14. TATI
Chapter fourteen
TATI
The air outside is crisp, biting at my cheeks as Ashton and I walk side by side down the sidewalk. My heart’s still doing this stupid tap-dance routine in my chest, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my hoodie to keep from fidgeting.
Ashton, on the other hand, is the epitome of casual. Hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, his long legs eating up the pavement effortlessly as he strolls beside me like we’ve been doing this for years. His rich citrusy scent wraps around me in a way that’s almost suffocating but also soothing? I don’t know. It’s too much and not enough, all at once.
“Alright, little doe,” he drawls, tilting his head slightly as he glances over at me with those stupidly pretty brown eyes. “Where are we headed?”
I freeze mid-step, turning my wide eyes to him like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh… nowhere?”
One of his brows arches, amusement flickering across his face. “Nowhere?”
I sigh, kicking a stray pebble down the street before looking away. “It’s not like I had a plan, okay? I just… it was too much. Back there. In the house. Your scent, Ryder’s scent, Carleen’s scent—it was just…” I groan, throwing my head back and letting out an exaggerated noise of frustration. “ Too much. ”
When I look back at Ashton, he’s grinning. Like, full-on grinning , dimples showing, and everything. “Too much, huh?” he murmurs, taking a slow step closer to me.
I freeze again, my breath hitching in my throat as his large hand reaches out and gently takes mine. My heart stutters as his thumb brushes lightly over my knuckles before he lifts my hand toward his face. His lips press against the back of my hand, his eyes never leaving mine.
It’s like the entire street disappears.
It’s just him . Just Ashton.
And then it hits me.
Like a freight train.
Those eyes—those ridiculously pretty brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, with just a glint of mischief and heat behind them—I know those eyes. My breath catches as realization slams into me. “ You! ”
The word bursts out of me and I yank my hand back, stumbling a step away from him. Ashton tilts his head, his smirk growing wider as his hands drop back into his pockets. “Me,” he confirms, his voice low and playful.
I point at him, my finger trembling slightly as my face turns a shade of red I didn’t even know was possible. “You—you were at Euphoria! You—you’ve been there before!”
His grin turns downright wicked as he takes a lazy step toward me. “I wondered how long it’d take you to figure it out, little doe.”
Little doe.
That word. That name .
I’ve heard it before—softly whispered in the dark, barely audible over the pulse of the music, from a figure tucked away in the shadows of the club. A man whose eyes always followed me as I danced, whose presence felt heavy and warm even from across the room. There were a few times I served his table but seeing Ashton here—my secret admirer and now my Alpha here, everything just becomes a bit too much—more than it already was.
“You’re—oh my Goddess—you’re him! ”
Ashton chuckles, the sound deep and smooth, like velvet being dragged across gravel. “Guilty as charged, sweetheart.”
My face is on fire . I can barely breathe, let alone process what’s happening right now. “You—you knew it was me?” I sputter.
He shrugs, his smirk softening slightly into something more gentle, worry etching into his brows. “Not at first. But then I caught your scent back at the house, and… yeah. It clicked.”
I groan, covering my face with my hands. “This is too much. Too much. Nope. Can’t do this.”
I spin on my heel, ready to bolt, but Ashton’s hand closes gently around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. “Tati,” he says softly. “Hey. Breathe. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
I freeze, my back still to him, my chest rising and falling way too fast. He steps closer, all of those gorgeously hard ridges pressed up against me. “Look, we don’t have to go anywhere. You don’t have to run errands and I don’t have to follow you around like some lovesick puppy. But I think maybe you just need a break from all the chaos. Yeah?”
I turn my head slightly, just enough to catch his expression. His face is soft now, his smirk gone, replaced with something concerned. Ashton tilts his head toward a little café across the street—a tiny corner spot with fairy lights strung up on the awning and mismatched chairs scattered around the outdoor patio.
“Come on,” he says, his voice coaxing. “Let me buy you a coffee—or tea, or whatever you like. Just… let’s sit down for a minute. No pressure, no expectations.”
I hesitate, my heart still hammering in my chest but I agree because Ashton is right. I need a minute to sort all the chaos in my head. He releases my wrist, his hand lingering for just a second before he steps back and gestures toward the café.
“After you, little doe.”
I roll my eyes at the nickname, but my lips twitch upward despite myself.
“Stop calling me that,” I mutter, shoving my hands back into my pockets as I start walking across the street.
“Can’t make any promises,” he calls after me, his warm laugh chasing me all the way to the café doors.
The café is warm and cozy, smelling like roasted coffee beans, vanilla syrup, and something sugary that makes my stomach growl despite the tight knot of nerves sitting in it. Ashton holds the door open for me, one brow quirked as I shuffle inside, my hoodie sleeves pulled down over my hands.
He’s too relaxed. Too effortlessly cool as he strolls up to the counter like he owns the place, pulling out his black card with a flick of his wrist. “Espresso,” he says casually, flashing the barista that charming, wicked grin of his.
The barista—a Beta with bright pink hair and tired eyes—types it in before turning to me expectantly.
My mouth opens. Then closes. I don’t know what to order. Or rather, I do , but the idea of saying it out loud in front of Ashton freaking St. James makes me want to evaporate into mist. When I don’t say anything, the barista tilts her head slightly, her lips twitching into a soft smile.
“Your usual?” she asks gently.
I freeze. The usual? Oh no.
“Do you want the mocha latte with triple whip and chocolate chips?”
Kill me. Just… kill me now.
I sigh heavily, my face heating as I nod. “Yeah. That one.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Ashton’s grin stretches impossibly wider and I swear his shoulders are shaking like he’s holding back a laugh.
We grab our drinks—his tiny cup of espresso looking positively judgmental next to my towering monstrosity of whipped cream and chocolate—and Ashton leads us to a spot by the counter. It’s not crowded here, the stools tucked away against the large window. Outside, people bustle past, living their lives, unaware that my entire existence is currently imploding.
Ashton sets his espresso down, slides onto a stool, and watches me as I settle awkwardly beside him, the silence stretching between us. His brown eyes flicker down to my untouched drink, still piled high with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. He looks back up at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Everything okay, Tati?”
I blink at him, clutching my drink with both hands but not taking a sip. “Uh, yeah. Totally fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? Everything’s fine. Totally normal,” I ramble, my voice cracking slightly at the end.
Ashton tilts his head, his smirk twitching back to life. “Tati,” he purrs, leaning on his forearms and lowering his voice like he’s letting me in on some grand secret, “why aren’t you drinking it?”
I freeze, staring at the whipped cream like it might offer me salvation. “I… I don’t know,” I mumble.
Ashton snorts softly, shaking his head before leaning back slightly on his stool. “Let me guess,” he says smoothly, tilting his head as he studies me. “You think I’m judging you for it, don’t you?”
My head snaps up, my eyes wide. “No!”
His smirk deepens. “Yes, you do. You think I’m over here with my espresso, looking down my nose at your sugary monstrosity of a drink.”
I sputter, my face heating further. “I mean—it’s not that sugary.”
Ashton laughs, the sound warm and deep, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. “Tati,” he says softly, reaching across the narrow table until his knuckles brush against my cheek.
I go stock-still, my breath catching as his thumb hovers just under my jaw. His brown eyes soften, his expression morphing into something that feels like home.
“I think it’s wonderful you like sugar,” he says. “Honestly, it’s one of my favorite things to make. Desserts, pastries… sugar is fun , little doe. It makes people happy. And me?” Ashton murmurs, his lips curling back into that slow, wicked smile. “I like sweet things too.”
Oh. Oh no.
I make a noise—somewhere between a squeak and a hiccup—and immediately lift my mocha latte monstrosity to my lips. I take the biggest sip I can manage, whipped cream smearing across my upper lip and chocolate chips crunching between my teeth.
Ashton grins, full teeth this time, leaning his chin against his fist as he watches me like I’m the most entertaining thing he’s seen all day. “Good?” he asks innocently.
I narrow my eyes at him over the rim of my cup and refuse to answer as I sip my drink, my shoulders relaxing bit by bit. Ashton starts talking—about desserts he’s made, about kitchen disasters he and Ryder have had on the road, about the time he nearly set a ten-thousand-dollar oven on fire because he “got distracted by the view.”
He’s funny. Like, really funny. And not in an over-the-top, trying-too-hard kind of way. It’s effortless, easy, the kind of humor that puts me at ease and makes me forget that I was a blushing mess five minutes ago.
Eventually, my cup is empty, and his espresso is long gone. We sit there, watching the world outside the window for a moment. Finally, Ashton stretches, his arms flexing as he rolls his shoulders back. “Alright, little doe. What do you say we head back before Carleen starts pacing holes into the floor?”
I snort, standing up and brushing whipped cream residue off my hoodie. “You act like she’s a worried mom or something.”
Ashton grins, holding the café door open for me as we step back into the chilly afternoon air. “Tati, if you think she’s not pacing right now, you haven’t been paying attention.” And for the first time since we left the apartment, I find myself laughing .
Walking back with Ashton feels easy .
Too easy, maybe, considering how my brain’s been doing backflips ever since we left the café. But Ashton? He’s just here . Chatting, gesturing with his hands, flashing me that sharp grin every time I laugh at one of his jokes.
And I laugh a lot.
I learn that Ashton and Ryder have been a pack for years—first as friends, then something more. They met at a culinary school event that Ashton only attended because he’d heard the catering would be “absolutely bomb.” Turns out, Ryder was the head chef for the event, all stoic silence and focused energy, and Ashton was the loud, sarcastic student sneaking extra hors d'oeuvres off the platters.
“He caught me red-handed,” Ashton says, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a crooked grin. “I had three crab puffs stuffed into my mouth like a damn chipmunk.”
I snort, nearly choking on my laugh. “Oh my goddess, shut up.”
“True story,” he muses, eyes glinting with mischief. “The man didn’t even blink. Just stared me down with those icy blue eyes and said, ‘If you’re going to eat that many, at least have the decency to pair them with the right sauce.’”
I double over laughing, clutching my stomach. “You mean to tell me Ryder— the Ryder—read you for sauce pairings while you were in full chipmunk mode?”
Ashton shrugs, grinning. “Dead serious. And listen, little doe—it worked. I paired those crab puffs with the damn sauce, and the rest is history.”
I’m still laughing when Ashton shifts closer, his warm brown eyes softening as they linger on my face. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me—like he’s memorizing every line, every freckle, every flicker of amusement across my face—that makes me feel seen .
As we near the apartment building, the easy rhythm of our conversation slows, replaced by something heavier. It’s not awkward, not exactly, but there’s something else in the air now.
Something thick .
Something expectant.
I don’t want to leave this moment. I don’t want to head back to my room, back to the nest I hid in earlier. I like this—being here, being with him. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks—I want what they’re offering.
A pack. Love. Safety. A place where I can just be.
I want it so badly my chest aches with it.
“I should head in,” I murmur, my voice softer now. “I need to change, eat something, and then head off to Euphoria.”
Ashton nods, his brown eyes never leaving mine. He holds out a hand, palm up, waiting. I hesitate for only a second before slipping my smaller hand into his.
His fingers close around mine and then he’s tugging me gently until I’m right there, pressed against his chest. Ashton stares down at me, his face softer now, the sharp edges of his grin replaced with something more serious .
“Little doe…”
It’s just my nickname, but the way he says it—low and husky—makes something in my chest snap . Before I can process what’s happening, Ashton dips his head and kisses me. His lips are warm, firm, and absolutely commanding. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess—he just takes .
And goddess, do I let him.
I melt against him, my hands lifting to clutch the front of his jacket as his other hand finds its way to the small of my back, holding me there. The kiss isn’t rushed, but it’s not gentle either. It’s intentional . Like he’s trying to tell me something without saying a single word.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless, my forehead pressed against his chest as I try to steady the frantic pounding of my heart. Ashton’s breathing just as heavily, his thumb brushing along the side of my waist in slow, soothing circles. I can feel him against me again, as well as his interest thickening against my belly. My fantasies run wild before I can stop them and of course, my body works faster than my head, a moan filtering through my lips.
Ashton takes it in stride, grinning down at me as he kisses me again. “I’ll give you that later, Tati. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Way to ruin the moment,” I mumble, slapping his chest as I detangle myself from him but I’m not mad. I like Ashton’s laid back demeanor. And the fact that we already kind of know each other—as crazy as that is—makes this all better.