The Alpha’s Pen Pal (Crescent Lake Book 1)
The Alpha’s Pen Pal: Chapter 20

WESLEY

After exchanging phone numbers with Shirley and Jack and getting her bag from Seb’s old beat-up truck and many, many, many hugs, Haven and I settled ourselves into my big black truck and headed back into town towards Brewed Awakenings.

Neither of us said anything as I drove to the cafe. I think she was still in shock from the whole thing. I was just happy that I seemed to be forgiven and too afraid to say something to put me back in the wolf house.

I gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to keep my focus on the road instead of letting it wander over to her. My lycan kept trying to get me to look at her, and her jasmine scent filled up the cab fast, making him roll around on his back in my mind.

She seemed much more relaxed than the day I showed up at her apartment. Her hands rested in her lap, and she stared out the window as we drove through town.

There was so much I wanted to ask her, so much I wanted to know, but I wasn’t sure where to start, and I didn’t want to overwhelm her. Especially not after she had just seen Jack and Shirley. So, I was going to let her take the lead on the conversation. For now, anyway.

“Where do you work?” she asked me as I turned down the street that led into town.

“What?” I asked.

She gestured towards my dress pants, shirt, and loafers. “You clearly came to Jack and Shirley’s from work. I am just curious about what you did. Do.”

I glanced down at my clothing for a moment. I had forgotten that I was still dressed for the office.

“I work with my dad, running our various businesses,” I told her. “Lots of paperwork. We rotate locations throughout the week to make sure each business gets the same amount of attention from us.”

“What businesses?”

“We own a lot of the hotels near the national park entrance, as well as various camping supply stores and things of that nature. Some restaurants and bars. The club.”

She nodded and looked back out the window.

“I’d ask you where you work, but I think that’s been established,” I teased, and she chuckled.

“Where did you go to school?” she asked.

“Stanford,” I replied, and she rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head.

“What’s wrong with Stanford?” She shook her head again, pressing her lips closed. “Well, where’d you go?”

“Ballerinas don’t go to college,” she told me. “Or at least they don’t usually. I went straight into an apprenticeship at seventeen after I graduated a year early from high school. I joined the corps de ballet a year later. Then Peter offered me a soloist position here earlier this year after he saw me in the company’s self-directed showcase.”

“Can we pretend I have no idea what any of that means so you can explain it all again in English?”

She let out a genuine laugh at that. Her head leaned back against the seat, and I smiled. Progress. That was progress. I would take any small moment I could and keep them to myself like the selfish ass I was when it came to her.

“Apprentice would be like an intern,” she told me. “The corps is the group of dancers that dance together all the time. They’d be like… um… what sport do you like?”

“Football?” I suggested.

She nodded. “Ok, so, the principals are like the quarterback. The soloists would be the wide receiver or running back. The corps would be the offensive and defensive lines.”

I stared at her as I paused at a stoplight. “Did you just—“

“The game would suck if the corps was shit, or the soloists weren’t good at their jobs, but the principal is the one most likely to be named MVP.”

I blinked and drove through the stoplight, impressed and, honestly, slightly turned on that she knew so much about football. I readjusted my position on the seat, trying to hide the semi I was sporting from the combination of her scent and her sports knowledge.

“What about the self-directed showcase thing?” I asked, trying to move forward and distract myself from the dirty thoughts forming in my mind.

“Oh, that’s just something the principals started doing a few years back. We get to perform pieces we wouldn’t normally do or self-choreograph some dances or whatever we want, really. The company director gives us one night in the theater to perform. Sometimes directors from other companies will come and watch, and that’s how Peter found me.”

I parked the car and nodded. Goddess bless Peter for bringing Haven here. I’d have to remember to thank him the next time I saw him.

“Don’t get out!” I exclaimed as I saw her reaching for the door handle.

She frowned at me and kept her hand on it, pulling it towards herself to pop it open.

“Haven,” I warned.

“But—“

“Damn it, would you just let me be a gentleman and open it for you?” I said, holding back a growl, my eyes flashing with a gentle warning.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Then she gave me a mischievous little wink and a smile, pushed the door open with surprising speed and strength, and hopped out onto the curb.

I growled for real after that. She had no clue what she just incited, no idea about the beast she just invited out to play. I chuckled darkly, my lycan mimicking me in my head, and then jumped out of the truck after her, slamming the door and rounding the hood in long strides to replace her already almost at the door of the coffee shop.

I sped up my steps and grabbed the handle at the same time she did, pushing against the door so she couldn’t pull it open. Her back pressed against my front as she tried and failed to strong-arm it open, and I didn’t even try to take a step back to give her space. I was too focused on the feel of her body against mine. And distracted by my lycan fucking purring again.

She turned her face and glared up at me, her blue eyes sparkling with a hint of fire and defiance.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Twinkle Toes,” I teased, bringing my hand to her hip to brace our bodies as I pulled the door open. “After you,” I muttered with a smirk.

She stepped away from my body and into the crowded cafe, stopping in her tracks as she looked around at all the people sitting and standing at the tables. The line went almost to the door, so I squeezed in between her body and the table nearby, keeping close to her without touching her.

Almost half of the shop had their eyes glued to us as we stood in line and worked our way to the register. Most of them were wolves from my pack, but a handful were from one of the two neighboring packs that also bordered the national park.

I could sense she was uncomfortable with the crowd, but I didn’t know what was appropriate to do to put her at ease. If she was a wolf, I wouldn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her and hold her close to calm her with my touch.

But she was a human, so I did the next best thing I could think of, and let a bit of my alpha aura slip out, forcing the lower wolves to turn their eyes away from us. The wolves who weren’t part of my pack were still affected and went back to their business. Even some humans bristled and shifted in their chairs. Haven was the only one in the cafe who wasn’t affected at all.

I stepped up as close as possible without touching her, using my body like a shield and letting her sweet scent fill my lungs. I was still trying to place the fruit mixed with the jasmine in her scent. It was right there, at the edge of my mind, on the tip of my tongue…

The teenaged wolf working the register caught my eye, and I realized we were the next customers. I placed my hand on the small of Haven’s back as we stepped up to the counter, and she gave me a shy smile. I blinked at the contrast from the Haven who gave me sass as she ran out of my truck and to the cafe door. Had I imagined that whole thing?

“What did you want?” I asked, leaning down to speak to her.

“Oh, you go ahead. I’m still deciding,” she muttered, looking back at the menu and the case of baked goods and sandwiches.

I smiled at her and placed my usual afternoon coffee order—a cappuccino with extra foam and a hint of caramel. In the mornings, I was a black coffee guy, but any other time, I liked to have a foamy, slightly sweet cappuccino.

“Haven?” I asked, gesturing at the barista.

She glanced at me and the barista and then me again and laughed. “Oh, no, it’s ok. I can pay for my own order,” she said, waving me off.

Cue angry lycan in my head. Like hell, we were letting her pay for her own order. “Haven,” I said again, a bit more sternly.

“Seriously, Wes, I can buy my own cup of coffee. They do pay me at the ballet company, you know,” she replied, shaking her head.

I gritted my teeth to keep the growl from spilling out. She sure did like pushing my buttons.

“Remember what I said in the car? About letting me be a gentleman?” I reminded her.

She stared at me, then sighed and relented, stomping over to the barista at the register. I smirked and then had to press my lips together to prevent myself from muttering “good girl” to her as she stepped in front of me.

“I’ll have a medium vanilla oat milk latte with cinnamon sprinkled on the top. Extra hot, please,” she rushed out in one breath.

Her eyes flicked over to the case of food, and then she turned to look at me.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked her.

“No?”

“Food?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Funny,” I said, stepping closer to her and leaning my elbow on the counter as I bent to her level. “Because your stomach was growling almost the entire time we were in my truck.”

“It’s fine, Wes,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Order some food, or I will order it for you,” I threatened with a teasing smile.

I didn’t know her that well. Not like I used to, anyway, but I could already sense she wouldn’t like someone ordering food for her.

We locked eyes in a staring contest, both of us stubbornly holding our own and not backing down. When she blinked, I grinned in triumph. She furrowed her brow and turned to place the rest of her order, and I’m pretty sure I heard her mutter, “The audacity,” under her breath.

“I’ll take the grilled chicken pesto sandwich,” she spat out, then moved to the only table available—a standing one right near the hand-off bar.

I smiled at the barista and handed her my card, then joined Haven after I finished paying.

“You didn’t have to pay,” she muttered.

“Of course I did,” I grumbled back. “I invited you here. It’s only polite.”

“Technically, I invited you.”

“TECHNICALLY. I invited you first,” I pointed out. “And you stood me up.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the server set her sandwich down in front of her, so she closed her mouth and tried to smile at them. “Thank you,” she said.

“So you owe me,” I finished as the server walked away.

“Seriously, Wes?” I nodded. “Fine, but it’s not a date.”

“Says who?” I asked, moving around the table to stand closer to her.

She ignored me and took a bite of her sandwich, staring out the window to avoid my eyes.

“Who said this wasn’t a date, Haven?” I asked again, coming right up next to her, my chest brushing her arm with each inhale.

I pretended not to notice the little shiver that ran through her body or the goosebumps that appeared on her forearm just below her pushed-up sleeves.

“What if I want it to be a date?” I asked, leaning down towards her ear.

She turned to look at me. Her nose almost touched mine, and her pupils dilated as we made eye contact.

She moved forward until her lips were just across from mine, her tongue darting out to lick them, and my eyes tracked the movement, my cock twitching as it grew hard again.

“Then I would say it’s very presumptuous of you to assume I would even want to date you,” she cooed, then turned away from me and took a very large, very unladylike bite of her sandwich.

The scent of roasted garlic wafted towards me as she set the sandwich back on the plate, and I was grateful that at that exact moment, the barista called my name for our drinks. As adorable as she was chewing her sandwich the way a wolf would, and as much as I wanted to be as close to her as she’d allow, the garlic scent made my nose itch and my eyes water. Kissing her after this date was probably off the table.

Well, it was off the table, anyway. She wasn’t a wolf. She was human. They didn’t move as quickly as we did when they were in relationships. I needed to keep reminding myself of that. And my lycan.

I picked up our drinks and brought them back to the table, testing the weight of my cappuccino as I handed Haven her latte.

“Oh, good! They got the foam right this time!” I exclaimed, and she raised a brow at me. “Usually, they skimp on the foam,” I explained. “Lots of people don’t like foam, and I don’t understand why they order a cappuccino if they don’t like the foam. If you want more milk, just order a latte. The ratio of the espresso to milk to foam is what makes it a cappuccino.”

And I was rambling. A-fucking-gain. About foam, of all things. Fucking steamed milk. Haven smiled at me with her brows still raised as she sipped her latte. I probably sounded like a pompous windbag.

“How do you know so much about football?” I asked to change the subject and steer us away from my coffee proclivities.

“My adopted parents are BYU fans,” Haven answered as she set her cup down. “They had season tickets every year. I had to learn, or it would have bored me to death.”

She frowned a bit and looked at her cup, turning it side to side on the tabletop.

“What?” I asked, immediately concerned and on alert.

She shook her head at me and ate the last bite of her sandwich. I blinked and held in my “I told you so” to her. She must have been starving to have finished that whole sandwich that fast.

But I was more worried about what had made her so upset. She may have brushed it off, but I could see in her eyes she wasn’t okay. My lycan was on edge, too, ready to defend and protect what we had both decided was ours.

I moved closer to her again, only this time it was to hide her face from the rest of the cafe and offer her some comfort and safety instead of to push her buttons and tease her.

“You can talk to me, Haven,” I breathed. “You can trust me,” I added, covering her hand on the coffee cup with my own, stilling her anxious movements.

I don’t know if she did it intentionally, but she leaned into my touch at my words, her body moving into my space as if seeking solace.

“Not here,” she whispered. “There are too many people.”

“Would you like to go for a walk?” I asked her.

When she nodded, I grabbed both of our drinks and walked to the door, pushing and holding it open with my back for her to exit the shop. Once she was out the door, I handed her the cup and put my hand on her back to guide her towards the park.