Chapter 4
River
Ican't stop thinking about the woman from the festival.
Saturday at the Thanksgiving Festival, I'd been heading over to say hi to Levi when I spotted her near Sadie's flower booth. Dark hair catching the afternoon light, green eyes that sparkled when she smiled. Something about her made my brain just stop working.
I'd been trying to work up the nerve to approach when her ex showed up.
Watched the whole thing unfold. The way her entire body went rigid. How he followed her through the crowd with that entitled determination that made my hackles rise. The desperation in her face right before she grabbed Seth Monroe and kissed him like her life depended on it.
My chest had gone tight watching her panic. Watching her need to do something that extreme just to make a guy back off.
Then Sadie had mentioned her name in passing to Levi, and I'd nearly choked on my kettle corn.
Bea Wilson. Ben's little sister.
No fucking way.
I mean, I knew Ben had a sister. Knew she'd gone off to college four years ago.
But the last time I'd seen her she'd been what, seventeen?
Eighteen? Just a kid leaving for school.
I hadn't paid attention because why would I?
She was Ben's little sister and I was twenty-six and focused on taking over the family business.
But Saturday? That woman wasn't a kid. She was fierce and beautiful and had looked at her ex with the kind of fire that made my alpha sit up and take notice.
And now she's all I can think about.
It's Monday morning, and I'm at work trying to focus on inventory. Failing miserably.
The bell chimes. Margie Winslow wheels in her shopping cart, eyes already gleaming.
"River Brooks, did you see what happened at the festival Saturday?"
"Which part?" I keep my voice neutral, restocking paint cans.
"Bea Wilson kissing Deputy Monroe right in front of everyone!" She leans on her cart like she's settling in for a long chat. "Her ex-boyfriend followed her all the way from college. Wouldn't leave her alone. That poor girl looked ready to bolt before she just grabbed Seth and—well. You saw it."
Yeah. I saw it.
"Glad her ex got the message," I say carefully.
"He left town Saturday night, thank goodness." Margie picks up light bulbs she doesn't need. "Bea started at the general store this morning, got her old job back."
My alpha perks up at that information. "That's good. She okay?"
"Embarrassed, from what I hear. But who wouldn't be after that spectacle?" Margie studies me a little too closely. "You and Ben are friends, aren't you? You should check on her. Make sure she's settling in alright."
I clear my throat, trying to ignore how my pulse just kicked up a notch. "Yeah. Maybe I will."
"Good boy." Margie pats my arm like I'm twelve. "Now, do you actually have the light bulbs I need, or are you going to stand there daydreaming all morning?"
After Margie leaves, I try to focus on work. The usual Monday morning rush—people who spent the weekend at the festival now need supplies for projects they started and can't finish. But my mind keeps drifting.
Around noon, Milo shows up with sandwiches from Millie's. He's been bringing me lunch most days when I'm working alone—says it's to make sure I actually eat instead of subsisting on coffee and determination.
"You've been quiet today." He drops into the chair across from my desk. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine." I unwrap my sandwich without much appetite. "Just busy."
"Uh-huh." Milo studies me. "This about Saturday? The festival?"
No point lying to my best friend. "I saw Bea Wilson. Before the whole thing with the deputy."
"Haven't seen her in what, four years?"
"About that." I set down my sandwich. "Didn't even recognize her at first. Then I found out who she was and—yeah."
"And now you can't stop thinking about her," Milo finishes. "You interested?"
The directness catches me off guard. "I don't know. Maybe?"
Milo sniffs the air deliberately, then grins. "Your scent just got real interested in that sandwich you're not eating. Or maybe it's not the sandwich."
"Shut up."
"That's a yes." He leans back, looking far too pleased with himself. "Been what, two years since you dated anyone seriously? And now you're losing your mind over Ben's sister."
"I'm not losing my mind."
"You're not eating sandwiches and practically vibrating in your chair." Milo's grin softens. "Look, I'm glad. You've been alone too long, man. Always said you were waiting for the right person. Maybe this is her."
I want to argue, but something in my chest tightens at those words. The right person. I'd always told myself I was busy with the store, focused on building something. But the truth is I've been waiting. For someone who made me feel like this. Like I'd been sleepwalking and suddenly woke up.
"So what are you going to do about it?" Milo asks.
"Nothing stupid," I mutter.
"Well, she's single now. And apparently willing to kiss random alphas when desperate." Milo's tone turns more serious. "That ex was a real piece of work on Saturday. You see how he was following her around?"
"Yeah. I saw." Protective anger tightens my chest. "Guy wouldn't take no for an answer. Just kept pushing until she had to do something that extreme to make him back off."
"Exactly." Milo pauses. "Which is why you need to be careful. She just escaped one alpha who wouldn't leave her alone. Don't be another one pushing."
"I'm not going to push."
"I know you won't. You're too nice for that." He stands, gathering the sandwich wrappers. "But that girl's got walls up for a reason. If you're serious, you're going to need patience."
"I can be patient."
After Milo leaves, I stare at my desk for exactly ten minutes before making a decision.
I need supplies from the general store. Legitimate supplies. The fact that Bea works there now is just convenient timing.
I grab my list, lock up for lunch, and head down Main Street.
The November air is crisp and cold, carrying the scent of wood smoke from chimneys and pine from the surrounding mountains.
The walk takes five minutes. I spend every second of it trying to figure out what to say that won't sound like I'm another alpha pushing into her space.
Also trying not to think about how pathetic it is that I'm this nervous about talking to someone.
The general store smells like old wood and coffee and something sweet that makes my alpha instincts hum with interest before I even see her. That hint of cinnamon-apple underneath the coffee and dust. Omega. My body recognizes it before my brain catches up.
Then I do see her, and my entire body responds.
Bea stands behind the counter, scowling at the cash register like it personally insulted her family. Dark hair escapes from a ponytail, flannel shirt rolled up to her elbows. She smacks the side of the register and it beeps obediently.
"Thank you," she mutters.
I bite back a smile.
She looks up, and those bright green eyes meet mine. Recognition flickers, followed immediately by wariness.
"River Brooks." She straightens, putting on a customer-service smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
At least she knows who I am. Small town. Ben's friend, owns the hardware store. We've probably passed each other on Main Street a hundred times over the years, just never really talked.
Her scent hits me properly now that she's focused on me. Cinnamon and apple with sharp winter air underneath. Warm and tart and absolutely perfect. My alpha practically preens, wanting to get closer, wanting to wrap that scent around me like a blanket.
My cock twitches in interest. Not helpful right now.
"Needed some supplies." I hold up my list, keeping my voice casual even though my pulse is racing. "Heard you were working here. Welcome back."
"Thanks." The word comes out flat. She's waiting for the interrogation everyone else has probably subjected her to.
I don't give it to her.
Instead, I start shopping. Move through the aisles grabbing items, giving her space.
Coffee—the good kind, not the cheap stuff.
Bread. Eggs. A few frozen dinners because Milo's right, I do forget to eat.
But I'm hyperaware of her watching me, probably wondering when I'll start asking about Saturday.
I'm reaching for paper towels on the top shelf when her scent hits me again—stronger, wrapping around me as my awareness heightens. My hand fumbles and I nearly drop the entire roll on my head. Smooth, Brooks. Real smooth.
When I bring everything to the counter, she rings it up. Professional. Distant.
Up close, her scent is even better. That cinnamon-apple warmth wraps around me, and underneath it I catch something that makes my alpha growl with interest—the faint sweetness that means omega. My body responds before my brain catches up. Blood heading south. Breathing deeper without permission.
She notices. Her pupils dilate slightly when my scent shifts, sandalwood and cedar intensifying with arousal I can't quite hide.
For a moment we just stare at each other across the counter. Close enough that I could reach out and touch her hand. Close enough to see her pulse fluttering at her throat. The air between us feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
Her lips part slightly. My gaze drops to her mouth before I can stop myself.
Then she blinks and looks away, fingers fumbling with the register. "Busy morning?" she asks, voice slightly breathless.
I clear my throat, trying to sound normal. "The usual Monday rush. You?"
"Interesting." She doesn't look up, focused intently on scanning items. "Half the town's been in asking about supplies they clearly don't need."
"Ah. The excuse to gossip method."
"You know it well, apparently." Now she does look up, challenge in her eyes. "So what's your excuse?"
"Actually need supplies." I gesture to the items. "Been running the hardware store solo since Tyler's back in school full time. Sometimes it's easier to grab basics here."