Chapter 1
SHARON
Don't be nervous. Breathe. Smile. Ring the bell.
I'm on Savannah's porch with my finger hovering in front of the doorbell like it's an explosive device.
The wind pushes my hair into my face again, and I blow it out with a frustrated puff.
My curls are already frizzy from the cold, and I'm wishing I brought a better coat, not my favorite red coat from CurvaCozy.
I need the type of coat that keeps you warm when you're in Pine Hollow, which is cold in the mountains.
I catch a reflection of myself in the window next to the door. Brown eyes, way too wide. Curls everywhere. Lip gloss smudged. Anxious omega pretending to be fine.
I straighten my shoulders. I will ring this bell. I am a grown woman with basic hand-eye coordination.
Before I can touch it, the front door yanks open.
Savannah's red hair is braided over one shoulder. She looks tired, gorgeous, and mildly annoyed at the entire universe. Or me.
"Sharon," she says, exasperated and amused at the same time. "Are you going to stand out here staring at my wreath all day, or are you coming inside?"
I try a smile. "Hey, Savannah."
Her scent spills into the cold air and wraps around me like a weighted blanket. Warm vanilla and bourbon, but sweeter now, thicker, like caramel warming in a pot. Pregnancy scent. Cozy. Comforting. Safe.
"We won't bite, but the frostbite will if you keep standing outside," she says.
I shake my head at the idea of being scared to go in and see the woman who gave me a chance when no one else would hire me.
"Not enough experience," they all said.
How do you get experience if no one ever gives you a chance? Well, Savannah did. She hired me to be part of her wedding planning business, and I'm eternally grateful.
I reach out to hug her, but I mostly just collide with her belly. Savannah snorts and steadies herself with one hand. "It's fine. Everyone bounces off me these days. I am a human safety barrel."
The heat hits first. The fireplace is roaring. Then the smell hits. Cinnamon, baby powder, and an alpha scent I've smelled before, but I can't put my finger on it. Sharp. Clean. Male.
The living room has baby blankets folded in uneven piles on the furniture. A half-assembled crib sits in the corner with screws scattered like confetti across the carpet. There are tiny socks everywhere, like snowflakes made of cotton.
Savannah lowers herself onto the couch with a slow groan. She settles in like she's been training for this exact moment of sitting down.
"Welcome to chaos," she says, patting the cushion next to her.
I slide my coat off and sit down. The couch sinks too easily, and I nearly disappear into it. My curls immediately fall into my eyes.
Savannah presses a hand to her belly. "Welcome to Pine Hollow. Did you get into the hotel alright? You know you could have stayed here."
I shake my head, because I’m not selfish. She's carrying triplets, and she was happy for me to stay with her.
"It's fine. It's nice there. Cozy."
And cold.
"Anyway, I've got something to tell you before I have these fellows and can't even remember my own name," she says.
"Triplets," I say. "Are you scared?"
I am. The whole idea of it terrifies me. And I know I should be making eye contact, but it's just crazy to think that she doesn't have two bowling balls shoved in her sweater, but three babies.
"I'm scared my three alphas won't cope rather than my triplets," she says.
"Why are they making such a fuss?" I ask.
She points to the living room. "Look around you.
There's nowhere to sit except the space on the couch I made for you.
They're either baby-proofing the place, and I don't want to burst their bubble and tell them that these little fellows aren't moving anywhere, or buying clothes, toys, or.
.. I don't know, Sharon. Sometimes I think they believe these babies are going to come out and start walking around this place. "
We both giggle as I watch a panicked Griff walking with some wood up and down the hallway like he's lost in traffic.
I tuck a loose curl behind my ear. "So, what's up?"
Because I know she didn't call me here to tell me about her alphas.
She grins. "I've got good news, I promise."
Before she can continue, a low voice comes from the hallway behind me.
"She can handle anything."
I turn around. My pulse stutters.
There is a man in the doorway, standing under the soft yellow hallway light.
He's tall. Like, tall enough that the top of the doorframe is probably intimidated.
Dark hair. Square jaw. Shoulders that look like they were designed specifically to carry both furniture and emotional baggage.
Tattoos curl across his forearms in black ink against tan skin.
He's holding a fire extinguisher in one hand like he just finished testing it.
He smells like cedar and smoke and leather. Sharp. Clean. Strong. A scent that settles low in my stomach in a way that feels dangerous.
Savannah waves toward him casually like she didn't just introduce a walking problem.
"That is Cassian Burnside," she says. "Logan's buddy at the station."
Cassian steps into the room, and his gray eyes land on me, steady and unreadable, like he's taking inventory of all my panic.
I'm speechless. Like ready to just leave my coat and run.
Why?
No.
Logan's friend. Does that mean...
"Sharon Martinez," he says. "You used to date my brother."
Heat prickles up my neck. Down my arms. Everywhere that heat has no business going.
Yes, I dated his brother. I manage a polite smile even though my scent is doing weird things.
"Right. I remember."
Like I could ever forget.
His brother. The jerk, the ass, the knothead, the absolute garbage can of a man.
He stays locked in a tiny compartmentalized box.
Is that healthy? Probably not. But I'm not reliving those memories right now.
I refuse to let a family connection to my worst relationship mess with this opportunity.
I'm going to do my absolute best for Savannah and prove to both of them I can handle it.
Savannah clears her throat and moves things along.
"Anyway. Back to my news," she says.
Cassian moves quietly to the corner of the room, and he doesn't say another word. But I can feel him there. His scent lingers in the air, warm and smoky, and my body is acting like it has opinions I definitely did not approve.
I focus on Savannah. I need to focus on Savannah and not on the alpha in the corner who smells like danger and looks like every bad decision I've ever wanted to make.
Savannah squeezes my hand. "I'm officially on maternity leave. Which means Bourbon Bliss Weddings needs someone to take over while I try not to pop like an overfilled balloon."
My heart jumps. "You want me to help you?"
She shakes her head. "Not help. Run it."
I stare at her. Are the babies affecting her ability to think straight? “Run what exactly?Everything?”
"You are ready," she says.
My voice comes out small. "Savannah, I just assumed that you would be closing down for a while."
She smiles at me. "You're talented, and you care about people. And you work well under pressure. So much better than I ever did."
"Sharon," Savannah says, squeezing both my hands now. Her scent shifts—that warm vanilla and bourbon going softer, more serious.
"At first, my plan was to work alongside you.
Train you up, see if you could handle it, then decide from there.
" Savannah shifts, one hand resting on her belly.
"But after the scare last week, I realized something.
Health comes first. Family comes first. If you can't do this, I'll close up shop.
No hard feelings. But I'm done putting the business ahead of everything else. "
I open my mouth, but she holds up a hand.
"With three babies coming, I'm not going to have the bandwidth for this. Hell, I don't know if I'll remember my own name half the time." She laughs, and it's genuine, not worried. "I want to sit back and enjoy my alphas and my babies. Does that make sense?"
"It does," I say quietly.
"Good. Because the business is yours now. Not just while I'm on leave. Yours. You're going to be running the contracts, managing the clients, building the reputation. All of it."
"But Savannah, I don't know if I can do this alone."
"You won't be alone. Remember Jessica? Used to help me with the Whitmore events?"
I nod. Smart. Quick. Never flustered.
"She's agreed to come on part-time. She'll have your back while you find your footing."
Something loosens in my chest. I didn't realize how tightly I'd been holding myself until the relief hit.
"I trust you," Savannah says. "I wouldn't be handing you Bourbon Bliss Weddings if I didn't. You've earned this, Sharon. So stop looking at me like I'm making a mistake and start believing in yourself the way I believe in you."
My throat tightens. "Thank you," I manage.
"Now," she says, settling back with a satisfied smile, "your first wedding as the official owner and lead planner is tomorrow morning."
I repeat her words back like they're a foreign language. "Tomorrow."
"Yes," she confirms.
"Morning," I continue, still processing.
"Yes," she confirms again.
"Nine a.m.," I finish.
I take a breath. Then another. I'm going to need to pull myself together at some point.
"Okay," I say, trying to sound professional. "Who's the bride?"
"Penelope Carter. Influencer type. Loves florals and sparkle."
I nod. That sounds normal. Manageable. Survivable. Nothing that should make me want to set something on fire.
"And the groom," Savannah continues casually, flipping a page in her planner.
But before she can finish, Cassian says, "It's Ben. Your ex."
Like I needed him to clarify.
Ben. The man who told me I'd be prettier if I lost twenty pounds, then got annoyed when I stopped eating in front of him.
The man who made me feel like my body was something to apologize for, something to hide under loose clothes and dim lighting.
The man who called me a "warm-up omega" like I was practice for something better.
It took me a long time to unlearn the shame he planted in me. To stop flinching at my reflection. To wear jeans that actually fit and not feel like I was asking for criticism. I'm still not all the way there, but I'm closer than I was. And I'll be damned if I let him drag me backward.
"Right," I say. "Ben."
Savannah pats my knee gently. "I didn't know he was your ex. If I had known..."
"Then you would have killed him."
I cover my mouth. I can't believe I said that out loud.
"I meant then you would have canceled the wedding."
Again. Stop talking, Sharon.
"This is a bad idea," Savannah says, shaking her head. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
"No. It's fine. Time heals wounds and all that."
I jump up, my body suddenly humming with nervous energy. My gaze flicks to Cassian, lingering on the way his shirt stretches across his chest. I bite my lower lip, trying to focus. My ex is marrying someone else, and I'm planning it. Perfect.
"Shit!"
My heel catches on something, sending me tumbling forward. Strong hands grip my waist, steadying me against a wall of warm muscle. Cassian's breath tickles my ear, his scent wrapping around me like smoke.
"Careful," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble I feel against my back. He holds me longer than necessary. I don't pull away.
I turn my head slightly, our faces inches apart. "My knight in smoky armor," I whisper, my voice huskier than intended. "Planning my ex's wedding might just be fun after all."
Don't worry, universe. I have everything under control. You can take a break.
Oh yeah. You already did that when you left me to plan my ex's funeral.
No. Wedding. I meant wedding.