Chapter 8 #2
She blows me a kiss and disappears out the door, leaving me alone with Kai.
“Coffee,” he announces, standing up. “I need caffeine. Want anything else?”
I gesture at my mostly empty cup. “Another latte would be amazing. And…” I eye the display case. “Surprise me.”
His grin is blinding. “Challenge accepted.”
He heads to the counter, and I take the opportunity to compose myself. My pulse is still racing from his sudden appearance, and there’s that familiar warmth spreading through my chest that I’ve been trying very hard to ignore.
When he returns, it’s with Kitty trailing behind him, both of them carrying enough food for a small army.
“One latte,” Kitty announces with a sly grin, setting a fresh cup in front of me. “And…”
Kai slides into Hazel’s vacated seat as Kitty unloads the tray: two Portuguese tarts, a slice of chocolate torte, a fruit tart, something that looks like a cream puff, a cinnamon roll the size of my fist, and what appears to be half the croissant selection.
“Enjoy, you two,” she says, and we both thank her, then I turn to Kai.
“You planning to feed everyone in town?” I ask.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like.” He’s already reaching for a Portuguese tart. “So I got a bit of everything. We can try them together, rate them, and then I’ll know your favorites for next time.”
Something flutters in my chest. “Next time?”
“There’s always a next time with you.” He takes a bite, making a sound of pure appreciation. “Oh, that’s incredible. Try this.”
We work our way through the pastries, rating each one. The torte is an eight. The fruit tart is a seven. The cream puff is a nine and a half. The Portuguese tart is a solid nine.
Somewhere along the way, his foot finds mine under the table. Not accidental—deliberate. His boot pressing against my ankle, sliding up to my calf, then back down. A constant point of contact that sends sparks up my leg.
I try to focus on the cinnamon roll. Try to focus on anything except the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, or the way his fingers brush mine when he hands me a fork, or the way he’s looking at me like I’m more interesting than any pastry could ever be.
My phone rings.
“Sorry,” I say, checking the screen. “It’s the plumber.”
“Take it.”
I answer, and my morning gets significantly worse.
“Miss, I’ve got some news.” The plumber, Eric, sounds apologetic. “We found the source. Bad news is, it’s been leaking longer than we thought. There’s significant water damage to the subfloor, and we found mold in the walls.”
“Mold. Of course there’s mold.”
“And before we can do repairs, we need to test for asbestos, as the house is old enough that it might have some in the insulation.”
I close my eyes. “What does that mean for the timeline?”
“Minimum two weeks. Probably closer to three.”
“Damn, three weeks.”
“I’d recommend finding somewhere else to stay. Between the gutted downstairs, the draft, and the mold… it’s not safe, not to mention it’s illegal to stay here, seeing as we found mold.”
“Right.” I rub my temple.
“Insurance should cover alternative accommodation.”
“There is no alternative accommodation. I booked every spare room in town for the rodeo tourists.”
Eric is quiet. “That’s… unfortunate. I’ll send you a quote for insurance and rush those asbestos tests. But you really shouldn’t stay there.”
“Understood. Thanks, Eric.”
I hang up and sigh.
“Everything okay?” Kai asks, concern replacing his playful expression.
“The opposite of okay.” I reach for another croissant, because if I’m having a crisis, I might as well have pastry.
“Mold. Asbestos testing. Three weeks before I can move back in. And I have nowhere to stay because I was too good at my job and booked out every rental in town. I mean, my office has a couch. It’s terrible, but—”
The café door opens, and Seth strides in, drawing everyone’s attention.
He’s still slightly flushed from whatever he was loading, those blue eyes scanning the room until they land on our table. Something shifts in his expression when he spots me.
He orders at the counter, then makes his way over, sliding into the seat beside Kai.
“Morning,” he says. His voice is low.
“Morning.”
“What’s going on? You look stressed.”
I give him the abbreviated version of recent events.
“Easy, you move in with us,” Kai says immediately.
I stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“The ranch has plenty of space.” He stares at Seth. “Right?”
“More than enough.” Seth’s gaze hasn’t left my face. “Your own room and bathroom.”
“I can’t just move in with you guys.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” I struggle for a reason that doesn’t sound insane. “Because we barely know each other and it would be weird, and—”
“Look,” Seth cuts in, his voice quiet but firm. “You did me a favor. A big one. You stood up for me when you didn’t have to. Let me return it.”
I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out.
“Just until your house is fixed. We’ve got the space, you need a place to stay, and honestly?” Kai grins. “We’d love the company.”
I think about my options. The office couch that will destroy my back. Begging friends for rooms they don’t have. Sleeping in my car.
And then I think about waking up in a ranch house with three Alphas whose scents make my carefully suppressed instincts go haywire.
This is a terrible idea.
My phone buzzes. Pete again: Please call me back.
The universe is really not being subtle today.
“Fine,” I hear myself say. “Okay. I’ll stay with you.”
Kai’s face transforms with genuine excitement. “Yeah?”
“But just until my house is fixed. And I’m not going to be a burden.”
Kai is already standing, practically vibrating with energy. “I’m going to get your room ready. Make sure it’s perfect. You need anything specific? Extra pillows? Blackout curtains?”
“Something small and simple. It won’t be for long.”
“Right.” He grabs a few pastries for the road. “See you later.” He’s gone before I can respond, leaving me alone with Seth.
The silence stretches between us. Not uncomfortable—just weighted.
“So,” Seth says finally. “Pete called you about the chaperone thing.”
“So you know about it?” I sigh.
His jaw tightens. “My father wants someone to keep us out of trouble. Like we’re children who can’t control ourselves.”
“To be fair, you did get arrested.”
“Yeah, the jury’s still out on that.”
“I know.” I meet his eyes.
Something shifts in his expression.
“What actually happened that night? At the Spur? You keep saying you weren’t drinking, but you were acting like…”
“Like I was wasted.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to figure it out. Last thing I remember clearly is ordering a cola. Place was packed, people everywhere, guys wanting to shake my hand, women trying to sit in my lap. Then nothing.”
“Someone might have drugged you.”
“That’s what I think. And when I find out who, they’re going to regret it. And I’m going to clear my name.”
I think about that night. The way he could barely stand. The singing. “I believe you,” I tell him.
Something in his expression softens. “Yeah?”
“You were definitely out of it, but not drunk-drunk. It was different. Like something had hijacked your system.”
“That’s exactly what it felt like.” He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. Just a touch. Just a moment of contact. “Thank you for believing me.”
Then he tilts his head, gaze cutting over my face. “You’re nervous.”
“I’m not.”
He gives a short, amused exhale. “You are. But it’s not about what I’m saying.”
Heat crawls up my neck because he’s right and he knows it.
I can smell him every time he shifts, clean and warm, with a sharpness underneath that calls to me. I shouldn’t be thinking about it or noticing how his scent changes when he’s amused.
If I end up living with them, it’s going to be everywhere. In the halls. On the furniture. In my sheets if I’m not careful. And my control isn’t made for that.
Seth’s mouth twitches like he can read the direction of my thoughts. “You keep doing that.”
“What’s that?” I ask, too fast.
“Looking at me like you’re trying to decide if I’m going to bite.” His gaze glides down, slowly, to my mouth and back up. “I might. Depends how you behave.”
My breath catches, traitorous. “Is that a threat?”
His smile sharpens. “That’s a promise I haven’t decided to keep yet.”
I swallow.
“Mm.” He leans forward just a little, forearms on the table, closing the distance without touching me.
My fingers tighten around my cup.
His gaze holds mine, intent and almost lazy. “You’re right about one thing. If somebody did that to me, if somebody messed with my head…” His voice dips, and the fun drains out of it. “I’m not letting it go.”
The shift in him is sudden. Not louder. Just… colder. Controlled. Like there’s a line inside him and once you cross it, you don’t get to walk back.
I force myself to breathe. “So, what now?”
Seth’s attention flicks to my hand on the cup, then back to my eyes. “Now I find out who.” A beat passes. “And you stop looking like you’re going to bolt every time a man looks at you like he wants you.”
I give a little laugh. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“No,” he agrees easily. “I get to tell you what I’m going to do.” His voice turns soft again, dangerous in a different way.
He reaches across the table then, not grabbing, not trapping. Just a deliberate brush of his knuckles against my fingers, like he’s testing the edge of my restraint.
The touch is brief. But it lights me up like a match. My pulse jumps. My skin tightens. And I hate how badly I crave more.
Seth’s gaze moves to my throat. His mouth curves, satisfied.
My chest tightens, a sharp ache of truth I don’t want to give him.
He watches me, then lets his smile turn slow. “Living with us,” he adds, like he’s testing the words on my reaction, “is going to be… nice.”
My breath catches.
His phone buzzes on the table. Seth glances down, and the shift is subtle but immediate, the heat in his eyes tightening into focus. His brows draw together as he reads whatever popped up on the screen.
He exhales once, then stares back at me. “I gotta go.”
Disappointment flares through me before I can hide it.
He stands, but before he moves away, he leans in just enough that his voice hits my ear like a promise. “See you later.” His gaze holds mine. “At our place.”
I watch him walk away, heart thudding, and all I can think is, Am I really doing this?