Boaz paused at the edge of the hill for a moment, letting his gaze sweep across the rolling fields.
Rows of tea shrubs stretched across the gentle slopes. Beyond them lay wide meadows scattered with wildflowers
He breathed in deeply, glad most of the pack had come out to work not letting what happened with the vampire last night ruin their day.
Boaz offered a few quiet greetings before veering toward the far side of the land, where the rows stretched out with fewer people nearby. He preferred working alone, with only the wind and the rustle of leaves for company.
The others didn’t question it. They knew he liked his solitude, and they respected it.
The day wore on in its usual rhythm. They worked through the morning, broke for lunch beneath the shade of the trees, and when the sun climbed too high and the heat turned too hot, the fields were abandoned.
Like he always did, Boaz slipped away to the meadow with his paints. The tall grass swayed lazily in the breeze, wildflowers nodding in patches of color around him. He set up beneath his favorite tree and let himself sink into the slow, peaceful glide of his brushes, blending colors on his canvas as he captured the wild beautiful land around him.
He planned to give the painting to Lyla tonight.
The thought sent a nervous energy thrumming through his veins. Boaz shoved the feeling away. He had to do it. He had to ask her out. Tell her how he felt. Let her know his intentions.
By evening, Boaz packed up his supplies and headed back to his cabin.
Inside, he cleaned up quickly, scrubbing away the day’s work, then dressed with more care than usual.
He pulled on his best shirt and a pair of well-fitted pants. The flannel hugged his broad shoulders and chest, the fabric stretching slightly over his muscles. The pants sat just right, giving him a clean, put-together look he rarely bothered with.
He ran his hands through his curly hair, trying to tame it, then glanced at himself in the mirror.
He looked… presentable.
Hopefully good enough to win Lyla’s heart, Boaz thought walking to the painting rested on an easel, still drying.
His plan for the night was simple. He’d ask her to come with him to his cabin. Show her the painting. And then, he’d tell her how much he liked her.
Boaz exhaled slowly, his chest tightening with a mix of anticipation and nerves.
Fuck.
“You can do this,” he muttered under his breath as he walked out of his cabin, heading to the barn where the pack gathered and shared meals most nights. The thick smell of roasted meat and fresh bread filled his nose as he stepped in.
Boaz kept his head low as he moved past the long, crowded tables. He slipped toward the back, where the food was being prepared, where he knew she would be.
And there she was.
He hadn’t seen her all day, and now she was right there before him. Her head was tilted to the side as she laughed at something someone said. She looked… so beautiful.
And suddenly, he wasn’t so sure of himself anymore.
“You can do this,” he told himself again as he dragged his palms down the front of his pants, trying to wipe away the nervous sweat.
Then he stepped toward her. But before he could take another step, a sudden commotion at the door cut through the noise, pulling everyone’s attention.
“Oh my God,” Lyla mouthed, her eyes widening.
Boaz turned to see what had caught her attention.
And froze. He forgot how to breathe.
Standing in the doorway was the vampire. A bouquet of flowers rested on his arm.
Gone were the loose robes and wild, untamed hair. In their place were fitted dark jeans that hugged his thighs, a crisp white shirt that looked as though it had been stolen from some medieval prince’s wardrobe. The fabric looked soft and expensive, pulled taut across his chest. And his hair was trimmed, each strand gleaming under the light.