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

Chapter 5 - Two For One

Adam POV

I felt the sting of impact all the way up my arm when my fist collided with the hard vinyl surface of the heavy bag. It had been almost two days since I’d given Megan my number, and I had yet to hear from her. Not that I was all that surprised. I knew the first time I’d spoken to her that I had a long road fraught with obstacles ahead of me. The biggest obstacle being her mother. Our lunch on Sunday had served as confirmation. Just thinking of what Bonnie had allegedly done to Megan growing up filled me with rage. Whether she wanted children or not, she’d made the choice to carry that child and to give birth to that child. She had no right to punish Megan for her own choices. Once I claimed Megan as my mate Bonnie would be put on notice. The harassment would stop or else. I slammed my fist into the heavy bag with enough force to send it rocking hard, causing me to step to the side out of its path.

“Who pissed you off?” A feminine voice asked from the direction of the gym door.

I glanced up as I pulled on my gloves’ laces and met Sinead’s curious gaze. “Nobody. Just thinking about all that crap Lucy told me about Megan’s mom.” I lowered myself to the bench where my duffel bag sat.

Sinead came over and straddled the weight bench in front of me. She was dressed to work out in a skin-tight pair of lavender bike shorts and a matching bralette, which lifted her modest breasts, giving her just enough cleavage to draw attention. I shifted uncomfortably as my body responded to the sight and the memory of her straddling me in that same manner. Goddess, I couldn’t wait to make love to and mark my mate. Sinead drew her knee up to her chest and into a less suggestive position as if she could read my mind.

“Well, I can certainly understand why that would anger you. Quite a piece of work, isn’t she?” she asked.

“Yeah, she’s a piece of work, alright,” I agreed, pushing my gloves into my duffel bag with more force than necessary. “Never in my life have I wanted to see a woman suffer as much as I do, Bonnie.”

“Why don’t you make her?”

My wide, stunned eyes swung to hers. “I won’t put hands on a woman unless it’s in combat,” I told her, thoroughly insulted.

A mischievous light shined in those sky-blue eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Adam. That would make her a victim, and I have a feeling she’s the type that would milk it for all it’s worth. What I meant is do something that will indirectly make her suffer. Something that will drive her absolutely crazy while also helping you to win Megan’s favor.”

“Color me intrigued,” I said, then leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

Sinead folded her legs in front of her and grinned. “Well, based upon what I’ve heard about her, it appears that Bonnie has an overinflated ego. She thrives on attention from men and wouldn’t react well to someone else receiving it instead of her. If you were to anonymously shower Megan with attention, Bonnie might lose her mind over it especially since she seems to take great pleasure in humiliating Megan over her weight. To add insult to injury, you could also tell Bonnie flat-out that you are not interested.”

***

A secret admirer. Sinead was brilliant! Before I left Winter Valley, I called Nebula—grateful when Carla answered the phone—to check if Megan was working. Then I called a local florist in Raven’s Crest and custom-ordered an arrangement of one dozen deep purple roses in a heavy crystal vase to be delivered to Nebula while I was there for lunch.

This was going to be extremely satisfying, I thought to myself as I pulled open the door to the restaurant. Megan was taking an order at a table near the back of the dining room, her eyes lifted at the sound of the door closing, then shifted quickly away.

“Adam!” I cringed at the sound of Bonnie’s voice. “I was starting to worry about you. You’re later than usual,” she said as she reached for my arm.

As casually as I could, I shifted it away, reaching for my phone as a diversion. Bonnie’s smile faltered for a moment, then returned even more prominent than before as she led me to a table near the door. I smirked, pretending that I was amused by something on my phone, then slid into the booth. The table she had selected put the door, and the hostess stand directly in my line of sight. I would have a front-row seat for both women’s reactions when the flowers arrived.

I set my phone face down on the table next to me and accepted the menu that Bonnie offered. “Your usual sweet tea to drink?” she asked, leaning a hip against the table.

“No, I think I’m going to have coffee today and a glass of water,” I answered almost automatically. “I’d also like to go ahead and order the grilled salmon with roasted asparagus, baby potatoes, and a side of the yeast rolls.” Bonnie stared blankly at me as I rapidly rattled off my order, something I’d never done. I’d always mixed it with casual, friendly conversation. I no longer felt friendly toward Bonnie, and the sooner she accepted that I was not interested in dating her, the sooner I could openly pursue my mate. “Is something wrong?” I asked when she continued to gawk at me.

“Um… No, of course not. You just seem different today,” she said, jotting my order down on the pad.

Tilting my head slightly, I asked, “How so?”

She stuck the pad and pen in her pocket, then hooked her thumbs in her aprons’ waistband. “Well, you're usually very talkative when you come in. We would have a conversation all through the ordering process. Today, you seem quite rushed and professional.”

Nodding, I handed her back my menu. “You are absolutely right, Bonnie. My demeanor is different, and for good reason. You see, it was brought to my attention by my friends that I am overly friendly, and that has likely led to a misunderstanding between us.”

“Misunderstanding?” she parroted back, absently lifting a hand and combing her fingers through her hair.

“Yes, a misunderstanding. It has been pointed out to me that because of my overly friendly and flirtatious nature that you may have gotten the impression that I am interested in seeing you outside of the restaurant.” I had the pleasure of watching her chin hit the floor. “While I am flattered that you would be inclined to say yes if that were the case, I have to be honest and tell you that it’s not.”

She stood there staring at me, frozen in place, dumbfounded. Her expression suggested that she’d never been rejected before—I doubted that was true. After a couple of very long minutes, Bonnie turned and stormed away without a word. I sat perfectly sedately and lost myself in a game on my phone while mentally celebrating the blow I’d dealt to her overblown ego. It was time that vile b***h got a taste of her own medicine.

Megan POV

Bonnie was spitting mad when she came slamming into the kitchen. Her face was red with the fury she was barely containing. I shrank back into the corner where I was trying, once again, to fix the dishwasher and watched her whipping around the kitchen like a cat chasing a laser pointer. She shouted an order at Tommy, set out a tray, and began to load it with silverware and the customary selection of condiments. When Tommy set the food on the tray, she stormed out again, and I ran to the door to peek out the porthole at whoever it was that had pissed her off so severely. My eyes sprung wide when I saw that the source of her displeasure was Adam.

As she unloaded the tray, I could tell without hearing the snap of ceramic on wood that she was not gentle by her quick, jerky movements. When she’d finished, she said something to him, and he responded by absently pointing her in the direction of the door. After one last look at him, she turned and walked away in a huff. Shaking my head, I returned to the dishwasher. I had just picked up my screwdriver when Carla came skidding through the door.

“Um… Meg, you better get out here,” she said, then hurried out again.

Tommy, an aging man with shaggy gray hair and watery light blue eyes, looked over at me. We both shrugged before I headed out to face whatever awaited me. I expected Bonnie to be in a full-on meltdown. I’d anticipated some broken dishes, maybe an argument between her and a customer. I did not expect her to be standing in front of a delivery driver red-faced, insisting that he made a mistake, that he had gotten the name wrong or something.

I approached the scene cautiously and met the horrified eyes of the delivery driver. “Hi, how can I help you,” I asked the harried-looking man.

“I have a delivery for a Miss. Megan Clay,” he said, and instantly my mouth dropped open.

“Excuse me?” I asked hesitantly.

He checked his clipboard, then looked back at me. “Are you Megan Clay?”

I nodded dumbly.

“Then these are for you,” he said with a smile and pushed a thick crystal vase into my hands with a dozen deep purple roses nestled between riotous sprigs of baby’s breath and decorated with a wide, silver, satin ribbon. He held out his clipboard for me to sign, then hurried from the restaurant with my furious mother glaring after him.

I stared at the flowers in my hands, then glanced across the restaurant, making eye contact with a smug-looking Adam Keller.

“I want that man’s name. He messed up. There is no way anyone would send your fat ass flowers,” Bonnie snapped, snatching the card. She opened it and read it. “See! I told you it was a mistake! There is no way you would have caught the eye of a secret admirer.” She reached out to take the vase, and I stepped back. “They were meant for me. They just got the names mixed up.”

She tried again to take the vase, and I evaded. “I’ll tell you what, you call the florist and find out who they were really meant for, and in the meantime, they can stay upstairs in my apartment. If they are yours, I’ll return them… Oh, and I want proof that they were intended for you.”

If I hadn’t added that last line, she would have claimed that they told her the flowers were for her, then expected me to take her at her word. That wasn’t going to happen. I knew the minute I saw Adam’s expression that the flowers were from him. I also knew that he didn’t order them for my mother. After all, it wasn’t her number he’d asked for. It wasn’t her phone he’d put his number in, and it certainly wasn’t her that he deposited on the bar to ask for a chance to prove himself.

With her spitting and sputtering behind me, I made my way through the restaurant and out the back door. I tucked the heavy vase into the crook of my arm and climbed the stairs to my tiny apartment. Bonnie didn’t follow any farther than the back door, which relieved me. The apartment was my sanctuary. It was my safe space, and I hated the feeling left behind whenever she chose to visit, which thankfully was rare.

After unlocking the door, I shifted the vase to my other arm and pushed the door open. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. I’d refurbished the unused attic space to give myself the freedom I’d been craving since my father died. I’d paid for the rehabbing out of my own pocket, doing the work myself at night after the restaurant was closed. Bonnie had been none the wiser. In fact, I’d managed to keep it a secret until after I’d moved out of her house. When the final piece of furniture was safely tucked away inside the tiny space, I’d waited for Bonnie to come home to break the news.

~Flashback~

I took up my place in the center of the living room when I heard Bonnie’s car pull into the driveway. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t keep the tremors at bay. She was going to be furious. Would she hit me? I wouldn’t know until I told her. The shaking worsened, and I dragged huge gulps of air into my lungs while I waited to face my mother.

She came in looking as annoyed as she usually did. That was a good sign. That meant her reaction wouldn’t be exacerbated by additional issues. Her eyes fell briefly on me as she hung her purse on a hook on the coat tree.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked.

I drew in a deep breath. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not cooking dinner tonight.”

Bonnie slowly pivoted toward me. “Excuse me? As long as you live under my roof, you’ll do as you’re told. Dinner is one of your chores, so I suggest you get on it.”

“I don’t live under your roof anymore, Mom. I’ve moved out. I just stayed to let you know,” I’d said and strode out the door.

She’d been so angry that she followed me halfway down the block, ranting, and raving before realizing that she’d left the house vulnerable to thieves. She continued to scream as she hurried back to the place that had been my prison for two years, and I continued to the home I’d built, taking that first step on the path toward total independence. Now, I just needed to make it to 25 to complete my journey.

~

I grinned as I remembered the look on my mother’s face that day. It had been my proudest moment. Wiggling my butt at the triumphant memory, I nudged the door closed behind me and looked around at what she could not take from me. Sitting the vase in the center of the footlocker I’d converted into a coffee table, I turned a quick giddy circle, then headed back downstairs to thank Adam for the roses.