Wesley knew his behavior over the past few minutes was the cause of Jobe’s hesitation. Years spent hiding his disappointment at the way his pack all but dismissed him had made Wesley proficient at keeping his emotions on an even keel. But the strain from the past week had clearly worn him down because when he had gotten his first look at the stranger who was his mate, Wesley had been aroused, immensely aroused. Then he had noticed the nude man inside Jobe’s house, which had snapped him out of his uncharacteristic hormone-driven trance and brought him back to his senses. His resentful, exhausted, and, if he was honest with himself, wounded senses.
The last thing Wesley wanted was to relive the problems he’d had in Purple Sky by making yet another pack wary of him, so he tried for an olive branch of sorts. “I’m not hungry, but water would be good.”
With a nod and a smile, Jobe walked down a hallway that presumably led to the kitchen.
Closing his eyes, Wesley took a deep breath and ordered his tight muscles to loosen. He was frustrated with why he was sent to Red River, but the shifters there weren’t at fault for his dismissal from Purple Sky. And while anger had been his gut reaction to seeing a naked man inside Jobe’s home, after a couple of minutes, Wesley’s brain had caught up with his body and he realized the room didn’t smell of sex or arousal so he hadn’t walked in on a tryst. But even if he had, being upset about it would have been irrational. Fated mates craved one another so deeply that other sexual partners didn’t appeal to them, but the arrangement he had agreed to wasn’t a real mating so he didn’t intend to limit himself to one person, and it made sense that Jobe would also have dalliances with other shifters. There was no reason for Wesley to be angry at him for that.
“You’re literally asleep on your feet. My dad wasn’t exaggerating when he said you were exhausted.”
Wesley opened his eyes to see Jobe standing directly in front of him, a glass of water in one hand and a steaming mug of something that smelled of oranges, cranberries, cinnamon, and cloves in the other.
“Tea,” Jobe said by way of explanation when Wesley looked at the mug. “It’s herbal. I thought—” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I brought the water too, but this will help you relax.”
Implied in that statement was an accusation that Wesley appeared on edge, which meant he wasn’t handling his emotions well. Not an acceptable quality in an Alpha. But arguing about it would support that position and trying to justify it would make him look defensive. Besides, there was something in Jobe’s empathetic eyes, his warm tone, even his relaxed posture, that told Wesley he wasn’t being challenged or judged. This man seemed genuine in his desire to soothe him and it struck Wesley that Jobe would be the perfect person for a busy, pressure-filled Alpha to confide in at the end of each day.
“Thank you.” Wesley took the water and swallowed it down in four big gulps.
“Do you want more?” Jobe reached for the empty glass.
“No.” Though he wasn’t normally a tea drinker, the aroma wafting from the mug wrapped around Wesley, providing the relaxation Jobe had promised. “But that tea smells good.”
“All the spices are local.” Jobe handed him the hot mug and took the glass. “Do you want to sit?” He tipped his head toward an overstuffed sofa upholstered in a mishmash of quilted patterns. “That couch is really comfortable.”
If he had to pretend to mate with someone, Wesley probably would have chosen a person with Jobe’s disposition. Not that he’d had a choice. But regardless, the tea smelled wonderful and he saw the wisdom in getting to know the man who would be by his side for the foreseeable future, so he nodded and stepped over to the couch.
“It’s definitely colorful.” He sank into the soft cushions and, without his permission, a happy moan escaped his grateful body.
Brown eyes twinkling, Jobe joined him on the couch. “What were you saying?”
With a sigh, Wesley leaned into the corner between the sofa back and the plush arm and stretched his tired legs out. “It’s very comfortable,” he admitted as he raised the mug to his mouth.
“Delores Jenkins, one of our pack members, is a skilled seamstress and her mate is a carpenter.” Jobe tucked his leg underneath his butt and mirrored Wesley’s position at the other end of the couch. “They made it for me when I chose this cabin as my home.”
There was a flash of familiarity as Wesley watched Jobe situate himself on the sofa, but it disappeared so quickly Wesley couldn’t pinpoint the source. Shaking off the odd feeling, he breathed in the spicy aroma wafting from the mug and then sipped the hot liquid.