Chapter 5 #4
Rhys washes a wine glass, turning it under the water, watching the way droplets bead and slide. He shakes it off with a flick of his wrist and holds it out.
The moment Mia reaches, he turns his wrist, letting his thumb stroke along the inside of her wrist as she takes the glass.
My own skin lights up, phantom heat tracking where he touches her like my body thinks it’s happening to me.
“You have great instincts,” he says quietly. The sound barely carries over the running water and clink of dishes, but I catch it. Of course I do. I am keyed to her like a radio locked on a single station. “The way you handled Carol? Perfect.”
“I was internally screaming,” she murmurs.
“Good,” Knox says, not looking up from the plate he’s stacking. “Fear keeps you sharp.”
She snorts. “That’s comforting.”
“Smart omega,” Rhys adds, and there’s a note in his voice that is pure, uncut alpha approval. “We like smart.”
The possessive purr on we like does something to me.
Mia’s fingers twitch, and the glass slips from the towel.
Fuck.
It tilts in her hand, wobbling in slow motion. I see it falling before she does, my whole body seizing.
I don’t know when Eli moves but he’s suddenly there. His hand shoots out, instinct faster than thought, and plucks the glass out of the air a split second before it hits the floor.
Time snaps back.
Mia stares at him, wide-eyed, breathless. Her scent is a tangle of embarrassment, adrenaline, arousal, and a thread of awe.
Eli sets the rescued glass gently on the island and finally looks up.
His gaze goes from the glass to Mia. “Careful. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
Mia goes very still. Her fingers flex around the towel.
“Okay,” I say, clapping my hands once, way too loud. Everyone jumps. “Dish duty looks handled. I’m going to, uh, take the trash out before we get fruit flies or whatever the HOA citation for ‘insufficiently contained organic waste’ is.”
Eli gives me a look that is eighty percent you’re an idiot and twenty percent thank you.
“Want help?” Mia blurts, like she needs an excuse to escape the kitchen. “I mean—I can…carry things?”
God, she’s cute.
“Nah,” I say, backing toward the sliding door. “You’ve already baked, taste tested, and survived Carol. You’ve met your community service quota for the day.”
She laughs, a little breathless.
“In that case…I should go,” she says after a beat. “I have…work tomorrow. And boxes. Always more boxes.”
“Always,” I echo.
She sets the dish towel down. “Thank you…for the barbecue.”
“Thank you for the brownies,” Knox says quietly. “And for…tolerating us.”
She looks at him, then at Rhys, then at me. Her gaze softens. “It wasn’t a hardship.”
The air in the kitchen does that thing again. Tightens. Hums.
“I’ll walk you out,” Eli says. He’s already moving, wiping his hands on a towel and stepping around the island.
We watch them go.
Knox leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze tracks them through the living room. Rhys goes back to washing the same glass he’s been holding for two minutes.
“She likes us,” Knox says, and it’s delivered with a slow, smug grin.
“She’s terrified of us.” I move to the sink to dump the rest of my beer.
“Both,” Rhys murmurs. “It’s both.”
Through the front window, I see them on the porch.
Eli stops at the top of the steps. Keeping that respectful distance he’s so damn good at. He says something low and Mia looks up at him, hugging her arms around her waist.
Then she smiles, turns and walks down the path.
Eli stays on the porch until she’s all the way inside her own front door and the lock clicks. Only then does he turn back.
When he walks back into the kitchen, the air shifts. The “host” energy is gone. The “polite neighbor” mask is gone.
He looks wrecked.
He leans his hands on the island, head hanging low for a second, shoulders heavy.
“Well,” Knox says into the silence, his voice unusually quiet. “We didn’t scare her off.”
Eli lifts his head. His light-blue eyes are dark with adrenaline and something much, much hungrier.
“Barely,” he says roughly.
He looks at me, then at Knox and Rhys.
“We need to be careful.” His voice sounds stripped raw. “She’s...skittish. If we push too hard, she’ll bolt.”
“She’s interested,” Rhys murmurs softly.
Eli doesn’t argue. He just exhales, a ragged sound that vibrates in the quiet kitchen.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “She is.”
He pushes off the counter and heads for the stairs, walking like his bones ache, leaving the three of us standing in the wreckage of the evening.
I look at the glass she was holding. It’s sitting on the counter where Eli rescued it.
I pick it up.
It still smells like her. Strawberries and nerves and that soft, warm heat.
My alpha rumbles in my chest, a low, hungry purr of anticipation.
We survived the barbecue. We played nice. We followed the rules.
But looking at the smudge of her fingerprint on the glass, I realize Eli is right to be worried.
Because now we know she isn’t immune.
We smelled the want on her skin. We saw the way she leaned into the heat.
And I have no idea how the hell we’re supposed to stay away from her now. Or if we even want to try.