Chapter 16 Bea #2
River stands on the porch in dark jeans and a navy button-down that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad.
Seth's beside him in khakis and a light blue sweater that matches his eyes, looking nervous but determined.
And Grayson—Grayson's in all black with a leather jacket, his tattoos visible on his hands and neck, and I temporarily forget how to breathe.
All three of them are holding flowers.
The mingled scent of all three hits me even from here—River's warm cedar and clean pine, Seth's soap and something sweeter like honey, Grayson's ink and leather with that darker spice I remember from yesterday.
My body responds before my brain catches up, my own cinnamon-apple scent flaring sweet and interested.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This is REAL. This is actually happening.
"Mr. Wilson, Mr. Wilson, and Mrs. Wilson," River says warmly, offering a bouquet to my mom. "These are for you. Thank you for trusting us with Bea this evening."
"Oh my," Mom takes the flowers—a beautiful arrangement with honeysuckle and fresh greenery that I immediately recognize as Sadie's work. "That's very thoughtful. These are lovely—from Meadow's End?"
"Yes ma'am," River confirms with a smile. "Sadie says hello, by the way. She was very excited when we told her what they were for."
Seth steps forward next, also presenting flowers. "It's nice to see you again, ma'am. Sir." He nods to both my fathers, his ears slightly pink but his voice steady.
Grayson is last, and I notice his bouquet is different—dark red roses mixed with something that looks artistic and deliberate, also unmistakably Sadie's elegant style. "Thank you,” he says politely, handing the flowers to Papa. "We appreciate you allowing us to take Bea out."
"Well," Papa says, clearly trying not to smile. "At least they have manners."
"No," I say from the stairs. "Nope. We're not doing this. We're going to be late—"
"Bea, don't be rude," Mom scolds, but she's fighting a smile as she admires the flowers.
"Please," I beg the guys. "Can we just go? Don't encourage them—"
"Come in, come in," Dad says, ignoring me completely and opening the door wider. "We'd love to get to know you all a bit better."
"We have a reservation!" I protest.
River spots me and his whole face lights up. "Hey, Bea. You look beautiful." His scent deepens, going warmer, richer—an alpha's instinctive response to seeing something he wants.
"Really beautiful," Seth adds, his ears going pink but his pupils dilating as he takes me in.
Grayson just looks at me for a long moment, his dark eyes intense, his jaw tight like he's physically restraining himself. "Stunning." His voice is rougher than usual, and I catch the spike in his scent—that darker spice going almost smoky with want.
Heat floods my cheeks, and my scent spikes—cinnamon and apple going thick and sweet with pleasure. I can't help the way my body responds to their attention, the way something in me preens under their combined gazes.
This is exactly what I’m not supposed to want. I’m supposed to be focused on your career, on myself, not melting because three attractive alphas think I look nice.
But I am melting. And I do want this. Even when I know I shouldn't.
"You guys didn't have to bring flowers for my parents," I manage to say.
"Of course we did," River says like it's obvious. "We're picking up their daughter."
"It's what you do," Seth agrees.
Mom is already putting the flowers in vases, looking far too pleased with this development. "So," she says brightly. "Tell us about yourselves. How did you all meet—"
I give my parents the most intense warning look I can manage. Don't you dare.
Grayson catches my expression and smirks, clearly amused.
"Actually," River says smoothly, "we should probably get going. Don't want to lose our reservation."
"Of course, of course," Mom says, but she's beaming. "You boys have a wonderful time."
"And take care of our girl," Papa adds, the protective alpha edge showing through.
"Always," Grayson says quietly, and something in his tone makes my parents exchange pleased looks.
"Okay, we're leaving now!" I announce, grabbing my jacket. "Before anyone brings out baby photos or yearbooks—"
"Oh, the yearbook!" Dad lights up. "With the purple gel pen—"
"NOPE. We're going. Bye!" I practically shove the guys toward the door.
"It was lovely to meet you all!" Seth calls back, ever polite even as I'm herding them out.
"Bring her home safe!" Mom calls.
"Not too late!" Papa adds.
"Or too early!" Dad finishes with a laugh.
I get the guys out onto the porch and close the door behind us, leaning against it with relief. "I am so sorry about them."
"Don't be," River says, grinning. "They're great."
"Your dad's funny," Seth adds.
"And they clearly love you," Grayson observes. "That's nice to see."
I glance back through the window. All four of my family members are indeed pressed against the glass, watching us.
"They have no shame," I mutter, but I'm smiling as I wave. They all wave back enthusiastically.
River's truck is parked at the curb. He opens the passenger door with a small bow. "Your chariot awaits."
The three of them do some complicated shuffling to figure out seating arrangements—it's almost choreographed, the way they wordlessly communicate.
Seth gestures to the front seat, River shakes his head and points to the back, Grayson raises an eyebrow at both of them.
Finally, River's driving, Seth's in the passenger seat, and Grayson and I are in the back.
I notice they didn't ask me where I wanted to sit. They just... figured it out. Like they've been doing this for years instead of weeks.
"This okay?" Grayson asks quietly as River pulls away from the curb.
"This is fine." I'm hyperaware of his presence beside me, the subtle scent of ink and leather and that spice that makes my stomach flip. "Really."
His hand slides into mine, warm and solid, and I stop breathing for a second. His thumb traces slow circles on my palm—such a small gesture, but it feels more intimate than it should. Like a promise of more.
"Good," he murmurs, and doesn't let go.
I’m not fine. Nothing about this is fine. I’m in a truck with three alphas on my way to a formal courting dinner in Pine Valley where the entire town will see me and know exactly what this means.
But Grayson's thumb is still tracing those maddening circles, and I can feel his pulse in his wrist, steady and strong.
The truck cab is small enough that I'm surrounded by their combined scents—cedarwood and honey and leather-ink-spice all mixing together in a way that makes me want to curl up and never leave.
The drive to Pine Valley takes about forty minutes, and the guys fill the time with easy conversation about their days.
River had a delivery mishap involving a confused customer and six gallons of the wrong color paint.
Seth broke up a dispute between Mrs. Henderson and Mr. Kowalski about parking spaces—again.
Grayson finished a massive back piece on a client who cried when she saw it.
I try to participate, but I'm distracted by Grayson's thumb still drawing patterns on my palm, by the way Seth keeps glancing back at me with soft eyes, by how River's gaze finds mine in the rearview mirror every few minutes like he needs to check I'm still there.
The enclosed space makes everything more intense—their scents, their presence, the weight of what tonight means.
This is really happening. I'm doing this. Going on a pack date. And the terrifying part? I want it. Despite every voice in my head telling me to slow down, to think, to protect myself—I want this.
I relax incrementally with each story, reminded that these are just... guys. Really attractive, incredibly sweet guys who happen to want to date me. Together. As a pack.
And who I'm terrified I might actually want back.
Pine Valley's main street is lit with twinkle lights, and Bella Notte sits on the corner with the smell of garlic bread strong enough to make my mouth water from the parking lot.
"Ready?" River asks, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
No. Not even a little bit.
But Grayson's thumb is still tracing those lazy circles on my palm, grounding me. Seth glances back with that encouraging smile, the one that says he believes in me even when I don't believe in myself. River's eyes in the mirror are warm and patient, waiting for my answer without rushing me.
And I realize... maybe I am ready. Not for everything. Not to have all the answers or know how this ends.
But ready for this. For tonight. For them.
I squeeze Grayson's hand and take a breath that feels like stepping off a cliff.
"Ready."