Chapter 24
24
LILY
I close my eyes in the hot shower, savoring the sensation of Archer’s hands gliding over my skin, his touch possessive as he works shampoo through my curls.
“Is it strange that I feel human again?” I murmur, leaning back against his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart ground me.
His laughter rumbles through me, his arms tightening around my waist. “We’ll have to keep going at it for another week or two, to be sure. For research purposes, of course. I’m very scientific about these things.”
“Two weeks?” I turn in his arms, water streaming between us, and smack his chest playfully. His skin is warm and slick under my palm, muscles firm beneath my fingertips. “My sister will go absolutely insane with no help at the bakery.”
“Hire a helper,” he suggests. His gaze darkens as it travels down my body with deliberate slowness. “You can’t help your heat. It’s inescapable. Demanding.” His voice drops on the last word.
I shiver despite the steam rising around us, heat pooling low in my belly. “My heat’s almost over, I think. I feel... different. Better.”
“Hmm,” he hums, tilting his head as if considering a complex problem. “Still sounds like we need to be sure and not stop.” His hands slide up my sides, thumbs brushing my breasts with feather-light pressure that makes me gasp.
“Do you think the guys are okay?” I ask, trying desperately to focus despite his wandering hands. “They’ve been gone for hours now.”
Something softens in Archer’s expression, though his hands don’t stop their maddening exploration.
“I actually called Hunter on the radio when you first got in the shower. Phone lines are back. He said they’re all good—mission accomplished, map retrieved. If something was wrong, he’d tell me straight.”
“You’re sure?” I press, worry still gnawing at me despite his reassurance. My mind wanders to needing to call my sister if reception is back.
“Positive,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Hunter doesn’t sugarcoat. If they were in trouble, he’d say so.” He reaches for the body wash, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. “Now, turn around. I’m not done with you yet.”
I obey, presenting my back to him. His hands work in slow, purposeful patterns, massaging the lavender-scented soap into my shoulders, down my spine, over the curve of my hips. Each touch feels like a promise, like he’s learning me by heart.
“What do you want to do when you grow up?” he asks suddenly, his breath teasing my ear.
I snort with surprised laughter. “Excuse me?”
“You know,” he elaborates, fingers kneading the tension from my shoulders. “When you’re all grown up. What’s the dream?”
“I’m twenty-four,” I remind him, leaning back into his touch. “I’m already grown.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my back. “I’m thirty, so I need to grow up quickly if I haven’t already.”
“Oh, six years older than me,” I tease, turning to face him again. “Cradle snatcher.”
“That would be James at thirty-two,” he counters with a grin. “Or Hunter at thirty-four. I’m practically a baby compared to them.”
“Wow, big age difference,” I say, though truthfully, it hadn’t even occurred to me until now. “Yet I don’t feel any different when I’m with any of you. I’m just... smitten by everything you are.”
Something flashes in his eyes—pleasure, surprise, hope. “Does age matter?” he asks, more serious now.
“Not to me,” I admit, though a fleeting thought of Hannah’s inevitable commentary crosses my mind. My sister will definitely have something to say about me falling for three men, all significantly older. But at this moment, with warm water streaming over us and Archer’s hands tracing constellations on my skin, I can’t bring myself to care.
“Well, I’m working on opening up a bookshop,” he explains, returning to his original question. “Something small but special. First editions, rare finds, comfortable chairs where people can sit for hours, getting lost in stories.” His hands move to my hair, gently rinsing out the shampoo. “What about you? Always going to be a baker?”
“I love baking,” I say, closing my eyes as his fingers massage my scalp. “But eventually, I’d like to write a cookbook. Maybe focus on heritage recipes, the kind passed down through generations. My grandmother and mother have dozens that deserve to be preserved.”
“I’d buy that cookbook,” he murmurs, lips finding the sensitive spot just below my ear. “I’d buy anything you created.”
His mouth travels down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I tilt my head, giving him better access, as my hands slide up his chest to anchor in his hair. The water beats down around us, creating a cocoon of warmth and steam that feels separate from the world beyond the shower wall.
“Archer,” I breathe, his name a question and a plea all at once.
He answers by capturing my mouth with his, the kiss deep and consuming. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance I eagerly grant. We fit together perfectly, bodies aligning as if designed for each other. His hands cup my face.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless, dizzy with desire. “We should probably actually get clean at some point,” I suggest weakly.
“Probably,” he agrees but makes no move to separate from me, instead pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone. “Eventually.”
“Seriously,” I laugh, pushing against his chest. “The hot water won’t last forever.”
With obvious reluctance, he reaches behind me to turn off the water. “You’re right. We have plenty of time for... further research.”
He grabs two fluffy towels from the nearby rack, wrapping one around my shoulders before securing the other at his waist. I move to dry myself, but he stops me with a gentle hand on my wrist.
“Let me,” he insists, his voice soft but brooking no argument.
I stand still as he uses the towel to pat my skin dry with meticulous care, starting with my shoulders and working his way down. There’s something intimate about the gesture, about allowing someone else this level of care. It’s not sexual, exactly, though my body certainly responds to his touch—it’s something deeper, more significant.
I giggle helplessly as he kneels to dry my legs, his touch ticklish against the sensitive spot behind my knee. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being thorough,” he corrects, looking up at me with a grin that makes my heart flip. “And you’re beautiful. Every inch of you deserves attention.”
By the time he’s finished, I’m blushing furiously, though not from embarrassment. No one has ever made me feel this way—like I’m precious, like I’m worth this kind of devotion.
Finally dry, we move to his bedroom to dress. I watch, unabashedly appreciative, as he pulls on a pair of worn jeans that hug his lean hips perfectly, followed by a blue-and-green checked flannel shirt that makes his amber eyes appear even more golden in contrast. With his damp hair falling across his forehead and the beginnings of stubble darkening his jaw, he looks like every fantasy I never knew I had.
“I need to grab some clothes,” I say reluctantly, wrapping the towel more securely around myself.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he replies with a wickedly slow smile, leaning against the dresser to watch me go. “The view as you leave is almost as good as the view when you stay.”
“You’re incorrigible,” I accuse but smile, nonetheless.
I dart across the hallway to the guest room I’ve been using, Thor appearing from nowhere to follow at my heels. The malamute trots in behind me, settling on the rug with a contented sigh as I rummage through the borrowed clothes Hunter provided.
“What do you think, Thor?” I ask, holding up options. “The sweater or the t-shirt?”
Thor woofs softly, his blue eyes watching me with what seems like genuine interest.
“T-shirt it is,” I decide, dropping the towel to pull on underwear and a simple black bra.
The jeans I choose are a bit tight—Hunter mentioned they belong to his cousin who visits occasionally—but they’ll do. The t-shirt is long-sleeved with a deep V-neck that shows more cleavage than I’d usually display, and it rides up slightly to reveal a strip of skin at my waist when I move.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and pause, startled by what I see. It’s not just the clothes or the still-damp curls framing my face—it’s something in my eyes, a confidence I don’t recognize. The woman looking back at me seems different somehow, lighter, happier than the Lily who crashed her car in a snowstorm.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel genuinely happy, centered in my own skin.
“Come on, boy,” I say to Thor, who rises immediately to follow me back into the hallway.
Archer emerges from his room at the same moment, his eyes darkening appreciatively as they travel over me. “You should wear other people’s clothes more often,” he says, voice dropping to a register that makes my stomach flip. “Preferably mine.”
“Smooth,” I reply, though I’m secretly pleased by his reaction. “Very smooth.”
He pulls me close, hands settling on my hips. “I mean it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re stunning.”
Before I can respond, his lips find mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens, his hands sliding under the t-shirt to caress bare skin. I melt against him, arms winding around his neck, and everything else momentarily forgotten.
When we finally break apart, I’m struggling to remember what we were supposed to be doing. “We should... um...”
“Go downstairs,” he finishes, though he makes no move to release me. “Eventually.”
Thor whines softly beside us, clearly impatient with our human nonsense.
“Your chaperone has spoken,” Archer says with a laugh, finally stepping back. “Come on, let’s feed him and get some breakfast ourselves.”
As we move toward the stairs, I notice a picture frame on the floor beneath a now-empty nail in the wall. I pick it up carefully, turning it over to examine the image behind the cracked glass.
“What’s that?” Archer asks, peering over my shoulder.
“My grandmother with Hunter’s grandfather.” A photo I’d inspected days ago.
The photo shows her standing proudly in front of a storefront I recognize as an early version of Flour & Fable Bakery. Beside her is Hunter’s grandfather.
I’ve seen countless photos of my grandmother in her youth—the resemblance is unmistakable—but I still don’t get why there’s a picture of her here, in this cabin.
I turn the frame over, looking for any inscription or date, but find nothing. “How do they know each other?”
Archer takes the frame, examining it more closely.
Staring at him, an idea comes to me. “The phone lines are back up now, right?” I ask. “I should call my sister, anyway, let her know I’m okay. But maybe I could also video call my grandmother at Pine Grove Nursing Home and show her this photo.”
“Oh, she’s still alive? Brilliant idea,” Archer comments. “I have an iPad we can use for the video call—bigger screen. Let me grab it from my room.”
“Perfect. I’ll go downstairs and call Hannah first.”
In the living room, I settle on the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. Thor claims the spot beside me, his large head resting on my lap as if it belongs there. I scratch his head absently as I turn on my phone, noticing a number of messages suddenly popping up on my phone as it catches up. Mostly from Hannah… my stomach sinks. I dial my sister’s number.
She answers on the first ring, her voice tight with worry. “Lily? Oh my God, are you okay? I’m so fucking worried!”
Guilt washes over me instantly. “I’m fine, Han, I promise,” I say quickly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call again after the first message. The storm knocked out the phone lines, and everything’s been kind of... intense.”
“Intense? What does that mean? Where are you? I’ll come get you right now.”
I hesitate, suddenly faced with a reality I’ve been avoiding. The storm is over. The roads will be clearing. My heat has mostly subsided. There’s no reason for me to stay here anymore, right?
Except for the three Alphas…
The thought of leaving—of being separated from James, Hunter, and Archer—feels like someone’s reaching into my chest and squeezing my heart. But what exactly are we to each other now? We haven’t actually discussed what happens next.
“Maybe… that would be great,” I say, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “I need to arrange to have my car towed from where I crashed it, anyway.” I give her the address, remembering it from when Archer relayed it to the emergency services during our radio call days ago.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hannah asks, her voice softening with concern. “The bakery wasn’t that busy during the storm, but I really need you back. And I want to make sure you’re all right. God, Lily, you’ve been staying with total strangers. They treated you okay?”
“More than okay,” I admit, feeling heat rise to my cheeks as memories of the past few days flash through my mind. “They’ve been... incredible.”
“Incredible, how?” Hannah asks, suspicion creeping into her tone. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m not,” I protest, though my voice comes out higher than normal. “Just tired. It’s been a long few days.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not believing me. “Well, I’ll close the shop early and come get you this afternoon. That work?”
“Perfect,” I agree, ignoring the hollow feeling in my chest. “I’ve missed you, Han.”
“Missed you too,” she says, her tone softening. “You sure you’re okay? You sound... different.”
“I promise I’m fine. Better than fine. See you soon.” She gives her farewell, and I hang up.
Archer returns with the iPad, settling beside me on the couch, with Thor on the other. “Everything good with your sister?”
“Great,” I say, forcing brightness into my voice, unsure if I’m ready to deal with telling everything or the awkwardness that I will need to leave, I guess.
“What’s the nursing home’s number?”
I give him Pine Grove’s information, and he dials it on the iPad. The call connects to an audio-only line, and I explain to the receptionist that I’d like to video chat with my grandmother, Margaret Parker, in room 214.
“It might take a few minutes,” I tell Archer as we wait. “They have to set up the iPad in her room and help her figure it out.”
“No rush,” he says, sliding closer until our thighs press together. His fingers dance along my side, finding the strip of exposed skin at my waist and tickling lightly.
I squirm, laughter bubbling up despite my attempt to maintain composure. “Stop that! I need to be serious when?—”
The screen suddenly illuminates, showing my grandmother’s face, peering curiously at the camera. Her silver hair is styled in the soft curls she’s worn for as long as I can remember, barely reaching her shoulders. Her bright hazel eyes—the same ones I inherited—are magnified slightly by reading glasses perched on her nose. Despite being in her eighties, her skin is remarkably smooth, with fine lines at the corners of her eyes. She’s wearing her favorite lavender cardigan, a strand of pearls visible at the neckline.
A nurse hovers in the background, giving her instructions.
“I can manage it myself, dear,” she tells the nurse firmly before turning her attention back to the screen. “Lily! Oh, darling, I’ve missed you so much. I hope you and Hannah are safe after that terrible storm.”
The sight of her familiar face fills me with warmth. “We’re fine, Grandma. How are you doing?”
Her eyes shift from me to Archer, who hasn’t moved from my side, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across her face. “Lily, please tell me you have good news, and you’ve found your Alpha because that man by your side is gorgeous for you.”
Heat floods my cheeks instantly. “Grandma!”
But Archer merely leans closer to the screen, his most charming smile in place. “Mrs. Parker, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Archer Sterling, and I can assure you that I absolutely adore your granddaughter.”
I elbow him gently but can’t help admiring the way he speaks to her—respectful but warm, genuinely engaging rather than humoring an elderly woman the way some might.
“Call me Margaret, dear,” my grandmother insists, practically beaming at him. “Any man who looks at my Lily the way you just did has earned first-name privileges.”
“You’re too kind, Margaret,” Archer replies smoothly. “Lily tells me you’re the one who taught her to bake. I have to thank you—her cinnamon rolls are life-changing.”
I roll my eyes at his shameless charm offensive, but my grandmother is clearly delighted.
“Flatterer,” she says, eyes twinkling. “You must come visit me soon. I need to ask you some very important questions to make sure you’re right for my granddaughter.”
“I look forward to the interrogation,” Archer replies with a wink.
I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject before they start planning wedding cakes or baby names.
“Grandma, I actually called because I found something interesting.” I hold up the photograph to the camera. “Is this you… with someone from the…” I pause, turning to Archer. “What’s Hunter’s last name?”
“Thorne,” he says without hesitation.
I turn back to the iPad, my gaze locking on my grandmother. “With someone from the Thorne family?”
My grandmother’s expression transforms, softening with nostalgia. “Oh my,” she breathes, leaning closer to the screen. “Where did you find that? It feels like just yesterday.” She sighs deeply. “I heard Malcolm passed away recently. My heart hurt when I found out. He was such a wonderful man.”
“So, how did you know him?” I ask, curiosity burning through me. “You weren’t... dating, were you?”
She bursts out laughing, the sound so full and rich, it makes me smile despite myself. “Oh no, nothing like that! We were just friends… business friends. Malcolm lent me the money to open the bakery when no bank would give a loan to a silly woman with flour in her hair, as they put it. He let me pay him back without charging a single penny of interest.” Her eyes grow distant with memory. “He was a true soul, a heart of gold. We need more people like that in our world.”
Her gaze returns to us, her smile widening. “You two really do make a lovely couple. You must bring him to visit me, Lily. I need to make sure his intentions are honorable.”
“I’d be delighted to prove myself worthy,” Archer says before I can respond. “Though I should warn you, I have a tendency to charm elderly ladies. It’s my superpower.”
“Cheeky boy,” my grandmother laughs. “I like him already, Lily.”
I set the photograph down on the coffee table, shaking my head at their instant rapport. “So, Malcolm Thorne was just a friend who helped you start the bakery. That’s amazing, but I wonder why Hunter has this photo.”
“Oh, Malcolm cared for his family so much,” my grandmother continues. “He was always talking about his grandson, worrying about how he and his cousin fought constantly. He actually planted a treasure hunt for them to get along after he was gone. Isn’t that beautiful?”
Archer and I freeze, exchanging a startled glance.
“Wait, what did you just say?” Archer asks, leaning toward the screen.
“About the treasure hunt?” My grandmother looks surprised at our reaction. “Yes, Malcolm mentioned it a few times in his last years when he would pay me a visit occasionally. He left each boy half a treasure map in his will, hoping they’d have to work together to find it. A rather clever plan, I thought.”
“What else do you know about this treasure hunt?” I ask, my heart suddenly racing.
She chuckles, adjusting her glasses. “Well, the funny part is, there isn’t actually any treasure on the map.”
“There isn’t?” Archer’s voice rises in disbelief.
“Not on the map itself, no,” she explains, a mischievous smile spreading on her mouth. “Malcolm found the gold himself years ago. After building his properties and securing the land, he hid a significant portion of the treasure in each house. He told me once he concealed it in the basement walls. If the boys ever found the X on the map, they’d discover a note explaining this.”
Archer and I stare at each other, stunned into silence.
“Grandma,” I say slowly. “Do you remember exactly where in the basement he might have hidden it?”
She shakes her head. “No, dear, he never shared those details. Just that it was somewhere in the walls, I believe.” She peers at us curiously. “Why? Are you two treasure hunting now?”
“Something like that,” Archer murmurs, his knee bouncing with barely contained excitement.
We chat for a few more minutes, but I can feel Archer’s impatience matching my own. Finally, my grandmother glances at her watch.
“I’m afraid I have to go now, darlings. Bingo starts in ten minutes, and Ethel always tries to steal my lucky seat if I’m not there early. The woman is eighty-seven but moves like a jaguar when free pudding or prime bingo spots are involved.”
“Of course, Grandma,” I say, sending her a kiss through the screen. “I’ll visit soon, I promise.”
“Bring that handsome man with you,” she insists. “And be careful treasure hunting! Malcolm always said the real treasure was family, but a few gold bars never hurt anyone.”
Archer offers a charming farewell before ending the call. The moment the screen goes dark, we turn to each other with wide eyes.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, my mind racing with possibilities.