"Give me the bag, Regan."
I turn to glare at Jackson. "No. What are you even doing here? Didn't you have to go to see the broken lock?"
Jackson steps closer. Thinking he's going to grab the bag off me, I clutch onto the grocery bag even tighter.
Offering me a wry smile, he shoves aside a trailing branch I was about two seconds away from walking into because I was too busy glaring at him.
"I had a feeling you were up to something. Now, tell me why we're trekking through the forest with a bag that smells like raw steak?"
I walk for several more seconds in silence with Jackson beside me, thinking about what I'm going to tell him.
After nearly giving me a heart attack by suddenly appearing at the bottom of the porch steps, he refused to let me go anywhere unless he came with me. In the minutes since then, I've been trying and failing to think of how to tell him about the boy without giving away what I am.
That he caught me at my first attempt to help the boy doesn't bode well for the future. Even worse, he seems to be able to tell when I'm lying, which is another strike against my hopes of slipping away.
"Regan?"
I stare down at the path we're taking to get to Dawley-Stone pack land. "Shhh. I'm thinking."
"Well, you might want to try looking and thinking at the same time," Jackson suggests blandly.
As I turn to him, confused, he reaches out and grips my arm before tugging me to one side. I don't understand why until I realize I was about to walk into a tree.
Another one.
That's when I realize I missed my opportunity to ask Talis or even Dayne what the hell happened after my vodka blackout. I make a mental note to send a text and, hopefully, Talis will clue me in.
"I'll just watch for you, okay?" Jackson sounds on the cusp of laughter, and I blink to refocus.
And discover that not only did I nearly walk into another tree, but that Jackson is still gripping my arm.
I jerk my arm away and ensure there's at least a foot of space between us. "No need."
To my surprise, Jackson let's go and we walk for several more minutes in silence as we trek through the National Forest.
"There was a boy," I start, figuring I'll tell him just enough to get him off my back. "He was the one I was chasing earlier."
"A boy?" Jackson sounds confused. "You were chasing a wolf."
Shaking my head, I explain, "That's what I thought at first. That he was a wild wolf, but then I realized he wasn't. He was a boy shifter, so that's why I packed the food. For him."
I congratulate myself on how it sounds like I'm telling Jackson everything, but am keeping hidden all the things I don't want him to know.
"How did you know he was a shifter and not a wolf?"
Jackson's question is so… blindingly obvious that I berate myself for not thinking of an answer before I opened my big mouth. I take a second to scrabble around for an answer to the question I should've seen coming long before he asked it. "Uh, a smell."
His eyebrow goes up. "A smell?"
I nod sharply. "I scented him."
Jackson stares at me for a long time. "Regan. I don't have to tell you that as an alpha, and as a shifter older than you, my nose is more highly attuned than yours is. Consider, for example, how I was able to surprise you at the rental. So, when I tell you that the wolf you were chasing did not smell like a shifter, I want you to understand that I know what I'm talking about."
Well, that sure told me.
I start thinking of a new lie.
"Now," Jackson says, proving himself to be a mind reader, "stop hunting for another lie and tell me the truth. How did you know the wolf you were chasing was a boy?"
It's times like this that I wish he were younger, less… capable, or that I was more… something. But then I remember, at thirty-one, at least according to Savannah, he's eight years older than me, so he's going to have different life experiences to my relatively sheltered life in Hardin.
Despite his words, I spend several more seconds trying to think up another lie because the thought of telling him that I'm not only an omega, but a broken one, isn't something I'm eager to do.
Instead, I focus on the path ahead, hugging the grocery bag to my chest as we go, growing increasingly anxious the longer it takes to think up an excuse.
This isn't something I like to talk about, even with Dayne, and I didn't even tell Talis who's been my closest friend for months. The idea of talking about it with Jackson, a stranger, and one I'm attracted to isn't easy to do.
By not easy, I mean impossible, so I shake my head. "I can't."
Jackson says nothing for so long that I dart a glance and find him studying me with a line between his brow. "You can't, or you won't?"
I don't even have to think of my response. "I can't." I tense as I wait for him to force me to tell him.
He turns away from me. "Okay."
I stop looking where I'm going because I'm too busy gaping at him in surprise. "What do you mean, okay?"
"I think it's pretty self-explanatory."
"No," I correct him instantly. "With you, it's not. Do you mean, okay, that's cool, you don't have to tell me anything? Okay, I'm going to let it go for now, but wake you up in the middle of the night and beat the truth from you? Or okay, it's really not okay and secretly-"
Jackson stops my ramble to save me from yet another tree, but he doesn't move away. He peers into my eyes for so long I get uncomfortable and lean away. "What?"
He sniffs my face, and after nodding, turns and resumes walking.
I rush after him. "What was that? Why did you sniff me like that?"
"I was checking if you'd been drinking."
I stop walking. "You thought I was drunk?"
Jackson continues for a while before he realizes I'm not following. He turns with a raised eyebrow and amusement in his eyes. "You coming?"
"No. Not until you tell me why you thought I was drunk. Is it because I talk too much?" I pause for a second. "Because, just so you know, this is how I normally am, so if you have a problem with it, then you shouldn't have pushed me to stay. Now, you're stuck with me."
For a long time, Jackson regards me in silence with an unreadable expression on his face. Just as I'm about to ask what he's thinking, he smiles wryly. "Let's go. I'd rather we get out of the National Forest before we bump into any hikers wanting to know why you smell of meat."
Huffing, I resume walking again. "I do not smell of meat."
Jackson snorts. "It's a warm day and you're hugging a bag of steak. You smell of meat."
Now that he's mentioned it, I realize that not only is he right, but the smell has been growing stronger since we left the rental. At this point, he's right to suspect that even a human nose is going to be able to pick up on it.
Since it seems pointless to argue about something impossible to deny, I say nothing. And although I feel Jackson glance at me, he doesn't speak again for several seconds.
He does seem to like his silent introspections.
Must be an alpha thing.
Again, I feel the weight of Jackson's gaze on the side of my face. "You sure I can't take the-"
"No," I interrupt, "stop being one of those guys who don't think women can carry anything heavier than their purse."
He goes quiet and I mentally wince.
Where the hell did that come from?
I tell myself that not only did he save Savannah's life, but he's carrying around some serious mental anguish, so I try to be a little less bitchy. "Thanks, but it's not heavy," I say, a touch belatedly.
Although my gaze is fixed ahead as we cross from the National Forest and into the Dawley-Stone land, I feel him glance at me again.
Probably wondering if I'm crazy.
"So, what do you do in Hardin?" Jackson surprises me by asking.
I speak without thinking, "I'm a veterinary assistant."
When he pauses midstep, I realize I may have just erred because, as a shifter, I can't-or rather shouldn't-be anywhere near animals, especially the smaller, domesticated variety.
It doesn't matter whether we're in our human shape or our wolf; we will always smell like predators. So, yeah, no shifter would ever work near animals.
Jackson points a sharp gaze my way. "A veterinary assistant?"
I nod and turn away, hoping he thinks this is just me making more of an effort to look where I'm going instead of avoiding his gaze while I lie. "Yeah, I work from home, since it's mostly admin. Answering calls and booking appointments, that kind of thing."
"That's… unusual. I'd have thought they worked in the surgery."
"Most do, but since Hardin is pretty much in the country, the vet is out all day making farm calls. Since he's not there, I don't need to be." I marvel at my ability to talk out of my ass.
How did I learn to lie so good?
"So, you never work in the surgery?" Jackson asks in an unreadable tone.
I dart a glance at him and find he's no longer looking at me. But since all I see is his profile, I can't read his expression. "No. I can't, I mean, I'm a shifter."
"Good," Jackson says.
"Good? Why would that be good?"
Jackson steps into a clearing and glances around. "How about we stop for a bit?"
I stare at Jackson. Why am I getting the feeling I just missed something important? Something that has the potential to cause me problems down the road.
He drops to the ground at the base of a tree and stretches his legs out in front of him. "Come sit."
I'm guessing he means right beside him. Still, I hesitate, because Jackson and I on a forest floor doesn't seem like a good idea.
Likely guessing the direction of my thoughts, his lips curve in a smile. "Not for that. Not now anyway. Didn't you say you were tired back at the house?"
He must know I was lying about that to get rid of him, but he gazes up at me so innocently that I struggle to find an excuse not to sit. With a sigh, I start toward him.
"Leave the bag over there. I could do with a break from the smell."
I'm ready to argue, but then I stop. I've spent a large portion of this little adventure arguing, and truth be told, I'm kind of sick of the smell of raw meat, too.
At first, it didn't bother me in the least, but after a while, it's a bit much. Maybe if I was a wolf, it'd still smell pretty good to me, but right now, I prefer my steak to be a little more well done than body warm.
After placing the grocery bag a few feet away from where Jackson is sitting, I prepare to sit at the next tree beside him
Jackson holds his hand out. "Come here."
There's no doubt it's an order that will probably come with a wrestling match if I don't comply. The determination in his eyes makes that clear. So, after heaving a dramatic sigh that has his lips twitching, I drop beside him.
Not even a second goes by before he's curving an arm around my shoulders and tucking my face in the crook of his neck and shoulder.
He inhales. "Your hair smells nice."
He smells good. All of him. But since I can't tell him that, I keep silent.
"Like berries and gum."
My lips curve in a reluctant smile. "Strawberry and mint, you idiot."
"Idiot?" His voice is a rumble of sound as he relaxes against me. "I hope you're not in the habit of calling your alpha an idiot."
"At least five times a day," I admit in a sober voice.
He draws in another deep breath. "Well, it smells good. I've always had a thing for fruity smelling redheads with green eyes."
I snort. "Well, it's a good thing I'm a brunette with hazel eyes and who smells nothing like fruit then."
Jackson kisses my hair. "I should buy you a mirror, darlin' because clearly, you have no idea what you look like."
Although I have some red in my hair and a little green in my hazel eyes, he's still mostly wrong. But when I prepare to argue, I swallow a yawn instead.
At that point, the fight goes out of me because after smelling nothing but raw steak for the last few miles, he smells even better, so I burrow even closer.
We sit like that for several minutes in silence. Since the weather is mild, and Jackson, for all he's nothing but solid muscle, is surprisingly comfortable, I let my eyes flutter closed as I relax against him.
"Jackson?"
"Hmm."
"I'm feeling the need to remind you that this is only for a couple of days. Me staying. And it's only to make sure the boy is okay. I don't want you thinking this is anything more than temporary."
"Of course, it is," Jackson murmurs.
I pause. "That sounds like you humoring me. Not agreeing."
"Hmm-mmm."
I open my eyes because even though he didn't say anything, I've been around him long enough to know when he's laughing at me. "I still don't believe you're taking me seriously."
"Regan, just relax. We're in a wild forest, in nature, just take a moment to enjoy it."
Sensing this isn't a battle I'm in danger of winning anytime soon, I sigh and close my eyes again.
I don't intend on drifting off, but I must because when I next open my eyes, I find the light has changed and what was once a bright midday sun is a little duller than before. It's not threatening to rain or anything, but it feels more like afternoon than morning.
The moment I sit up, Jackson does as well. "Awake?" he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep.
Nodding, I move to stand. "How long was I out?"
He lets me go but doesn't rise himself, just remains sitting as he watches me stretch the kinks out of my back and neck. "Maybe an hour. You ready to head back?"
I nod. "Yeah, I'm hungry. Speaking of food, why can't I smell-" I stop when I find the grocery bag is not where I left it. "It's gone!"
I hear Jackson get to his feet, but I don't turn to see. "Of course, it's gone, it's a bag that smells like meat and we're in a forest surrounded by wild animals."
"But… the boy. Why didn't you say that before?" I demand, trying to ignore a fact so obvious that I should've known myself. Still, he was the one who told me to set the bag some distance away, so I'm blaming him for wild animals getting to it before the boy could.
"Probably the boy came and took it."
I turn to glare at him. "And what makes you so sure?"
Jackson grabs my hand before I can stop him and tugs me back in the direction of the rental. "If it were wild animals, then I doubt they'd have taken the chips and the soda I heard rolling around in there. I'm pretty sure they'd have torn the bag open to get to the meat."
That makes sense.
I glance up at him. "You're a lot smarter than I thought you were," I tell him, mostly because I'm trying to provoke him.
He snorts. "You back to trying to drive me away, darlin'?"
"You miss a 'g' off 'darling', but you don't sound like you're from the south. Why is that?"
Jackson flashes me a grin. "Women seem to like it. Especially in bed."
I'll just bet they do.
Arousal stirs and I clear my throat. "Well. Savannah said you were from Chicago."
He shrugs. "That was just the latest stop. Jeremy and I moved around a lot. Even spent some time in the south," he says with a grin that tells me he didn't miss the scent of my arousal.
I frown. "With your pack?"
While it might be normal for the average human to move around a lot, that isn't the case with shifters. Once we settle down somewhere, we never leave it. There are some packs where the family line can be traced back generation after generation because they never left.
My parents only moved because it was a dream of theirs to settle somewhere near a beach and soak up the sun. Whether it turns out to be forever, I can't say, and neither can they. Maybe one day they'll feel the urge to return.
"No, just us two," Jackson says in a casual tone, as if he's talking about the weather.
But something tells me I'm veering close to something painful. I don't know if it'd be as obvious to anyone that wasn't an omega, but for me, it is.
There's some inner sense that makes me utterly certain that Jackson does not want to talk about this.
Since I have no desire to peel back the layers of a painful past, I focus my attention on the forest in front of us. "Do you work out on Sundays?"
There's a pause, as if Jackson's trying to work out how my new question relates to my last. I don't help him.
"No, why?"
He sounds confused, which means he's no longer thinking about whatever painful event I drew to the surface.
Good.
"No reason."
I feel his gaze on the top of my head as we head back to the rental, knowing he must be thinking I'm crazy, or most likely, drunk.