Chapter 7 #2
"That thing where you're lying and you know you're lying but you're still gonna lie about it anyway." He starts backing away toward his truck. "Oh, and I'm looking at properties. Thinking about getting my own place."
I blink. "Really?"
"Yeah. Time to give you and Mom some space." He grins. "Though with the way you keep attracting alphas, maybe you'll need the extra bedroom for pack sleepovers—"
"GET OUT OF HERE!"
"Love you too, sis! See you later, River!" He calls through the door.
I stand there on the sidewalk, face burning, as he drives off laughing.
When I walk back inside, River's trying very hard not to smile.
"Don't," I warn him.
"I didn't say anything."
"You're thinking it."
"I'm just thinking your brother is very..." He pauses, clearly searching for a diplomatic word.
"Annoying? Obnoxious? A pain in my ass?"
"Entertaining." River grins. "But those work too."
I groan and sink against the counter. "I'm sorry about that. He thinks he's hilarious."
"He kind of is." River's eyes are warm. "For what it's worth, he clearly cares about you. That's a good thing."
"He's been unbearable since I moved back home. Always in my business, always teasing." I pause, a wicked grin forming. "Though I should tell you something. Ben still sleeps with a nightlight. Has since he was a kid. Afraid of the dark."
River's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"
"No." I laugh. "But this is a small town. One word from me and by tomorrow, he'll be known as the alpha who sleeps with a nightlight."
River laughs. "That's cold."
"That's what he gets for embarrassing me." I push off the counter, feeling lighter. "Come on. Let's grab lunch from next door, then tackle the social media stuff."
Twenty minutes later, sandwiches consumed, we're back in the break room. River tells me about his parents retiring to Arizona last year, leaving him the family hardware store. About the weight of keeping the Brooks name going while also modernizing everything.
"My dad thought social media was for kids and celebrities," River says, shaking his head. "Refused to even get a Facebook page. Said if people needed hardware, they'd come in."
"And now you're trying to drag a hardware store into the twenty-first century?"
"Something like that." He pulls out his phone. "I've got accounts set up, but no idea what to post. Help me, Bea Wilson. You're my only hope."
I laugh. "Okay, never quote Star Wars at me unless you're prepared for a trilogy debate."
"Noted."
"You need personality. Behind-the-scenes stuff." An idea strikes me. "Actually, we should take some photos now. Show people there's a real person running this place."
River looks uncomfortable. "I'm not really a 'photo' person."
"You don't have to be a model. Just be yourself." I stand. "Though you might want to roll up your sleeves."
"Why?"
"Trust me. Hardware store plus arm porn? That's marketing gold."
His ears go red. "Arm porn?"
"Just trust me." I'm already opening his phone camera, definitely not thinking about earlier when I wanted to trace those muscles with my tongue. "This is pure strategy."
"Uh-huh." But he's smiling as he rolls up his sleeves, revealing forearms that are—objectively speaking—very nice.
I am being professional. Totally professional.
Even if my mouth goes dry.
"Okay, stand by those power tools." I gesture to the display near the front windows. "Look like you know what you're doing."
"I do know what I'm doing."
"Then show it."
I snap photos as he works—organizing lumber, mixing paint, helping an imaginary customer. He's awkward at first but gradually relaxes. Starts joking around.
"This what you wanted?" He's laughing now, flexing dramatically with a hammer.
"Oh yeah, that's perfect. Really sell the 'I lift heavy things' vibe." I'm laughing too, snapping the shot anyway. "The thirst comments will be incredible."
His face goes even redder. "Thirst comments?"
"Welcome to social media marketing, Brooks." I grin. "Now actually swing that hammer. Pretend you're fixing something."
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"I'm a professional doing professional work." I circle him with the phone. "Now look competent and hot—I mean, helpful. Competent and helpful."
I move closer to adjust his position, and that's my mistake.
My hand lands on his arm, and—
His skin is warm. The muscles underneath shift at my touch. His scent hits me full force—pine and sawdust and alpha musk that makes my omega go liquid.
My hand lingers. Long enough to feel his pulse jump. Long enough for his eyes to meet mine.
The moment stretches.
His pupils are dilated. His scent is changing, getting heavier with arousal. He's looking at me like he wants to devour me.
"Bea," he says, voice rough.
I'm still touching him. Standing so close I can feel his body heat. All he'd have to do is lean down—
Movement outside the window catches my eye.
I glance over, and there's Grayson walking down the street. Dark jeans, leather jacket, tattoos visible even from here. The afternoon sun catches the ink, making it stand out stark and beautiful against his skin.
As if sensing my gaze, he stops. Turns. Looks directly at the window.
Directly at me.
Even from this distance, I feel it—that pull. His mouth curves into a slow smile, and he raises his hand in a small wave.
My body responds like he just touched me. Heat floods through me, settling between my thighs with embarrassing intensity.
I drop my hand from River's arm like I've been burned.
"Sorry, I—" I step back, creating space. "Got distracted."
River follows my gaze out the window. Grayson's still there, still watching, before he finally continues down the street.
"The tattoo artist," River says, and there's something in his voice I can't quite read. "Maeve mentioned you two had dinner."
Of course Maeve did. Town gossip central.
"It wasn't—we just ate food. That's it."
"Okay." He runs a hand through his hair, and I catch the tension in his shoulders. "Look, I should probably say something before this gets awkward."
Oh no. Here it comes. The "you're a great employee but" speech.
"I'm attracted to you," he says simply. "Have been since the festival. Milo told me not to rush this, to give you space, but... you're my employee, and you just moved back, and you've clearly got a lot going on. So I'm not going to make this weird. I just wanted to be honest."
My throat is tight. Of all the things I expected him to say, that brutal honesty wasn't it.
"I—"
"You don't have to say anything." He gives me a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm just letting you know where I stand. No pressure. No expectations. You're great at this job, and I don't want things to be uncomfortable."
"They're not," I manage. "Uncomfortable, I mean."
"Good." He glances at the clock. "It's almost closing time anyway. Why don't you head out? I can finish up here."
It feels like a dismissal, even though his tone is gentle. Like he's giving me space to process, or maybe giving himself space to deal with whatever he just saw in my reaction to Grayson.
"River—"
"See you tomorrow, Bea."
There's nothing else to say. I grab my coat and bag, and leave.