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I slapped a hand on my brow. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I could loiter in the produce section and examine the peaches while thinking about my mate’s ass. Stroking the eggplant while imagining him giving me a hand job was a possibility.
“Jonah, you’re a genius.”
“I know.” He blew on his fingertips and buffed his nails on his shirt.
I kissed him on both cheeks and told him to enjoy his duck before taking off. Snowford had one large grocery store, but there were many others in Oakheart I’d visit if I had no luck in ours.
My mate was out there, and I was going to find him.
Let’s hope he wants to be found.
He does. Wait, what if he had scented me and he was running away?
Chapter 7
Brett
The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, casting a warm golden light across my backyard. I’d been up since dawn, my hands already smudged with dirt and streaked with paint. One frustrating thing about my job was the way my body needed to adjust to different sleep schedules. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
The flower boxes out back needed a fresh coat of paint. They were chipped and faded from neglect, sun, and wind, but they had potential. I’d had fun picking out the colors at the hardware store; the current color trends were exactly in tune with this place. At least something was going right.
I dipped my brush into the can of pink paint and started on the first box. I’d originally planned to sand it—make it perfect. But then I realized, this place didn’t embrace perfect, it embraced natural, and the unevenness was only going to make it that much more beautiful. Instead, I washed them yesterday, letting them dry in the sun.
I was hardly a painter, but I kept my movements steady and methodical, and so far, it was working well. This was the kind of work that didn’t require much thought, allowing my mind to wander, which probably made it a bad choice for my day off, but so be it. At least when I was out here, nature surrounded me, giving me a sense of belonging. That was something.
My hand cramped, and I took a moment to take a break. I glanced over at the raised garden bed a few feet away. It was in worse shape than I’d thought when I first moved in. The previous occupant hadn’t taken care of it at all—overgrown weeds choked the few struggling plants that remained, and the soil looked depleted and in need of fertilizer and possibly some peat. It would take some serious effort to get it back into decent shape, but I was up for the challenge. There was something rewarding about bringing a plot of earth back to vitality.
As I painted, a small movement caught my eye in the weeds. A chipmunk darted around near the garden bed, its tiny paws moving quickly as it searched for food. It wasn’t scared of me. They never were, not even in my human form. If anything, the cuties were drawn to me.
I couldn’t help but smile at the little creature. It had been hanging around a lot lately, as if it were curious about what I was doing and wanting to make friends. I was up for making friends. Goodness knew I could use one.
“Hey there, little guy,” I said softly. “You here to supervise and make sure I get the job done right?”
The chipmunk twitched its nose and looked at me, as if considering my words. For half a second I thought he might come over, but he stayed where he was, watching me intently. I chuckled and went back to painting. It was nice having a companion—even if it was just a tiny one who never took human form.
“I bet you don’t have to worry about finding a mate, do you? You just go out there, do your little chipmunk thing, and before you know it, you’ve got a whole family.”
That probably wasn’t true. It wasn’t going to be the same as it was for shifters, but in their own way, they’d have one. At least I thought they did. Not all of nature was that way, and yes, I was side-eyeing the praying mantises of the world.
I dipped the brush back into the paint and continued my work. “Me, though? I’ve been searching, waiting, and I keep missing him by hours, sometimes minutes. It’s frustrating, you know?”
The chipmunk came a little closer, as if he was listening intently. I liked to think he was, anyway.
“I’ve got this vision, you know?” I continued. “We’ll finally meet, and everything will just fall into place, and in thirty years we’ll laugh about all of this.” Not that I could see any humor in it now. “I keep telling myself to be patient, but it’s hard when I feel like I’m so close. I mean, I can almost scent him sometimes, but then… nothing. Just a trace left behind.”
This poor little chipmunk needed to charge me for his time at the rate I was going.
I sighed, leaning back on my heels to admire my work. The first flower box was done, looking much better with its fresh coat of paint. Once it was dry, I’d know for sure if I needed to go back and touch it up, but it didn’t need to be perfect. I cleaned my brush, and instead of starting on the next box, I went over to the garden bed.
“Guess it’s time to tackle this mess, huh?” I said, glancing at the chipmunk who was still there. “What do you think? You gonna stick around and keep me company?”
The chipmunk scampered up onto a rock nearby, watching as I knelt down and began pulling at the stubborn weeds. This wasn’t a season of neglect, it was years. The soil was dry and hard, clinging to the roots like it didn’t want to let go. It didn’t help that the roots were so intertwined.
It was slow work, but I didn’t mind. There was something satisfying about getting my hands dirty, about helping something near death come back to life.
As I worked, I kept talking, my voice low and steady, more for myself than anything. “I just want what my parents had, you know? They found each other, and that was it. They were together through everything. I want that too.” It hadn’t always been easy for them, especially after they took me in, but they loved each other completely and that was everything.
The chipmunk tilted its head, its small eyes bright with curiosity.
