The Gamma's Reluctant Mate -The Wolves Of Winter Valley Bk 3

Megan POV “Oh! He’s here! It’s not even Tuesday! I knew I was getting to him!” My mother said, rushing into the kitchen, her hands fluttering wildly as she crossed the room to the mirror she kept hanging near the back door. From the corner of my eye, I watched her fluff her fuzzy, over-processed, blonde hair, then freshen her garish coral lipstick. I’d heard a little about her latest conquest from the other waitresses but had yet to actually see him. He must be something pretty special if he sent Bonnie Clay into a dither just by coming into the restaurant. She prided herself on being confident and unflappable, primarily where men were concerned, and right now, she was neither. Carla Posey, our full-time server, came breezing in with a smile on her face. “I cleared table seven for your friend, Bonnie,” she said, looking at me and rolling her eyes when Bonnie wasn’t looking. “Thank you, Carla,” Bonnie sang and hurried out, tying an apron around her waist. Carla came over and leaned against the side of the dishwasher I was trying desperately to fix. “I tell you, Meg, I don’t care for your mother at all, but I almost pity her. It’s painful to watch her falling all over herself for that man. He’s half her age, and everyone knows he’s not interested. Everyone except her, apparently.” I pulled my head out of the dishwasher that time forgot, with the offending, non-working piece clutched tightly in my hands, and looked at Carla with brows pinched in confusion. “He’s half her age?” She scrunched her face up, expressing her distaste. “Yeah, he’s not even thirty; at least, he doesn’t look it. He’s rich, though…and hot, so I guess age doesn’t matter,” I snorted in derision. “Not to Bonnie, it doesn’t.” Carla shrugged. “Need some help?” Starting toward the back door, I glanced over my shoulder and smiled. “Sure, grab that bucket of soapy water and that wire brush and follow me.” I set the greasy clump of machinery down on the resin table I’d set up outside in the alley. Carla set the bucket and brush down next to it. “Why don’t you just get a new dishwasher? I swear that thing is older than Bonnie,” she said, her voice heavy with exasperation. “Believe me, that’s the first thing on my to-do-list when I finally take over here, but for now, Bonnie says ‘no.’ You know, it might take money from her self-care expenses, and that’s far more important than clean dishes in a timely manner,” I grumbled as I picked up the brush and began to slowly scrub away the blackened grease from the metal parts. My mother was 58 years old and refused to accept it. She spent thousands every year on health spas, personal trainers, and plastic surgeons to keep herself looking as young as possible. Money that should have gone into updating the restaurant kitchen, the décor, and the menus, she’d spent on herself and her relentless pursuit of youth. Her mission in life was to land a rich, good-looking husband, and she complained that the older she got, the younger she had to look to beat out the competition. Someone had failed to mention to her that looking younger only worked if you didn’t also look like you stumbled out of a trailer park at dawn after a bender. I never understood how she could work so hard and spend so much to perfect her face and body, only to dress them up in the tackiest ways. My father had been gone eight years, and she hadn’t even drawn a second glance from a rich, good-looking man. It made me feel sorry for the man who currently held her attention. She was getting desperate, and I imagined she was out there laying it on pretty thick. Of course, it must not bother him too much if he kept coming in every week. “By the way, I love your hair,” Carla said, dragging me out of my thoughts. “I bet Bonnie had a fit! Whatever possessed you to dye it purple?” I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading over my face. I had dyed my hair to irritate my mother. Just like I’d gotten every piercing and tattoo. If my mother hated it, I was totally into it. Seeing the incredulous expression on her face was worth every slap, kick, and punch. Altering myself was the one thing she couldn’t stop me from doing. It was a reminder that she didn’t have total control, and that pissed her off. Call me a glutton, but I loved it. That abusive, evil b***h controlled my restaurant, most of my money, my work schedule, and my duties, but she couldn’t control what I did to my own body, and every time she pissed me off, I reminded her of that fact by doing something new. Childish? Perhaps, but I didn’t want her to forget that her power was limited. I wasn’t excessive with it. I wasn’t that brazen. My hair was dyed, but I could have the color stripped if I chose. My piercings weren’t overly abundant or shocking, and they didn’t draw attention. My ears were done four times, which was pretty standard. I had one eyebrow done, my nose, my tongue, and I had a Monroe piercing, one of those that looked like a beauty mark above the left corner of my mouth. I had precisely eight tattoos of varying sizes and subjects and in various, easily covered, places all over my body—the most visible being the band of Celtic knots around my left bicep. “Purple is my favorite color, and Bonnie blew a f*****g gasket when she saw it this morning,” I said, grinning proudly while leaving out that she’d also attacked me and tried to rip my hair out by the roots, then threw a jar of pickles at me when I managed to escape her grasp. Carla dropped down into the chair on the opposite side of the table, tightened the band around her curly brown ponytail, and frowned. “Meg, I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.” My gaze drifted from the mechanical mess in front of me to the concern in her charcoal gray eyes. “Okay…” She shifted her gaze away and smoothed her hands down the front of her pants. “Missy said that she came in early last week because she’d had some special-order trays to make up for the firefighter’s community barbecue...” she paused and bit her bottom lip as if she was afraid to finish her statement. “Uh… She said that she saw Bonnie hit you… Is that true?” The hand clutching the wire brush fell limply to my side. Bonnie was usually cautious about when she chose to lash out at me. She knew the restaurant schedule like the back of her hand, and somehow, she’d missed a special order that brought in one of the employees long before her shift. Now, our secret was out. Embarrassed, I went back to scrubbing the grease from the broken dishwasher part and tried to ignore the question. “Megan… Does Bonnie hit you?” There was no ignoring it. Fuck! I shrugged. “If I piss her off bad enough, she loses control. It’s no big deal,” I answered, trying for nonchalance. Carla got to her feet. “The hell it is. Megan, that’s abuse.” “I’m 24, Carla. I don’t think it counts when the child is an adult,” I said, still refusing to meet her eyes. “Then file assault charges on her! You shouldn’t have to take that,” she insisted. I set the brush down and braced my hands on the table. “But I do. I have to take it because she controls the trust. My father’s will is very clear. If I get arrested, I forfeit the restaurant to her. If I hit her back, even in self-defense, she will have me arrested. If I walk away, I forfeit the restaurant to her. One wrong move, and I could lose everything. My father loved this place. He had big plans for it, for us. Now, it’s up to me to see them to fruition. So, I have to take whatever she dishes out. If I don’t, my father’s legacy will be destroyed. She will sell it in a heartbeat, take the money, and run off to the west coast. I have three months left before my birthday, then Nebula is mine, and I can boot her ass out the door. Three more months and I’m free. Please don’t say anything to her or anyone.” “Carla! I need you out front!” My mother’s disgustingly fake, honey-sweet voice floated through the open door. Carla’s head swiveled toward it, then back. “You better go. I imagine the new customer is a threat to her attempt to woo the object of her affection,” I said and poured the remaining soapy water over the machine part to rinse away the rest of the grease. She nodded briefly. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but if I see her do it, I won’t be able to keep that promise,” she said and went back inside.   Adam POV   I was only in Raven’s Crest on Tuesdays for my weekly check-ins with the managers of the Winter Valley-owned businesses in the area. Unfortunately, not one of those businesses was a restaurant, so I’d been stuck either packing a lunch or hitting a fast-food drive-thru. That is until Lucy Brighton, High Priestess and mentor to our pack witches, had recommended Nebula for its fantastic lobster roll, thick-cut, seasoned steak fries, and super-creamy coleslaw. It was love at first bite, and I’d been spending my Tuesday lunches there ever since. The food was so incredible that not even the annoyingly flirtatious older owner could chase me away. It was so good that when Drake Lawrence, my friend, and cousin of our pack’s Alpha, announced that we needed to go into Raven’s Crest that Saturday afternoon to shop for tuxedos, I all but ran for my car, volunteering to drive. The driver got to pick where to stop for lunch. Nebula, here we come. “What is it with you and this place?” Seth Quincy-Raymond, the pack Beta and husband of our Alpha and Luna, asked as I maneuvered my SUV into a parking spot. “Oh, my Goddess, dude, the food here is amazing. The owner is a bit much, but the food makes you forget all about her,” I said as I shut off the engine and pushed open my door. Drake met me on the sidewalk. “What do you mean the owner is a bit much?” Ordinarily, I would brag about women flirting with me, but this woman was older than my own mother and far more blatant than any woman I’d ever encountered. I sighed as Seth joined us. “She flirts…a lot. If she weren’t so much older than me, I’d swear she was trying to get me to ask her out.” I admitted, starting toward the door, and inhaling deeply as I reached for the handle. The distinct scent of Nebula’s garlic and herb roasted chicken drifted on the air with a light sweetness mixed in that I couldn’t identify. “Mmm. I think I know what I’m having already.” Drake and Seth exchanged grins and proceeded me into the restaurant. As I’d expected, Bonnie came rushing over to us before the door even swung closed. “Adam! What a wonderful surprise! I wasn’t expecting to see you until Tuesday!” she exclaimed, linking her arm with mine. “I’ve got table seven all ready for you.” She guided us through the restaurant to a booth located in the center of the room across from the long diner-style bar. “What can I get you three gorgeous specimens to drink?” I ordered a sweet tea as I slid into the booth—Drake and Seth, who slipped in across from me, ordered bottles of a local craft beer. When Bonnie walked away, they leaned over the table with matching smirks on their faces. “That woman wants you, bro,” Seth said with a chuckle. My brows shot up. “She’s twice my age, at least!” I objected. Drake shook his head. “I don’t think she got the memo. Given a chance, she’d probably ride you into a coma.” “Now, there’s an image I won’t be able to get rid of, thanks, asshole,” I said, glaring at Drake and scooting all the way over in the booth to keep myself just out of Bonnie’s reach. “Don’t mention it,” Drake said with a huge s**t-eating grin. As if the visual Drake had given me wasn’t enough, when Bonnie delivered our drink order, she bent over a little too far while passing me my sweet tea, giving me a clear view down the front of her shirt. I deliberately pretended that I hadn’t noticed and focused on taking a healthy sip from my glass while d**k one and d**k two hid their uncontrollable laughter behind their hands. Seriously annoyed, I sat up to give the fools a piece of my mind, then I was hit in the face by the smell of freshly picked peaches warmed by the early summer sun. In my head, Aiden howled. At last, our mate! I scanned the restaurant, but I didn’t see anyone other than Bonnie and another waitress, disappearing into the kitchen, a pregnant brunette, that I’d seen on numerous occasions. “Um, Adam? What’s up?” Drake asked as I scooted closer to the edge of the booth. “Mate.” That one word was enough to explain why my whole body was on alert, and my attention was focused on any new face that entered the restaurant dining room. Seth reached across the table and lay his hand on my shoulder. “Be cool, man. We’re the only supernaturals in this restaurant. If you move on instinct, you might scare her.” My eyes swung toward the kitchen door behind the bar as it opened. The bubbly brunette reappeared, laughing back over her shoulder with two heavily loaded plates in her hands. I caught a glimpse of purple in the small porthole-style window and nearly growled in frustration when that flash of color disappeared rather than coming through the door. “Relax, Adam. The humans are starting to stare,” I heard Drake whisper and sucked in a deep breath to calm myself. It was hard to relax, to be patient. I had been looking for my mate for almost two years and had nearly convinced myself that I didn’t have a destined mate, that the Moon Goddess had decided I didn’t deserve one. Who could blame her? I’d spent ten years of my life chasing women solely for the purpose of s*x, and nothing more, swearing that having a destined mate was an outdated concept and one in which I’d wanted no part. Oh, how wrong I had been. Eventually, my man-w***e lifestyle became stale. I began to loathe waking up in a bed that wasn’t my own with a woman whose name I struggled to remember, and I began to reconsider my anti-mate attitude. When my friends found their mates, and I saw how happy and fulfilled they were, I began to want that connection for myself. Screw the footloose and fancy-free lifestyle. I wanted love, commitment, and security. All of that waited for me behind the stone-gray kitchen door that had me transfixed. If only she would come out, so I could meet her, and we could start the journey toward forever. If only… That same flash of purple appeared in the porthole, then the door opened a crack. I heard her laugh, and my heart skipped a beat. Come on… The door opened a couple of inches more, a black crate filled with glasses peeked through the opening. Again, she laughed. The sound was louder this time, and I held my breath. The wait was killing me… Finally, she pushed through that swinging door and brought my whole world to a screeching halt.