The Gamma’s Second Chance (Crescent Lake #3)

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

CASSANDRA

One week. I’ve been at Crescent Lake for almost one week.

But it feels like more. And each day is harder to get through. The friendlier I am towards Nolan, the more he pushes me away. And the more he pushes me away, the friendlier I become. It’s a vicious cycle, a back-and-forth we seem to have found ourselves caught in, one that irks me to no end, but I face it all with a smile.

It’s Saturday afternoon now, and we’re in Crescent Lake for the rest of the day after escorting Haven to the optional Saturday morning class she never misses, and I’m convinced Nolan is actively avoiding being in my presence. He’s out on a run, his second one of the day. The first two days, he only ran in the morning. But the last three days, he’s gone on a run first thing in the morning and then as soon as we arrive back at the pack. So now the only time we spend together is the car ride to and from the city with Haven and the ten minutes he sits at the table to inhale his dinner.

At least he sits at the table now.

It’s quiet when he’s gone, but somehow it’s less quiet than when he’s here. When he’s here, it’s eerie, tense, and unnatural. When he’s gone, I can breathe. I can relax.

I open the window in my bedroom to let in the fresh mountain air and the scents of the forest and the lake as I finally work on unpacking my clothes. It’s seeming less and less likely that I’ll be offered a guest room in the packhouse at this point. And, as much as I hate to admit it, it is more convenient to stay with Nolan since we’re working together. I only wish I could get through to him. I wish I could see more glimpses of him. His personality. What he hides under that grumpy, surly exterior.

I saw a sliver of it the other night when he teased me about my romance novel, and then a few days later when he handed me a new copy of the book, a sheepish look on his face as he apologized for writing in it. But since then, he’s been back to his closed-off, silent, brooding self.

Which I find… intriguing. Sexy. He thinks his indifference will push me away, keep me out. But all it does is draw me in. Like a spider weaving a web to catch the unsuspecting insect flying past. Only, he’s trying to keep me out, and I’m anything but unsuspecting.

As I empty my luggage and organize my belongings in the guest room, my mind wanders. It wanders all the way back to almost five years ago. To their visit to the island. And Nolan in those white linen pants.

Much as he does now, he paid little attention to me then. Which made it easier to pay attention to him since he didn’t realize I was checking him out. The starlight of the new moon night reflected off his bronze skin. His muscles rippled, his body tense as he paced and waited for his alpha and luna to return from the temple. His brow furrowed with his concern for them, sharpening the lines of his handsome face and highlighting the unique hazel of his eyes.

And now I see those muscles at least twice a day when he heads out and returns from his runs dressed only in gym shorts that sit low on his hips, exactly like those linen pants did. His muscles are just as chiseled now as they were then—maybe even more so—and his washboard abs and the V cut disappearing into his shorts taunt my eyes every time I see him shirtless. My fingers itch to trace over them and further down to where those delicious lines are no longer visible.

Goddess, I want to know how they feel. I want to caress every glorious inch of him with my hands and follow each caress with a kiss from my lips or the swipe of my tongue. I want to travel down his body, touching, kissing, and licking until I’m kneeling in front of him. My palms would rest on his thighs, and I’d tug on his waistband with my teeth until his cock bounced free. His head would roll back, and his throat would bob, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as I swirled my tongue around the tip of his penis before taking all of him into my mouth and—

The front door slams open. “Nolan?!” A female’s voice rings out through the house, and my heart leaps into my chest. “Nolie, are you home?”

Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This must be her. The female the ring is for. The one I’ve thought about countless times but have been too afraid to bring up again. My hands shake and sweat, and I wipe them on my plaid dress after I shut the still-open dresser drawer I leaned against while caught up in my daydream. With heated cheeks, I exit the bedroom, steeling myself to meet Nolan’s woman after I was just fantasizing about him.

I follow the sounds of her footsteps to the kitchen, where she stands on the other side of the counter, unloading bags of groceries, unaware of my presence. Her dark brown hair is straight and sleek with a slight reddish tint to it, with a sharp, straight nose and flawless ivory skin, and she somehow makes unpacking groceries look elegant.

A feat I could only dream of accomplishing.

“Nolie, I know you’re not in town any—Oh!” She starts as her gaze lands on me in the archway of the dining room, and I give her an awkward wave and a self-conscious smile.

“Hello.” I take a tentative step towards the kitchen. “I’m guessing Nolan didn’t mention he had a houseguest?”

She scoffs. “Of course he didn’t. That boy would forget I existed if I didn’t bring him his groceries once a week.” Her head shakes as she sighs and continues removing the groceries from the reusable fabric bags. “The things us mothers do for our sons that go unthanked…”

I blink at her. “Mother?”

“Oh Goddess, I am sorry,” she says, skirting around the counter, hand held out to me and a smile on her face. “I’m Fiona Shepard. Nolan’s mom.” Her eyes crinkle around the edges as she smiles at me, and up close, I can make out the hint of the fine lines on her face near her mouth and between her brows. And I can see that her eyes are the same shade of hazel as Nolan’s.

Her son .

Our hands clasp, and a wave of relieved surprise floods through me, my body relaxing. “I’m Cassandra. I came to Crescent Lake to help Luna Haven, and since guest rooms are limited and I’m kind of Nolan’s work partner for the time being, Alpha Wesley asked Nolan to let me stay here.”

I gloss over the truth of the situation. There’s no need to share with her how Nolan didn’t have much say in the matter, that he didn’t want me to stay here at all, that Wesley all but commanded him to host me in his home. There’s no reason to tell her he’s been less than welcoming. We’re not preschoolers, and I’m not a little girl whose pigtails he pulled.

She nods and her lips press together, and I know she can see right through my lies. Like all moms can. I don’t know if they go through some kind of special training or if it’s a skill given to them upon reaching motherhood, but I’ve yet to meet a mother who can’t tell a truth from a lie.

“Nolan went for a run,” I say before she can say anything or call me out on my untruth. “I’m not sure when he’ll be back. His runs have been getting longer, so…”

“That’s fine. I don’t need to see him, even though it’s been a while since he’s paid his father and me a visit. But don’t worry, I will be out of your hair in no time, and it will be as though I was never here. The groceries will be the only evidence I leave behind.”

I grin at her as she meanders back over to the groceries and continues her sorting of them, following her into the kitchen and grabbing a bag as well. “I can help.”

“No, you’re a guest,” she says, yanking the bag away from me.

“It’s really not a problem,” I chuckle, reaching for it again. “It’s the least I can do since—”

She pushes it across the counter and out of my reach. “Sweetheart. Just let me take care of you and my son.”

Her tone and her pointed stare leave no room for me to argue. Even though it goes against all my instincts and the etiquette ingrained into me by my parents, I step aside and let her work instead of insisting on helping and going against her wishes.

“I will say”—she heads into the pantry, her arms full of dry goods—“your presence does explain why Nolan needed more groceries than usual this week. I can’t tell you how surprised I was at how quickly he’d gone through everything. Especially those,” she adds as she reenters the kitchen and she spies me reaching for a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. “I mean, I know those are his favorites, but he usually still has at least a handful left by the time I come by on Saturday mornings to check his stock and his list. But this week? None.”

“I hope you bought extra,” I say with a laugh as I hop onto the counter and perch on the edge, my legs crossed at the ankles.

“I did! I bought another bag!” She tugs it out of the last remaining grocery bag and tosses it to me with a laugh. I catch it and set it next to me, then open the first bag, digging into the salty, tangy goodness of the potato chips. “You’re probably wondering why Nolan has his mother buy his groceries,” she says as she continues her sorting and organizing of the food and Nolan’s pantry and fridge.

“It is a little odd, yes,” I say as I continue to munch on the chips.

“One of the… side effects, I guess you could call them… of being a gamma is that their job as gamma almost always comes first. My mate was lucky enough that he met me before Emily became Alpha Harrison’s luna. Otherwise, Felix would have likely starved or survived on whatever leftovers he could scrounge up in the packhouse kitchens. But Nolan…” She trails off and bites her lip, like she’s afraid she’s said too much.

“It’s just him,” I finish for her as she glances at me from the fridge.

She nods once. “Exactly. And he’s even more dedicated to Haven than Felix was to Emily.”

“It makes sense.” I shrug. “She’s not just the luna of Crescent Lake but also Selene’s daughter. To be the werewolf responsible for protecting her… it’s an important job and also a heavy burden to shoulder. And he does it well.”

Her smile turns soft and reminiscent. “She was almost his sister. Felix and I tried to adopt her. I still think of her as mine, even though she never was. I think Nolan feels the same—like she’s his little sister. Unofficially.”

I chuckle as I think back on their interactions this week, on the subtle teasing and prodding of each other, and the back-and-forth banter they so easily fall into when they’re together. “I can definitely see that. They’re very close.”

I sense him before I hear him or see him. The tension surrounding him is tangible, and it disturbs the peace of the house and the comfortable familiarity building between Fiona and me. Much as he has the majority of this week, he slams the front door open and shut and stomps through the house towards the kitchen to get his glass of water. The hair on the back of my neck stands, and my lycan stirs in my mind, lifting her head to observe him as he lingers in the arched entry.

Our eyes meet, and I’m once again pinned in place by his stare, by those magnetic hazel eyes of his. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. His gaze is heavy, his expression unreadable, and I hate that I can’t figure him out, that I can’t discern what his motives are or what he’s feeling when he looks at me that way.

So I do what I always do. I smile at him and give him a small wave, then return to my snack, swinging my legs as I do.

“Hey, Nolie!” Fiona says, folding up the fabric bags. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be back before I left.”

The weighted heat of his eyes leaves me, and I’m both relieved and disappointed. I feel their absence acutely, and I’m not sure what to make of that. Even though his intentions are indiscernible, and it’s clear he finds my presence irksome, that pinning, assessing stare of his is almost comforting.

Nolan saunters through the room to his mom, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. His gaze returns to me immediately, boring into and through me with the same intensity as before. It’s a searing brand on my skin, but somehow it’s also a reassuring caress, a protective, familiar gesture that settles both my lycan and me.

“You didn’t tell me you had a guest,” Fiona continues, squeezing him and then grabbing her grocery bags.

“Sorry,” Nolan says, his eyes still locked on me. “I’ve been a little… off-kilter lately.”

“Oh, you know I’m not upset,” she says, shrugging off his apology. “I’ll get out of your hair. I need to get home. Your dad and I have a date night tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows and winks at me, a girlish giggle falling from her lips as I smile at her, and Nolan sighs in exasperation.

“I did not need that information, Mom.”

“If you think of anything you need, anything at all, you just let me know. Or write it down on the list so I see it next week,” Fiona says to me, ignoring Nolan. “Bye!”

With that, she exits the kitchen and the house with a bounce in her step, leaving Nolan and me in our usual state of impassive silence.

A silence I am coming to despise. We can’t continue like this. I will wither away into dust. And even though he’ll likely rebuke my attempt at friendliness, I make an effort anyway.

“So. Nolie . Your mom buys you your groceries.”

He crosses his arms, and I tense under his stare, waiting. Will he pounce? Will he snap? Or will he bury it all, turn around and leave?

He does none of those. Instead, he stalks closer. Slow and steady, he moves across the floor, my lycan tracking each sure step he takes until he’s right in front of me, a whisper away from my knees. His torso shimmers in the soft, late afternoon sunlight, his muscles glistening with a hint of dewy sweat from his run, and I once again have the inappropriate urge to run my tongue over the ridges of his abdomen and the V that disappears down beneath the waistband of his gym shorts.

I swallow and clench my thighs tighter, praying to Selene that it will hide the hint of my arousal threatening to leak from me. He reaches out and plucks the bag of chips out of my hand, peering inside it.

“These are mine,” he says, taking one out and popping it into his mouth.

“Funny.” I cock my head to the side and lean forward, examining the bag in his hand. “I don’t see your name on it.”

He pauses his chewing and blinks, and I snatch the bag back and continue my munching, a triumphant smile on my lips. But he smirks as he finishes his chip, then moves closer to me, forcing my knees apart. His hips line up with mine, resting against the counter and the cabinets, and I inhale through my nose. The tips of his fingers press into the granite countertop, and he leans forward, his chest almost bumping against mine and his nose brushing my ear. Infinite goose bumps ripple outward along my skin from that microscopic point of contact, and I’m frozen in place, neck arched subtly and body practically trembling from the unexpected nearness of him, and his warm, spicy scent of cardamom wafting into my nose.

But he’s gone again before I can react further, before I can form thoughts or frame a sentence. In his hands are the second bag of chips and the permanent marker he used on my book the other night, and he’s scribbling across the front of the bag in long, hurried strokes.

I catch my breath while his focus isn’t on me, resisting the urge to fan myself or release the frustrated growl pent up in my chest. I’m not sure if he’s realized I’m attracted to him and was using it against me or if it was just a coincidence, just in my head. But either way, I will not reveal to him how flustered he’s made me. I won’t let him have that win to hold over me. Not when we have to live together for Goddess only knows how long.

“There.” He shoves the cap back on the marker and turns the bag so I can see the front. “Now my name is on it.”

It takes me far longer than I should admit to process his words and understand what he means and what I’m looking at. But then my eyes and brain register that he’s written “NOLAN” across the front in all caps, staking a claim on the extra bag of chips his mom bought during her grocery run.

His smile matches my triumphant one from moments before, and he turns around, prancing into the pantry to shelve the now labeled bag.

And I can’t help but smile bigger. He wants to label things? Fine. Two can play that game. Whatever it takes to get him to acknowledge me, to give me that brief glimpse of the real Nolan I caught when he leaned in close to me and when he thought he gained the upper hand.

He may have won this round, but the war has only just begun.