Chapter 9
9
LILY
T he hot shower is exactly what I needed. Staring at myself in the mirror, where my skin is flushed pink from the heat, I take my time combing through my damp hair. The bathroom is impressive for a cabin—spacious, with high-end fixtures and the kind of water pressure my bakery building can only dream about. Hunter’s cousin must be organized, leaving everything from hair products to lotions neatly arranged on glass shelves. I’ve helped myself to some leave-in conditioner that smells like vanilla and almonds.
I debate putting my hair up before deciding against it. Something about being in a house full of Alphas makes me want to keep it down, like a curtain I can hide behind if needed. The borrowed clothes fit better than they should—soft gray leggings that hug my curves without being too tight and an oversized cream sweater that feels like being wrapped in a cloud. It falls off one shoulder slightly, exposing more skin than I’d usually show around Alphas.
The thick socks I found are ridiculous—covered in little foxes that make me smile despite everything. Definitely not what I’d expect to find in a cabin full of Alpha males. I wiggle my toes in them, wondering about the cousin who left them behind. What kind of woman spends enough time here to have her own wardrobe? More importantly, what kind of Alphas keep a fully stocked women’s bathroom, complete with fancy hair products and lotions?
“Get it together, Lily,” I mutter, leaning closer to the mirror. My cheeks are still pink from the shower’s heat, my eyes bright in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. I look... different. Softer without my usual practical clothes and flour-dusted apron. More vulnerable. “You’ve handled worse than being stuck in a cabin with two ridiculously attractive Alphas.” A pause. “Okay, maybe not worse. But different. Definitely different.”
I smooth some frizz from my hair, wishing I had my usual products. Hannah would know exactly what to do—my sister has always been the put-together one, while I’m usually more concerned with what’s in the oven than what’s in my closet. She’d be having a field day with this situation. It’s like every romance novel she’s ever tried to get me to read.
The thought of her makes my chest ache. She must be worried sick. I check my phone again—still no signal, my message stuck in digital limbo. “Sorry, sis,” I whisper to my reflection. “Guess you’ll have to handle the morning rush alone tomorrow.
“At least they’re not the big bad wolf type,” I mutter, then laugh at myself. Though, Archer in the kitchen earlier... the way he moved, the intensity in his eyes when he looked at me... Stop it, Lily. These are real, potentially dangerous men who just happen to have rescued you from a storm. A storm that’s still raging outside the window, turning the world white.
I dig the mace out of my wet clothes and slip it into the pocket of my borrowed leggings. Not that I really think I’ll need it—something about these men, about this place, feels safe. Maybe too safe. That’s what scares me most—not that they might hurt me, but that I might not want to leave.
Thor’s sitting exactly where I left him when I peek out the door, his tail thumping against the hardwood. “Still on guard duty?” I rub under his chin, and he leans into my touch with a contented grumble. “At least one male in this house is straightforward about his intentions.”
My stomach growls at the smell of something delicious and savory wafting up the stairs. Whatever Archer’s cooking, it smells divine. Thor’s ears perk up, and I laugh.
“Yeah, I’m hungry, too. Might as well face the music, right?” I take one last look in the mirror, adjusting the sweater. “What’s the worst that could happen?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Never tempt fate, Lily. Especially not when you’re already living in what feels like the setup to either a horror movie or an adult film. My skin crawls, but I shake it off. I’m not going to scare myself.
I hear the guys speaking as I approach the kitchen—deeper than before, a new voice in the mix. It sends something dangerous sliding down my spine. My heart stutters, but I force myself to call out, “Hello?” Better than lurking in doorways like some sort of creeper.
The conversation stops. I step into the kitchen and freeze, my breath catching in my throat.
Wait!
There’s a third Alpha now? And God, he’s... magnificent. That’s the only word for it. He’s perched casually on the counter, one leg dangling, the other bent at the knee. His dark copper hair is slightly messy, probably from the storm, and his storm-gray eyes fix on me with an intensity that sends my heart into a pounding race. He’s dressed simply—dark jeans and a charcoal Henley that does nothing to hide his broad shoulders. But there’s nothing simple about the way he carries himself, the quiet confidence that screams predator.
A burn scar traces up his left forearm, visible where he’s pushed up his sleeves.
Everything about him radiates controlled power, like a knife wrapped in silk. The kind of man my father always warned me about. The kind that makes all those warnings seem worth ignoring.
“This is James.” Hunter catches my hesitation. “He’s always here, like Archer. We practically grew up in this cabin.” He’s leaning against the fridge, beer in hand, completely at ease. The three of them look like a pack, I realize. A dangerous, beautiful pack that I’ve somehow stumbled into.
James?
My mind stutters on the name. Not my James—not the guy I’ve been messaging since way before Christmas, the one whose texts make me smile at my phone like an idiot. Then he vanished, and I discovered he might be in prison. Nope, that can’t be him. What are the chances? This has to be a coincidence. Yet something about him calls to me.
I never actually spoke to James, only messaged each other, so I can’t even say I’d recognize his voice. But this James... God, his tone alone could make me come apart at the seams if he whispered in my ear. Deep and rich, with just enough gravel to make my stomach flip.
I mentally shake myself. Control yourself. But it’s hard when I’m surrounded by three gorgeous men who radiate Alpha energy as though it’s their personal brand. And this isn’t that James anyway, so I need to chill.
“Welcome to the madhouse,” James says, and his voice is pure sin, leaving my skin tingling. He runs a hand through his hair, dislodging snow crystals. “Barely made it through the storm to get here. It’s the apocalypse out there.”
“Dramatic as always,” Hunter snorts, but there’s obvious affection in his tone. He moves to clap James on the shoulder. “She doesn’t need you scaring her with your apocalypse theories.”
“Hey, I calls it like I sees it.” James hops down from the counter with a grace that shouldn’t be possible for someone his size. He’s taller than the other two, practically built like a football player. “And what I see out there ain’t natural.”
“Nothing about this weather is natural,” Archer adds from the stove, where he’s stirring something that smells like heaven. “But that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now...” He tastes whatever’s in the pot and nods. “Dinner’s ready.”
The three of them together are fascinating to watch. Hunter grabs bowls while James snags the silverware, setting them on the counter all in one place. Archer’s swatting at both of them when they try to steal tastes of the food. It’s clear this is their space, their sanctuary. And I’m the intruder.
I lean against the counter, suddenly hyperaware of my position—alone in a remote cabin with three strange men. My rational mind whispers warnings, but my body betrays me with a current of electricity that zips through my veins whenever their gazes find mine.
“So, what brings you out in weather like this?” James asks. His attention locks onto me, and the intensity in them—a mixture of curiosity and something deeper—sends a ripple of sensation across my skin, like fingers trailing down my spine.
“Flour run,” I admit, aiming for casual while my pulse hammers wildly at the base of my throat. “For the bakery I run with my sister.”
“A baker, huh?” James’s mouth curves into a half-smile that awakens butterflies in my stomach. “In Whispering Grove?”
I tilt my head, surprise momentarily overriding the warmth spreading through my chest. “You know the town?”
“I get around,” he says vaguely, something guarded flickering behind his eyes. “Small towns have the best... stories.”
“And the best gossip,” Archer adds, sliding a steaming pan onto the table. “James is our resident mystery man. Gets twitchy if you ask too many personal questions.”
“Fuck that,” James protests, with an undercurrent of tension in his words.
“You absolutely do,” Hunter jumps in, a playful gleam in his eye. “Remember when that hiker asked where you were from, and you just stared at her until she backed away?”
“I was thinking!”
“Yeah, thinking about how to disappear into the woods,” Archer laughs.
My fingers fidget with the hem of my top as I watch them, my skin flushed and sensitive. I should be scared. I should be planning my exit strategy. Instead, I’m wondering what James’s stubbled jaw would feel like against my palm.
“So, Flour Girl,” Archer says, interrupting my thoughts. “What’s your poison? Wine? Beer? Something stronger to take the edge off being stranded with three strange men in the woods?”
“Archer!” Hunter smacks him with a dish towel. “Way to make it sound like we’re creeps.”
“Hey, for all she knows, we could be,” Archer winks at me. “But then we’d be terrible at it, feeding you first.”
A laugh bubbles up unexpectedly from my throat. The sound seems to please James, whose eyes soften as they hold mine.
“Earth to Lily,” Hunter’s remark breaks through the charged atmosphere. “You planning to eat standing up?”
I blink, realizing I’ve been lost. Archer’s ladling out what looks like heaven—chicken and vegetable stew, perfectly mashed potatoes, and garlic bread that makes my mouth water just looking at it. The guys are already moving toward the living room, bowls in hand.
“Coming,” I say, grabbing my own bowl. Thor follows at my heels as we settle on the couches around the crackling fire. The malamute plants himself at my feet, a furry guardian angel. Hunter is on an armchair, and James and Archer are on opposite ends of the large couch, leaving me the loveseat. Giving me space.
The first bite of stew makes me moan embarrassingly. “Oh my God.”
“Good?” Archer’s studying me with that intense gaze of his.
“I take back every doubtful thing I ever thought about your cooking skills.” I take another bite. “This is amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Self-preservation,” Hunter answers for him. “We were tired of protein shakes and granola bars.”
“Hey, some of us evolved past the hunt and grunt stage,” Archer shoots back.
“Barely,” James adds, and they all laugh.
The sound does something warm and dangerous to my insides. I’m fascinated by their dynamics. My gaze keeps drifting to all three of them as I keep eating.
“You okay?” Hunter asks softly. “You went somewhere else for a minute.”
“Just thinking about my sister,” I lie. “She’ll be worried.”
“The phones should work once the storm’s gone,” he assures me. “Speaking of entertainment...” He reaches for something, and suddenly, a screen is descending from the ceiling, a projector humming to life. “Movie?”
“Seriously?” I look around the rustic cabin with new eyes. “You have a hidden theater system?”
“Among other things,” Hunter says cryptically, staring at me, and my cheeks heat up instantly. “This place is full of surprises.”
“Show off,” James mutters, but he’s smiling.
“Just because you prefer your entertainment more... physical,” Hunter starts.
James throws a pillow at him with deadly accuracy.
“Children,” Archer sighs, but his eyes are amused. “More stew?”
I nod gratefully, and he takes my bowl. When he returns, his fingers brush mine as he hands it back, sending sparks up my arm. I catch James observing the interaction, something dark and hungry in his eyes.
We settle in to watch some action movie I barely register. The storm rages outside, but in here, it’s warm and comfortable. Almost too comfortable. James stretches out on his end of the couch, all graceful danger, and I keep staring at him. He reminds me so much of the James I used to text—the dry humor, the quiet intensity—but that James is gone, locked away somewhere for who knows what. I blocked his number the moment I found out, even though part of me wanted to hear his side. Wanted to believe there was more to the story.
“I should head up,” I say when the movie ends, standing perhaps too quickly. My head spins slightly, though whether from the fire’s heat or the company, I’m not sure.
“Sure you don’t want to stay for another?” Hunter asks. “I’ve got the entire Marvel collection.”
“Tempting, but...” I gesture vaguely upstairs. “Should probably get some rest. Thank you for dinner, Archer. And for...” I wave my hand around, encompassing everything. “All of this.”
“Our pleasure,” James says softly, and something in his tone leaves me shivering.
I practically run up the stairs, Thor following close behind. My back hits the locked door, and I slide down it, breathing hard. “Okay, calm down. Just until the storm passes. You can do this.”
But can I? With Hunter, who’s somehow turned this cabin into a haven, and maybe we’re related? I should have asked him, but in their presence, I forget my thoughts. Then there’s Archer, whose cooking and kindness defy everything I thought I knew about Alphas. And James... who can’t possibly be my James, but who makes my whole body hum with recognition?
Thor whines outside my door, a comforting sound. At least I have one ally in this madness.
“Stop it,” I tell myself firmly. “Stop staring. Stop flirting. Stop thinking about any of them as anything but Alphas, who are helping you out. Stop wondering if James is...” I press my hands to my heated cheeks. “Just stop.”
The storm howls louder, as if laughing at my predicament. And somewhere below, I hear their deep laughs—and my heart does a traitorous flip in my chest.
I am in so much trouble.