Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Garrett
The rest of Monday and all of Tuesday passed in a blur of physical labor that I welcomed. Anything to keep my hands busy and my mind from drifting back to Daphne—the way she'd looked at the market, the sharpness in her voice when she'd defended herself, the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.
Oliver and I had talked with our other two packmates Micah and Levi, Monday night. Micah, the quietest of us all, had raised an eyebrow when Oliver mentioned what happened at the market.
"So we're courting someone now?" Micah asked in his dry but not unkind tone. "It would've been nice to know before the whole town found out."
"We're not courting anyone," Oliver had said firmly. "Yet. But Trinity forced my hand. I had to say something to get her to back off."
Levi, who ran the business side of our logging operation, had leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "And this Daphne... she's the one Garrett's been talking about?"
All eyes had turned to me, and I'd felt my neck heat. "I mentioned her once. Maybe twice."
"Try five times," Levi had said with a grin, blue eyes gleaming with amusement as some of his blond hair fell into his face.. "You told us about her garden, her stall at the market, the way she lives out here alone and seems perfectly content with it. That's more than 'once or twice,' brother."
I'd shrugged, unable to deny it. "She's interesting. Different from anyone I've met."
"Different how?" Micah had asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
"She doesn't need anyone," I'd said simply. "She's built this whole life for herself—self-sufficient, independent. She doesn't bend just because someone expects her to. And she sure as hell isn't impressed by the fact that we're Alphas."
Oliver had nodded. "She stood up to Trinity without flinching. That takes guts."
Levi had studied me for a long moment before speaking. "So what's the plan? Are we actually pursuing this, or was it just damage control?"
The question had hung in the air, heavy with possibility. I'd looked at Oliver, who'd looked back at me with that same calculating expression he always wore when he was thinking something through.
"I think," Oliver had said slowly, "that we should get to know her. No pressure, no expectations. Just... see where it goes."
And that's how we'd left it. No formal decision, no concrete plan. Just an agreement to be open to the possibility.
Now it was Tuesday night, and I was standing in my half-renovated kitchen, staring at the bag of coffee beans I'd picked up in town earlier. I'd spent way too much time choosing them—trying to figure out what Daphne might like. Something smooth but not too sweet. Rich but not overpowering.
"You're overthinking this," I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair.
But I couldn't help it. Tomorrow morning, I'd be walking onto her property, into her carefully constructed world.
And despite her agreement to let me visit, I had the distinct feeling that one wrong move could send her retreating behind those walls she'd built so high.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the handful of photos I'd taken of the Henderson property over the past few days.
The old apple trees she'd mentioned were there, gnarled and overgrown but still standing.
I'd cleared some of the brush around them, and they looked better already.
With proper care, they might actually produce fruit again.
Would she be impressed by that? Or would she see it as me trying too hard?
I set the phone down with a sigh. This was ridiculous. I was a grown man, an Alpha who'd helped build a successful business from the ground up. I shouldn't be this nervous about bringing coffee to a neighbor.
But Daphne wasn't just a neighbor. She was... something else. Something I couldn't quite define yet.
My phone buzzed with a text from Oliver: Stop overthinking. Just be yourself tomorrow.
I snorted. Of course he knew exactly what I was doing.
Easy for you to say, I texted back.
Not really. I'm just as curious about her as you are. But pushing won't work with someone like her. Let her come to us on her own terms.
He was right, of course. Oliver usually was when it came to reading people.
Noted, I replied. See you tomorrow night.
We were all planning to meet up after my visit to Daphne's—a debrief of sorts, though none of us were calling it that. The pack wanted to know what I thought, whether she seemed open to getting to know us, whether there was any real potential there.
The truth was, I already knew the answer. There was potential. More than I'd expected. The question was whether Daphne would let herself see it too.
I spent the rest of the evening finishing some repairs on the cabin's front porch, the rhythmic sound of hammer on nail oddly soothing. By the time I headed to bed, my muscles ached in a satisfying way, and my mind was finally quiet enough to let me sleep.
But even in my dreams, I saw her—standing in her garden, sunlight catching in her hair, looking at me with those guarded eyes that held secrets I wanted to uncover.
Wednesday morning couldn't come fast enough.