the nerves.

But the nervous laughing and fidgeting with his hands — like playing with the condensation on the water glass — just makes him more endearing. More real. And there is something else. Something just under the surface, another side of him. A side I am guessing he doesn’t let just anybody see.

“My best friend, Blake, made my Date-to-Mate profile too,” I tell him. “After Alpha Dominic decided he couldn’t man up and commit and I stopped sleeping with him, she apparently put the app on my phone and created the whole profile and everything.”

In the dim light of the restaurant, it’s hard to tell for sure, but I think his jaw clenches beneath his neatly trimmed facial hair. But as soon as I register it in my mind, it’s gone, and he’s laughing. “Sounds like her and Sebastian are of a similar mind. They’d probably get along splendidly.”

I laugh, nodding. “Maybe we should set them up!” I suggest.

“I would say that’s a genius idea, but Sebastian is waiting for his mate.”

“So is Blake!”

“How old is she?” he asks.

“20,” I tell him.

He nods and then opens his mouth to say something, but the server comes back to our table and cuts him off.

“Are we ready to order?” he asks us.

“Oh, I — I haven’t even looked over the menu,” I say, scrambling to pick it up and open it, only to find it is completely in French.

“I’ll give you a few more minutes?” he asks, and in my periphery, I see Reid nod and smile at him.

A megawatt smile that would melt even the iciest of hearts.

I stare at the menu, then peek at Reid over the top, and he’s just sitting there, hands folded on the table, eyes watching me as he waits.

“Do you know what you’re getting?” I ask him.

“The coq au vin,” he replies in flawless French.

“You speak French?” I ask, and he nods. I set the open menu down in front of me and point at it. “Can you read this?”

“Yes,” he says. “Or, you can just tell me what kind of food you like or don’t like, and I’ll ask Claude to make you something amazing,” he says with a wink.

“You know the chef?”

“I do.”

“So, do you bring all the girls here?” I ask, leaning my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my fists.

“N-no. Claude joined our pack when he moved here and opened the restaurant,” he sputters. “I promise, you are the first girl I’ve ever brought here,” he says, swiping his hand through the air and then resting it on the table.

He sits back in his seat and rubs his face again with his other hand. I rest mine on top of his on the table, and his eyes snap to it, staring at it as I pat his hand.

“Relax,” I tell him. “I’m only teasing.”

“Right,” he says, giving himself a shake. “Right,” he repeats. Then he waves at the server. “Can I speak to Claude?” Reid asks him as he approaches.

The server nods and leaves again, and we both sit there, waiting, neither of us saying anything. With anyone else, I would want to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. But with him, it feels natural. Normal. There is no expectation — from either of us — and that means there is no pressure. I can just be myself and not have to worry about rejection at the end, because we’ve already agreed there is no reason to move forward or see each other again after tonight.

We’re just two people having an enjoyable meal together. It’s refreshing.

A short, bald male werewolf approaches our table, wearing a traditional chef’s hat and coat, and his eyes light up when he sees Reid.

“Reid!” he declares in a thick French accent.

“Claude!” Reid replies, rising to greet him.

He holds his hand out to shake, but Claude pulls him in for a hug, patting him on the back and speaking to him in rapid French. My eyes dart between them as they converse, but I don’t have the foggiest idea of what either of them is saying.

“This is Taryn,” Reid says to him in English, gesturing to me. “She’s new to the area and hasn’t eaten here before.”

“Lovely to meet you, mademoiselle,” he says, switching to English and taking my hand and kissing the top, a gesture which I think causes Reid to clench his jaw again. “I will make you something incroyable.”

“Merci,” I reply, nodding at him with a smile.

His grin broadens, and he turns to Reid, saying one last thing to him in French before hurrying back into the kitchen.

Reid stares after him, then sits back down, taking several short sips of his water in a row, followed by one large drink.

“What did he say?” I ask.

He sets the almost empty glass down and glances at me for a long moment before he speaks. “He said you’re marvelous,” he replies. “And he said he’s glad to see me finally taking things seriously with a woman. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it’s not really a date.”

I chuckle. “So tell me, how’d you learn to speak French so well?”

“I took it all throughout high school and Claude tutored me whenever he could. He wouldn’t even let me speak English around him for the first two years of high school. By the time I was a junior, I was already fluent and probably knew more than the teacher, but I took the class for the last two years of high school anyway, since it was an easy A.”

“But why French?”

“It’s the language of love,” he says with a shrug, his cheeks tinting pink as he looks down at the table. “I figured it would be a surefire way to get the attention of the ladies.”

“Does it work?”

He lifts his bright, sparkling blue eyes to mine. “You tell me.”

“My lips are sealed, Cookie Monster Beta,” I say, zipping my lips with my fingers.

“Oh, goddess, I can’t believe that’s the name Seb gave me,” he groans, lowering his head to the table. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Hey, it’s better than Tearin It Up,” I reply.

“At least yours makes sense!” he exclaims, sitting up again. “Taryn Campbell. Tearin It Up,” he says, moving his hands from one side of his plate to the other. “Not embarrassing, and it fits with your actual name.”

“How is yours embarrassing?” I laugh. “I think it’s cute.”

“It’s embarrassing, because it’s Seb and he didn’t give it to me thinking ‘oh this is cute.’ He did it with malicious intent, just like everything else he does. Making fun of my love for perfectly warm cookies fresh out of the oven,” he mutters under his breath. “Everyone knows they’re the best that way,” he adds.

I laugh again, and he blows out a sigh, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we please talk about something other than my cookie obsession?” he rushes out.

“Yes,” I say with a nod.

“What do you do?” he asks. “In Silver Ridge.”

“I’m training to be a warrior,” I tell him. “I was in the top ranks of the warrior training program in Sunrise Canyon — my old pack — but I had to start at the bottom again here and prove myself.”

“Why? Why not just let you challenge someone for a spot, or give you some sort of — like a trial period or something?”

I press my lips together and look at my hands in my lap, fidgeting with the edge of my dark brown corduroy skirt. “I suppose it has something to do with my wolf,” I admit, meeting his eyes again.

“Your wolf?”

I nod. “She’s… smaller… than most other female wolves. That’s why I’ve worked so hard in training sessions since my first shift. I didn’t want to be judged by the size of my wolf alone. I wanted everyone to take me seriously and see that wolf size isn’t everything.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a small wolf,” he says. “A small wolf is agile and can hide easier or sneak through small spaces.”

“Yes, and Beta Dawson agrees. But I think Dom — Alpha Dominic also let his feelings get in the way. Even though he claims it was all just fun between us, that it wasn’t anything serious or ever going to be anything serious, I think he was trying to protect me, that he didn’t want to put me in danger by making me a warrior for the pack.”

“Hmph,” he grunts, his eyes darkening. “That’s stupid. A smart alpha would use every warrior available to them. We’re werewolves. Danger is just part of our lives.”

“Like I said, it’s only a guess. He never said any of that to me, but I definitely got the feeling that those were his reasons, even without him ever confirming.” I shrug. “Maybe once he accepts that things are over between us, he’ll see he was being unreasonable.”

Claude approaches us from the kitchen, pushing out a cart with two covered dishes on top, and he gives me a polite nod. “Pardon my intrusion,” he says.

“It’s no trouble,” I reply, waving his apology away. “You’re bringing us food. We can’t be angry about that, can we, Reid?”

“Not at all,” he agrees, laughing, the dark look in his eyes gone. “What do you have for us, Claude?”

“For you,” Claude says, lifting the lid from one dish and handing it to Reid. “Your favorite — the coq au vin.”

“Fantastique,” Reid says, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

“And for you, Mademoiselle Taryn, I have made the sole meunière,” he says, lifting the lid of the second dish and setting it in front of me.

The delightful scents of butter and lemon fill my lungs and my mouth waters, ready to enjoy the delicious, freshly cooked fish.

“This smells wonderful,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

“Enjoy,” he replies with a smile and another nod, wheeling the cart back into the kitchen.

I place my napkin in my lap and across from me, Reid does the same. He picks up his knife and fork, both poised and ready to cut into his meal, but then he pauses, looking at me and waiting.

I press my lips together, very aware of him watching me as I cut into the flaky, fresh fish, inhaling again as all the scents mix and float into my nose, teasing me with the hint of how it will taste. I try to ignore his eyes on me as I take my first bite and chew, savoring all the flavors as they combine to create a symphony in my mouth.

“Good?” he asks, and all I can do is nod in response, my mouth still slowly chewing the delicious fish. “Good,” he repeats with a laugh, diving into his own meal now that I’ve begun mine.

“You know, if you ever want a fresh set of eyes or some pointers on your fighting form, I would be happy to help,” he says as we eat. “Seb and I have been running the warrior training at Crescent Lake for over five years now, and not to toot my own horn or anything, but we’re pretty damn good at it.”

“Thank you,” I reply, wiping my mouth with my napkin. “I’ll… think about it. But I don’t want anyone from Silver Ridge to think I’m cheating or getting a leg up,” I add, putting the napkin back in my lap.

“Well, the offer is on the table. Should you ever change your mind.”

He smiles at me, that same killer smile he gave the server earlier, and I return it without a thought. He may have a reputation as a player, and I can’t say I don’t see why the girls are so willing to crawl into his bed, but he’s also kind and funny and smarter than he lets on.

Someday — whenever he decides to settle down and find his mate — he is going to make some lucky girl very happy.