Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
ROSE
Aknock at the front door wakes me, and I grope for my phone, wondering who would be here this early.
Carter and I had driven home late last night in comfortable silence.
Despite his teasing all day, he hadn’t made any advances when he dropped me off.
Part of me had been disappointed as he turned away, my fingers brushing unconsciously against my lips.
The knock comes again, louder this time. Groaning, I roll out of bed, tug on my robe, and shuffle toward the kitchen. Ginger mewls at my feet.
“Not now,” I say through a yawn. I was not a morning person, and staying out late had only made it worse.
Not to mention, I’d been in the middle of a steamy dream about the wolf shifter haunting my every thought.
The very shifter I had no business thinking about—not when I had work to do, and he had a mission for his clan.
The knocking grows more insistent. I haven’t missed any calls, so what could it be? This had better be an emergency, or I was going to hex whoever dared interrupt the best sleep I’ve had in months.
“I’m coming!” I grumble, padding to the door. Peeking through the eyepiece, I spot Carter’s bike parked in the driveway, his familiar silhouette turned away.
“Carter? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” I ask as I crack the door open—only for Ginger to dart out between my legs.
“Good morning, Ro—what was that?” Carter spins, arms full of bags, the smell of bacon and coffee curling in the air.
“Hold on!” I sprint past him, feet hitting the cold cement as I chase Ginger around his bike. “Come here. No, leave his bike alone!” Ginger finally trots up to Carter and rubs against his pant leg, purring.
“I’m so sorry,” I pant, holding out my arms. “He never runs out like that.”
“Seems your kitty likes me,” Carter says, smirking as Ginger curls on his shiny black shoes.
“I thought cats and dogs didn’t get along,” I snipe back, scooping him up. “What are you doing here?”
“Touché, kitten.” He lifts the bags. “Since I kept you out late, I thought I’d bring breakfast.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that. You’re the one who rescued me. I owed you.” My stomach betrays me with an audible growl.
“Have and want are two different things.” He shifts his weight. “May I come in?”
I eye him, then the offering. I could never resist food. Touch and emotions might be my magic, but food has always been my love language.
“Yes,” I concede, stepping past him into the kitchen and setting Ginger on the floor. “It’s not like you’re a vampire barred from entering without permission.”
Carter chuckles, setting the bags on the counter. From one, he pulls out a drink carrier with two steaming cups and hands me one. I gratefully accept and take a long swallow of the sweet caramel macchiato.
“No, that’s just a fable. But I wouldn’t barge in without permission. Besides, I could sense the wards around your house.”
“They’re meant to deter ill intent, though they’re not infallible.”
And clearly doesn’t apply to objects from individuals with ill intent.
“Also, wolf shifters can detect magic? I didn’t know that.” Across the counter, Carter pulls two warm breakfast sandwiches wrapped in brown paper from the bag.
“Let me grab some plates,” I say, stretching for a pair from the shelf.
But as I step back, my foot lands on Ginger’s toy.
I slip, plates wobbling—until Carter’s arms close around me, warm and solid, pulling me against his chest. His breath is hot at my ear, my skin burning through my clothes where we touch.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, kitten,” he murmurs as he steadies me and sets the plates on the counter.
“Yes, well. Thank you for breakfast.” My cheeks burn as I tuck my hair back and take a plate.
We eat in silence, comfortable yet charged.
“Rosemary? About last night…”
Heat pricks my eyes, jealousy sharp in my gut. I have no reason to feel this way—he’s free to see whoever he wants.
“It’s not my business if you want a… thing with those fae,” I mutter, staring at my empty plate. “The triplets have a reputation for their taste in shifters.”
Carter chokes on his coffee, pounding a fist against his chest as he stares at me, dumbfounded—his eyes flashing gold before settling back to cerulean. “What are you talking about?”
I swallow hard, the memory of the triplets’ lingering stares twisting in my stomach.
“I saw the way they were looking at you. Right up until the vampires started harassing me. You didn’t have to come to my rescue.
I could’ve handled it.” I shove my plate into the sink.
“Thanks for breakfast. I’m sure you’ve got other places to be. ”
“Rosemary.” His voice drops low, commanding, and I freeze as he steps closer, bracing his hands on either side of me against the sink. My pulse pounds, the heat radiating off him nearly unbearable. “I have no interest in any of the owners of Summerwind. Let alone all three of them.”
My chest tightens, breath catching as his gaze locks on mine. It’s raw, claiming, as if I’m staring straight into his wolf.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My fingers curl against the edge of the counter. “Anyway… I shouldn’t waste more of your time. I need to get to work.”
I try to duck under his arms, but the robe I’d tied loosely comes undone, revealing the soft blue silk of my pajamas clinging to my curves. Heat floods my cheeks as I fumble to close it. Carter’s lips twitch into a dangerous smirk as his golden eyes rake over me, drinking me in.
“Work can wait,” he growls, voice low and feral, his hand brushing my hip. “Tell me, Rose. How do you plan on getting there?” He shifts to lean casually against the counter, the sun streaming across his profile, gilding his tanned skin and unruly hair. Adonis himself, standing in my kitchen.
“I—” And then I remember why I’d stayed out so late in the first place. My tires. I close my eyes and groan, rubbing my brow. “Shit, my car.”
“Don’t worry. I called the tire shop this morning. Your car’s ready to pick up, and I can drop you off whenever you’re ready.” He glances at the watch on his wrist, then casually sips his coffee.
Goddess damn this man and his impeccable thoughtfulness.
After Carter drops me at the tire shop, I head straight to my office.
Thanks to the slashed tires and yesterday’s disaster at the decoration store, I’m now a day behind on my duties at the event hall—and the grand opening.
The boxes still need to be dropped at the lounge, though the last thing I want is for Angelique to see the wrong color and send me packing.
Somehow, I also have to find a replacement band before opening night.
I sigh, push open the door, and make a beeline for my office, pausing only long enough to wave at the receptionist. The hall hums with voices and the steady clatter of keyboards from every office I pass, and I pray no one stops me.
At my desk, I sink into the chair and pull out a pad for a new a to-do list, setting my coffee on the moon-shaped coaster Netti gave me last Christmas.
The moon. Carter.
As if I needed another reminder of the wolf shifter who won’t leave my thoughts—or the weekend we spent together, which somehow feels like both an eternity ago and only yesterday.
Was he affected as much as I was? Does he ever regret not taking things further, not pushing when I insisted long distance wouldn’t work with my schooling and job?
I shake my head to clear my wandering thoughts and refocus on my office.
A stack of letters waits on my desk—mostly invitations to openings, band tours, and private parties from places I’d helped with during internships.
I flip through them for anything urgent before setting them aside, then pull out my laptop and calendar, turning to the monthly page.
With careful strokes, I cross off today’s date.
Seven days until the grand opening of the Wise Fox, and I still had a mess to untangle. At least the macarons were safe—I’d phoned the bakery on my way back, and they assured me the order would be ready the day before.
“Macarons and flowers down. Let’s see about the rest.”
I tap the end of my pen against the desk, resisting the old habit of chewing caps—a nervous tic I’d dropped years ago after Netti’s horror stories, though the urge still lurks whenever deadlines tighten.
“Who could cast a glamour strong enough to hold over every decoration?” I mutter, scrolling through my contacts.
Nothing. A few witches might manage a centerpiece or two, but enough to keep the whole lounge from flashing puke-green mid-opening?
The last thing I needed was the Wise Fox turning into a split-pea nightmare at the stroke of midnight.
“Rose, have you met Dria?” Susan’s voice carries from the hallway. I push back from my desk, stretching stiff muscles. The receptionist appears in my doorway with a teenager in tow—dark wavy hair with golden highlights piled into a messy bun, rich olive skin glowing under the fluorescent light.
“She interviewed yesterday,” Susan explains. “She’ll shadow me at the front tomorrow.”
I freeze, studying the girl. Déjà vu prickles sharp down my spine.
“Do I know you?” I circle my desk and extend a hand. The moment our palms meet, my magic flares. A flood of emotions slams into me—excitement, fear, awe, apprehension. I send a pulse of calm, watching her shoulders ease before I let go.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t think so,” she says softly, bowing her head.
“She’s been at the local grocer for a few weeks but wanted a change,” Susan adds with a laugh. “Says she’s interested in travel and event planning—remind you of anyone? Perhaps you could take her along for a day. Just don’t scare her off with stories of overworking.”
“Where did you say you moved from?” I fold my arms over my chest, studying Dria closer. Faces stick with me, voices too—even after years. And hers sparks something I can’t quite place.
“Oh, my family’s from a small town—you wouldn’t know it. I moved here to get some experience and, well, you know.” She laughs nervously, rocking back on her heels.
“Yes, I’m well aware of how family can be, small town or not.” I smile, hoping to ease some of her nervous energy.
“Actually, speaking of family, I should head home. I told them I’d only be gone an hour for the tour.”
“Alright, see you tomorrow—” But she’s already turning, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
“Youth,” Susan says with a shrug.
“Do you think she’ll be a good fit?” I watch Dria’s retreating form, still nagged by the sense I’ve seen her before. “She seems anxious. Flighty.”
Both qualities I can’t handle right now—not with the lounge’s opening only a week away. What I need is stability and calm, not another variable I can’t control.
“We’ll see how tomorrow goes,” Susan replies as we both stare at the door swinging shut at the end of the hall.