Chapter 10
Ford
The Rusty Bucket’s quieter than usual tonight. The kind of quiet where you can hear the low murmur of conversation from across the room, the clink of glass, and the hum of the jukebox struggling to find its rhythm.
I don’t make a habit of coming here, especially not on a night like this. But Lo’s ghost has been hanging on me all day.
The way she stormed off after the accident with the toolbox, the sharpness of her words, the heat of that moment when she looked at me, her peachy scent flowing behind her… it’s all been nagging at me.
And I’ve got nowhere else to be, so here I am.
Beau Talcot, the town’s best Beta accountant, is at the bar, nursing something that probably qualifies as too much whiskey for a weekday, but who’s counting?
“Ford? That you?” he mutters when I slide onto the stool next to him.
His voice is scratchy. I guess he’s been here a while, probably running from whatever shit’s on his mind, too.
“Yeah. On a weekday. Not good, right?” I say, leaning in to grab the drink that’s already been delivered to me.
I take a long sip. It burns down my throat, and for a second, it’s doing some good. Drowning out that gnawing feeling. The tug in my chest at the fire that crossed Lo’s face. She’s still in there, the Omega I followed around from the shadows in high school like a stalker.
Her scent beats beneath my skin like a second heartbeat.
Beau shrugs. He’s got that quiet look on his face, the one that means he’s read the situation already and he’s waiting for me to say something.
I don’t. Instead, I take another sip, and that’s when I see her.
Lo.
She’s sitting in the corner of the room, tucked into a booth with Tansy. It shouldn’t shock me. Those two were thick as thieves back in high school. Her head’s down, eyes on the table. She’s trying to disappear into the worn leather seat.
Shit.
That pull between us tugs against my chest, as if trying to draw me out of my seat. As if my body is protesting the very distance I swore I’d keep between the two of us when I found out she was back in town.
I keep my gaze on her for a moment longer than I should, but she doesn’t notice me yet. Hell, maybe she’s not even looking for anyone. Just… existing with the one person in this town that doesn’t judge her for what happened.
Well, one of them, anyway.
I don’t judge her for what happened.
“Guess the rumors are true,” Beau says, looking over his glass at me.
I don’t need him to say it. I already know. Lo Marsh is back. She’s a walking ghost in a town full of whispers, and a pain I thought I’d gotten used to. Blah blah blah.
I hate town gossip.
“Yeah,” I mutter, taking another pull of my drink. “Guess so.”
Beau drones on, rattling off the latest small-town drama from Winterfest as if it’s the most important thing in the world.
I half-listen, not really taking it in, just enough to keep the conversation going without having to acknowledge what’s really on my mind.
“Did you catch the fireworks display last night? Thought the whole damn town was gonna go up in flames. You’d think they’d have learned by now…
half the fireworks were duds. And who shoots off purple and yellow fireworks this close to Christmas?
Worst show I’ve seen in years,” Beau mutters, slurring the words just a little as he fiddles with his drink.
I take another long sip, forcing myself to focus on him rather than on the storm brewing in my chest. “Guess they didn’t check the fuse before lighting ’em up, huh? Probably bought them on sale.”
Beau snorts, then leans in, lowering his voice as if he’s about to reveal some deep, dark secret.
“Hell, it wasn’t just the fireworks. Word is, the whole thing almost went to hell when the damn float holding Sylvia Hammond’s little dog broke down right in the middle of the parade route.
People were losing their minds, running all over like chickens with their heads cut off.
But of course, the crash is the most dramatic thing that’s happened. ”
My stomach aches. The world freezes, just for a second. I can feel it. Lo. The way she makes everyone pay attention to her, even when she doesn’t mean to.
“Don’t know what kind of mess that Marsh girl is in this time,” Beau mutters, setting his glass down with a clink. “But people are talkin’. Town’s already got its claws out. You’d think she was the one who lit the fireworks wrong.”
I glance up, my eyes locking on her almost instinctively.
Lo’s standing now, scanning the room as if searching for someone. She doesn’t see me yet, but I know she will. That pull between us, damn thing’s too strong to ignore.
I don’t know how she ignored it in high school.
As she moves, so does Beau. He mutters something about the bathroom, but I’m sure he somehow senses the eruption about to happen.
Her head swivels around, eyes moving past me, and she might walk right by without even noticing I’m here. I almost believe it—until she stops.
And her gaze snaps directly to mine.
For the first few seconds, it’s like the whole damn room goes silent. The chatter, the clinking glasses, even the hum of the jukebox seems to fade as her sharp eyes lock onto mine. Her nostrils flare, and mine respond in kind, desperate to get even the smallest whiff of her.
I could never forget how she smells: peach cobbler with extra brown sugar crusted on top.
Her posture stiffens, as if she can sense how pathetic I am, and her lips part as if she’s about to say something. But then her face tightens into an expression I know all too well.
I can feel her anger rising, even from across the bar. The way it starts low and slow, curling in the pit of her stomach before it’s ready to boil over. I can already smell the twinge of smoke that comes with her righteous anger.
It was how I knew something was up with her family before she ever broke the news to the town. She walked around in that smoky haze for days before the town hall meeting.
I’m so lost in trying to keep myself planted on the bar stool that I don’t realize she’s moving toward me.
But the moment Lo reaches the bar, her eyes flare with irritation.
She doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.
And for a second, it seems she’s about to unleash everything she’s been holding back.
It’s magnetic, that anger of hers. The fire in her soul pushes through the darkness of my own. The pull between us sharpens, twisting the air thick, too heavy to breathe or ignore.
Her scent hits me again, hot peach cobbler, that familiar mix I’ve never quite been able to shake.
My mouth waters, and I have to swallow down a growl.
Have to keep myself from staring at the expanse of her neck.
And, damn it, her scent is everywhere, settling in my bones and making every inch of me react before I can even think about it.
Every time she’s in my orbit, her gravitational pull can’t be resisted.
But I don’t move. Can’t move.
Even though I should get up and walk away.
She steps closer and I hold my ground, trying not to let her draw me in any more than she already has. Even sitting on the stool, I tower above her, and what I wouldn’t give to pin her beneath me and sink my teeth into what’s mine. What has always been mine.
Her anger’s the kind that demands attention, and I don’t want to look away. Even though I need to.
“You again,” she spits, dripping with venom. It makes the words hit harder, faster. “Are you following me now?”
I bite back the urge to snap. I should snap. But something tells me this isn’t the time for it.
“It’s the town bar, Lo,” I say, trying to stay calm. “You aren’t the only one who lives here.”
She doesn’t even blink. The space between us shrinks, thickens. Tension coils around us tighter than a noose, until she leans in, her breath hot against my ear.
My heart slams against my chest, my Alpha instincts flaring to life, desperate to close the gap. Desperate to reach my hand out toward her hip and pull her so close that she can feel what she does to me, my hardened groin pressed against the smooth planes of her body.
The pull between us is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. Every nerve in my body lights up, begging for me to claim what’s mine, to take control, to pull her in deeper, but I force myself to hold still.
I draw in a breath to steady myself, but it’s a mistake. Her scent pours down the back of my throat, and the Alpha inside of me almost wins. Almost, anyway. I’m not going to act on anything. Not here, not now.
But damn it, her proximity, her scent, that peaches and sunlight smell that’s been burned into me since the first time I laid eyes on her, it’s making it hard to breathe.
“I can’t believe you,” she hisses at me. “You’ve got some nerve, Ford. After what you did to me earlier, dropping that damn toolbox on me?”
My breath catches. The memory of that moment, the way the toolbox slipped from my hands hits me like a punch to the gut.
It wasn’t just the accident. It was everything that came after.
Her pain. The look on her face.
I had hurt her.
My Omega.
“I told you, it was an accident,” I growl, but even to my own ears, the words sound weak.
Her eyes burn into me, daring me to say something else. “An accident?” she repeats, her voice rising. “Yeah, right. You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know when someone’s doing it on purpose? You hate me, right? This whole town does.”
“You think I wanted to hurt you?” I snap, my jaw clenched so tight it hurts. My Alpha pride is wounded. I would never. “You think I was just sitting there, waiting for you to walk in so I could mess things up for you? Lo, you don’t get it. I didn’t—”
“No,” she cuts me off, sharp as a knife, our faces mere inches apart. “You can’t get it. You never could, and you never will.”
I feel my chest ache. The truth of her words stings more than I want to admit. “What do you want me to do, Lo? You want me to fix everything? To fix you?”