Chapter 24 Tessa
Tessa
“Left,” I say, for the third time. “The arch goes on the left because that’s where people will be taking photos, and the light from the windows hits better on that side in the evening.”
They both stare at me like I’ve grown a second head.
The community center is chaos. Beautiful, organized chaos—or at least it will be organized once everyone stops asking me questions and just follows the seventeen-page event guide I emailed them all last week.
“Tessa.”
I look up from my clipboard to find Bea Wilson standing in front of me with a thermos and a paper bag. She’s wearing a puffy jacket over what looks like pajamas, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a messy bun.
Wait. That’s not Bea. That’s her mother. Marie Wilson.
“Mrs. Wilson?”
“Call me Marie, honey. We’ve been over this.” She holds out the thermos. “You need to eat.”
“I had coffee.”
“Coffee isn’t food.”
“It’s a bean. Beans are food.”
She gives me the Mom Look. The one that says she’s raised two kids and has absolutely no patience for my nonsense.
“Sit,” she says, pointing to a folding chair. “Eat. The balloon arch will survive five minutes without your supervision.”
I want to argue. I have approximately nine hundred things to do. But Marie Wilson is a force of nature, and also she’s holding what smells like fresh pastries from Maeve’s, and my stomach chooses this exact moment to growl.
“Five minutes,” I say, and sit.
She hands me the thermos—hot chocolate, not coffee—and pulls a cinnamon roll out of the paper bag. Still warm.
“Ben said you’d be here before dawn,” Marie says, settling into the chair next to me. “He wanted to come earlier, but I told him to let you get the initial setup done first.”
I pause with the cinnamon roll halfway to my mouth. “You told him?”
“Someone has to manage that boy.” She pats my knee. “I’ve known him his whole life. He’s been distracted by you for years. It was only a matter of time before he did something about it.”
My face goes hot. “We’re not—I mean, we haven’t—”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” Her voice is gentle. “I just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re okay. This is a lot—the event, the boys, everything.”
I set down the cinnamon roll. “Are you here to give me the ‘don’t hurt my son’ talk?”
Marie laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. No. Ben’s a grown man. He can handle his own heart.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m here because I remember what it’s like. Being young and scared and suddenly realizing you might actually get the thing you want. It’s terrifying.”
My throat tightens. “It really is.”
“Can I tell you something?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “When I met my alphas, I was convinced it would never work. They were too good. Too steady. I kept waiting for the catch.” She smiles. “Thirty years later, I’m still waiting. Turns out there wasn’t one.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“It was. It is.” She squeezes my hand again. “Those boys—Ben, Milo, Elijah—they’re good men. They’re not going to leave. But you have to let yourself believe that.”
I blink rapidly, refusing to cry at 6 a.m. in a gymnasium.
“Eat your cinnamon roll,” Marie says, standing. “And let Ben help you today. He’s been practicing his ‘supportive boyfriend’ face in the mirror all week.”
“He told you that?”
“He’s my son. I know everything.” She winks. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Tessa.”
I watch her go, then look down at the cinnamon roll in my hands. It tastes like sugar and cinnamon and the terrifying possibility of happiness.
By 7 a.m., the community center is starting to look like something other than a disaster zone.
The balloon arch is up. The tables are arranged correctly. Elijah’s stage stands proud and beautiful at the front of the room, dark wood catching the morning light.
Elijah is up there now, securing the last of the railings. He’s been here since before I arrived, quiet and focused. Every now and then I catch him looking at me, and when our eyes meet, the corner of his mouth twitches.
His henley is folded on my bed at home. I’ve been sleeping in it every night since Tuesday. I’m not ready to give it back.
“The stage looks incredible,” I call up to him. “You did amazing work.”
“Just wood and nails.”
“It’s a work of art.”
That almost-smile again. “Thank you, Tessa.”
A commotion near the entrance makes me turn. Ben is backing through the double doors, arms full of sound equipment.
“Coming through! Hot stuff coming through! And also this very heavy speaker!”
I snort. “Did you just call yourself hot stuff?”
“Absolutely did.” He sets the speaker down and grins at me. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m allowed to be confident.”
“That’s not what Valentine’s Day is about.”
“Sure it is. It’s about love and confidence and telling beautiful women how you feel about them.” He’s walking toward me now, that grin softening into something almost nervous. “Speaking of which. You got a second?”
“I have approximately nine hundred things to—”
“Thirty seconds. That’s all I need.”
I glance at my clipboard, then back at him. “Thirty seconds.”
He takes my hand and pulls me toward the side of the room, away from the volunteers. We end up in the little alcove by the storage closet.
“Okay.” Ben takes a breath. Runs his hand through his hair. “I had a whole speech planned. Practiced it in the shower. But I’m looking at you right now and I can’t remember a single word of it, so I’m just going to say the thing.”
“Ben—”
“Be my Valentine.”
I blink. “What?”
“Tonight. After the auction.” He’s still holding my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “I have tickets for the dinner.”
“How do you have tickets? Those sold out weeks ago. I know because I—”
“My mom.” He grins, a little sheepish. “She bought them before the blizzard. Said if I wasn’t going to make a move, she’d create the opportunity.”
I stare at him. “Your mother bought you dinner tickets?”
“She’s been watching me pine for three years. Apparently her patience ran out.” He squeezes my hand. “I know Milo took you to dinner. I know Elijah made you dinner. And I know I’ve been showing up with muffins and fixing things instead of making an actual move.”
“Ben—”
“But I’ve been waiting. Because I wanted to do this right.” His eyes meet mine. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Tessa. And I know I’m not smooth like Milo, and I can’t build beautiful things like Elijah, but I show up, I bring muffins. That’s what I do. That’s how I love people.”
My heart is pounding. “Ben.”
“So. Be my Valentine. Have dinner with me tonight. Please.”
I should say something witty. Something deflecting.
Instead I say, “Yes.”
His whole face changes. Like the sun coming out. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I’m smiling now. “But you should know—I really like the muffins.”
He laughs and pulls me into a hug, lifting me off my feet. His scent floods my senses—leather and musk and warmth.
“You’re not going to regret this,” he mumbles into my hair.
“I know.”
He sets me down but doesn’t let go. “Can I kiss you?”
“You’re asking permission?”
“I’m trying to be romantic.”
I grab the front of his flannel and pull him down to me.
The kiss is nothing like the cabin. No heat haze, no desperate biology. Just his mouth on mine, soft and slow. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, and he kisses me like he’s got all the time in the world.
When we pull apart, I’m breathless.
“Wow,” Ben says. “Okay. Yeah. Worth waiting for.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“I should let you get back to work.”
“You should.”
“I’m going to go carry heavy objects and think about that kiss for the next ten hours.”
“That sounds healthy.”
He kisses me again—quick and soft—then backs away, nearly trips over a chair, and disappears into the chaos.
I stand there for a moment, touching my lips.
Elijah catches my eye from the stage. He’s not smiling, but there’s warmth in his expression. Approval.
I shake my head, but I’m smiling as I turn back to my clipboard.
Tonight, I have a date with Ben Wilson. For the first time in my life, I’m actually looking forward to Valentine’s Day.
The rest of the day passes in a blur.
Ben stays close, helping with heavy lifting, bringing me water and snacks. Every time our eyes meet, he grins at me.
Milo shows up around noon with lunch. “Thought you could use real food.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Tonight’s going to be special. Trust us.”
By 5 p.m., everything is ready. The community center looks like something out of a romance movie—fairy lights, candles, Elijah’s stage standing proud.
I go home to change, my heart racing the whole time.
When I come back at 6:30, wearing a dark red dress that I bought specifically for tonight, the venue is already filling up. Couples finding their seats, volunteers doing final checks.
I find Mayor Bradley backstage, going over the auction lineup.
“Eight bachelors,” he says. “You’ll introduce each one, I’ll handle the bidding. Should be smooth.”
“Should be.”
“Nervous?”
“Why would I be nervous? I’ve done this twice before.”
He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push.
I take my place at the side of the stage, clipboard in hand, watching the room fill up. The auction will start soon, and then after—dinner. The winners get to have dinner with the bachelors they won. It’s the whole point of the event.
That’s when I see him.
Ben is standing near the bar, talking to a beautiful woman.
She’s stunning. Dark hair, delicate features, a smile that lights up her whole face. She’s touching Ben’s arm—casual, familiar—and he’s leaning in to hear what she’s saying.
Something hot and ugly twists in my stomach.
He asked me to be his Valentine this morning. He kissed me. And now he’s—
Ben laughs at something she says, and I want to march over there and stake my claim in front of everyone.
Which is insane. We had one kiss. One conversation. I have no right to feel this possessive.
But I do. God, I do.
“Tessa?” Mayor Bradley’s voice cuts through my spiral. “We’re ready to start.”
I tear my eyes away from Ben and his mystery woman. “Right. Yes. Let’s go.”
I climb the stairs to the stage, and the crowd quiets down. Fairy lights twinkle above me. Elijah’s stage is solid beneath my feet.
I can do this. I’ve done this before.
“Good evening, everyone!” My voice rings out clear and strong. “Welcome to Honeyridge Falls’ annual Valentine’s Day fundraiser!”
Applause. Cheers. I spot Bea Wilson in the crowd with three alphas around her—River, Grayson, and Seth. She gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up.
I go through my opening remarks on autopilot. Community center roof. Generous donations. Exciting lineup of eligible bachelors.
“Without further ado,” I say, “let’s start the bidding!”
The first bachelor takes the stage. Sam Hunter. Easy, straightforward. Mrs. Patterson wins him for three hundred dollars.
Second bachelor. Jake. Third. Fourth.
I’m finding my rhythm. This is fine. This is easy.
Then I see the dark-haired woman raise her paddle.
She’s bidding on Theo. Aggressively. Four hundred dollars.
She wins.
Dr. Lucas is next. Same thing. The woman bids—four-fifty. No one challenges her.
She wins again.
Nate Thorn steps up. The crowd murmurs. The woman raises her paddle before I’ve even finished the introduction.
“Fifty dollars,” she calls out.
Someone else bids. Seventy. Eighty.
“Three-fifty,” the woman says calmly.
The room goes silent.
“Three hundred fifty dollars,” I manage. “Going once... going twice... sold.”
Three bachelors. One woman. Who IS she?
My stomach is churning now, because there are only two bachelors left.
Milo. And Elijah.
I glance at my lineup card even though I’ve memorized it. They’re last. They’re the grand finale because they’re the most eligible, the most likely to draw big bids.
But now all I can think is, what if SHE bids on them?
The thought makes me physically ill. The idea of this beautiful stranger winning a date with Milo—with his easy charm and warm eyes. Or Elijah—quiet, steady Elijah who carved me heart-shaped vases and taught me to work with wood.
I can’t bid on them myself. I’m running the auction. It would be completely inappropriate.
And suddenly, violently, I understand why Ben refused to participate.
This is what he felt. This sick, jealous dread at the thought of someone else winning time with the person you want. He couldn’t stand the idea of going on a date with someone else when the only person he wanted was me.
I get it now. I get it completely.
Milo takes the stage, and my heart drops into my stomach.