Page 12 of Desire Him

CHAPTER FIVE

Inside her cabin, Val steps out of the hot shower. A cloud of steam hangs above her head, curling along the ceiling, and the scent of her soap – vanilla and honey – coats the bathroom’s atmosphere. She breathes it in.

She grabs the clean towel from a hook and dries herself off, thinking about everything she has to do once she’s dressed.

After she left the alpha’s house, she had planned to go to the marketplace to shop for tonight’s pack meal, but she quickly decided to head home and shower first. She was in desperate need of one, a hot one that would wash away last night’s events. She doesn’t even want to think about what happened last night. Every time she does, she gets a curdling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’s moved from sorrow to rage in a matter of hours.

From inside her bedroom, she can hear her phone ringing. She ignores it and towel-dries off. Whoever it is can wait. This is her time to herself.

She heads to her mirror and wipes the mist from its surface to peer at her reflection for a moment, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and her frost-bitten cheeks. Bending, she rummages through her vanity’s drawer and pulls out the blow dryer. She hums to herself while she dries her hair with one hand and brushes with the other. When that’s finished, she exits her bedroom in search of clothes. She continues humming as she selects a long-sleeve, light-grey shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans.

Her phone chirps, and, instead of getting dressed, she turns to the sound. Grinding her teeth for a moment, she heads to her dresser where she had placed it and picks it up, noticing a voicemail notification.

Setting her clothes down on the bed, she brings the phone up to her ear and listens to it.

“Hey,” Wayne says on her voicemail, “it’s me. Look, I - Are you coming to tonight’s meal? No, wait. Of course you are. Look, let’s talk, okay? I don’t like it when you’re mad at me. Whatever I did, let me fix it. Okay? Call me back.”

Great, Val thinks to herself. She sets her phone down on her blue comforter and rolls her eyes. She has no intention of calling him back.

At the dresser, she opens a drawer and selects her black bra and matching underwear. She quickly slips them on and dresses for the day. When she’s done, she dips into the bathroom once more. There, she sighs at her reflection.

“You look how you feel,” she says to herself. She takes out some foundation and begins applying it to her face. Just because she had a shitty night, well . . . more like a shitty morning and day . . . that doesn’t mean she can’t feel pretty.

When she’s done with the foundation, she brushes on some mascara and selects the red lipstick. Once it’s on, she pops her lips and glances one more time at herself. Satisfied with her appearance, she heads back into her room and slides on her black boots.

Picking up her phone from the bed, she goes into her living room, plucks up her coat, and slides it on. Valentine exits her cabin with her purse in one hand and her phone in the other. The brisk air bites at her cheeks, but she ignores it as she shuts the door. She walks down the road and waves at a few pack members as she makes her way down the path that will lead her to the marketplace.

Her phone chirps again when she’s almost there. She brings it up from her side and squints at the screen. Wayne.

Did you get my voice message? It reads.

Val slides the phone into her back pocket. In the marketplace, she passes the clinic and the Spears’ cafe, instead veering into the grocery store. It’s not a big grocery store, but it has everything the pack needs.

Warmth envelopes her as she steps inside. She swipes the first cart in the row of carts and starts pushing it down the first aisle. Bringing up the note app on her phone, she reads the first item on her list. She’s making lasagna tonight. It’s the easiest thing to make with this many people attending.

She weaves through the aisles, finding everything she needs, and when she turns down the aisle that holds the flour, she brings her phone up to her face and double-checks her notes app while she slowly walks down the aisle.

“Val?” a familiar voice calls.

Val looks up from her phone and grins at Viola. “Viola, how are you?”

Viola has a shopping basket in one arm and a purse in the other. She looks . . . well, she looks like shit. Val doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m doing fine.” Val can tell she’s lying, but again, Val says nothing about that. The woman lost her husband, her mate. Val can’t imagine . . .

Val takes a bag of flour from the shelf and adds it to her groceries as Viola stops at her side and peeks inside Val’s cart. “Lasagna?”

“How did you know?”

A small grin plays on the woman’s lips. “I do own a cafe, you know. I must say you’re brave for making your own pasta though.” She nods at the flour in Val’s cart.

“I learned how a few years ago, and now it’s just a habit.”

“Well” – she peeks into the cart once more – “don’t forget the eggs.”

“I won’t,” Val says as Viola turns to walk away. “Wait. Do you want to come?”

“Come where, dear?”