Chapter 2
SOPHIE
The brass candlestick feels solid in my grip, its weight grounding me as I stand outside the guest room door. My heart pounds in my chest, each thud echoing in my ears.
My Omega instincts scream at me to flee—to run far and fast—but I’m not about to let some stranger intimidate me in my house. No, this is my home now, and whoever’s with me is about to learn that.
With a sharp inhale, I tighten my grip on the candlestick and shove the door open with enough force to make it slam against the wall. “Who the hell are you?” I shout, hurtling the candlestick straight at the intruder.
He moves so fast I barely see it—his hand shooting out, catching the candlestick mid-air as if I’d tossed him a set of keys. My breath catches, my Omega instincts flaring to life, torn between awe and panic.
His scent hits me next, sharp and earthy, like cedar and the first rain after a dry summer. It’s intoxicating, wrapping around me and making it hard to think straight.
“Damn, woman,” he says, his deep voice tinged with amusement as he sets the candlestick on the table. “Is this how you plan to welcome all your guests?”
An impossibly tall figure steps into a shaft of sunlight shining through the window, and my stomach flips. He’s the kind of good-looking that makes my brain stop working.
He’s tall—Alpha tall—with broad shoulders and a frame that seems too large for the cozy space.
His sun-streaked brown hair falls just over his forehead, and his green eyes, bright and sharp, lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse stutter.
“Who are you?” I say while standing taller, trying to make my five feet and five inches of height seem a lot bigger. “What—what are you doing here?” I demand, trying to keep my voice steady. It doesn’t work.
“I could ask you the same thing.” His grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.
I’m too stunned to reply at first, my eyes darting from the candlestick in his hand to his piercing green eyes.
I’m overwhelmed by the Alpha presence radiating off him—a magnetic and infuriating pull.
My stomach tumbles again, warmth blooming in my chest despite the spike of adrenaline still coursing through me.
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” I manage again, my voice sharper than intended.
“Your house?” He arches a brow, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Didn’t realize anyone actually lived here.”
“Well, I do now,” I snap, squaring my shoulders. “So you can explain yourself, or I can call the police.”
“Tyler Hawk,” he says, holding out the candlestick as if offering an olive branch. “Caretaker. Been looking after the place since your Aunt passed.”
My stomach twists at the mention of Aunt Claire, but I shove the emotion aside. I take the candlestick, gripping it with shaking fingers. He seems nice enough, but my brain tells me not to trust him.
Alpha, the logical part of my brain tells me in a panic. Careful.
My Omega instincts, however, have a very different plan for us. Want! They shout over the warnings of my logical mind. Want, want, want!
“You don’t look like a caretaker,” I mutter, my gaze flicking to his broad chest and how his shirt clings to his frame. My cheeks heat up when I realize I’ve been staring.
“And you don’t look like the new owner,” he counters, his smirk widening. “But here we are.”
“I don’t have to look like anything,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. “This is my inn now, and I don’t appreciate being ambushed.”
“Ambushed?” He laughs, the sound rich and easy. “Lady, you’re the one who came in swinging.”
I huff, turning my attention to the room’s state. The ceiling has a large water stain, the wallpaper is peeling, and the once-cozy furnishings look worn and tired. Tyler notices my scrutiny and shrugs.
“Plumbing’s been temperamental, and the roof needs work,” he says. “Your Aunt kept up with it as best she could, but there’s been a lot to handle since she passed.”
His words soften the edge of my irritation, though I’m reluctant to admit it.
“I’m sorry,” I say awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to…well, throw things.”
“No harm done,” he says, his smirk returning. “Though I might recommend something heavier next time.”
His gaze sweeps over me, lingering for a beat too long. I shift uncomfortably, hyper-aware of how his scent seeps into my skin, mingling with my own vanilla and lavender perfume. My Omega instincts betray me again, making me lean toward him even as my brain screams to keep my distance.
Shut things down, Sophie, I tell myself.
I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips despite myself.
“I need to grab some tools from the shed,” he says, pushing off the doorframe. “Why don’t I show you around while I’m at it?”
I hesitate but nod. “Fine. But if you try anything funny, I’m going to have the candlestick with me.”
“Fair enough,” he says with a chuckle, leading the way downstairs.
Outside, the air is crisp and filled with the faint tang of salt from the nearby ocean.
The once-beautiful grounds are a mess of weeds and overgrowth.
Broken flowerbeds lie abandoned, rusted garden tools are scattered about, and the cobblestone path is barely visible beneath the moss creeping over it.
“It’s…worse than I thought,” I admit, my voice tinged with disappointment.
“The property has a ghostly charm,” Tyler says, his tone light. “That’s what your Aunt used to always say, anyhow.”
I snort despite myself. “Charming isn’t the word I’d use.”
He grins, and for a moment, the disrepair feels less overwhelming. There’s something grounding about his presence, even if I’m not entirely comfortable with how much my Omega instincts respond to him.
“You’ve got your work cut out for you, that’s for sure,” he says, glancing around. “But there’s still a lot of life left in the place. Don’t you think?”
I study him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.
“Why do you care?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’ve been here long enough to see what it meant to your Aunt. Figured it might mean something to you too.”
Tyler moves through the chaos easily, gesturing to various areas and describing their state of disrepair like a to-do list.
“We’ll need to clear all this out,” he says, kicking a broken pot aside. “And don’t get me started on the shed. Half of it is on your property. The other half’s...debatable.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the scent of apples and earth stops me cold. My Omega instincts flare to life again, sharper this time, and I turn.
Ethan.
His dark hair is windswept, and his broad shoulders are stiff with an unspoken tension. His gaze locks onto mine, unreadable but sharp, and the air between us shifts. He looks so much like the boy I left, except he has grown up. It makes the place in my heart that was his flair to life.
“Well, well,” Tyler says, clearly enjoying the change in energy. “Didn’t mention you two knew each other.”
“We don’t,” I say quickly, though the words feel hollow. And I know my scent reveals the lie.
Ethan’s lips press into a thin line. “What are you doing here?”
“I own the inn,” I say, lifting my chin defiantly. “Or what’s left of it.”
“Figures,” he mutters, setting the basket down. “Didn’t think you’d actually come back.”
“I didn’t think it was any of your business,” I snap, my frustration boiling over. “The inn belongs to me, Ethan. Not you. Not anyone else.”
He steps closer, his voice low and filled with warning. “You’ve been gone a long time. Things have changed.”
The words sting more than they should, and I hate that he still has this effect on me. Tyler watches the exchange with open curiosity, his gaze flicking between us like he’s piecing together a puzzle.
“The shed,” Ethan says, gesturing toward it. “It’s on the property line. Always has been. Don’t think owning the inn gives you free rein over everything.”
“I’m not here to fight with you,” I say, though my voice lacks conviction. “I’m here to rebuild what’s mine.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment before turning away, his movements stiff with tension.
“Stay out of the orchard,” he says over his shoulder. “That, I can claim.” The double meaning of his words is not lost on me.
The sentence hits me like a slap, and I’m left standing there, my chest tight and my pulse racing. Tyler leans in, his smirk returning.
“Total stranger huh?”
“No,” I say quickly, turning back toward the inn. My cheeks burn, my heart races, and every nerve in my body feels like it’s been set on edge.
I shake my head, unable to find the words. My gaze lingers on Ethan as he disappears into the orchard, the weight of his presence still pressing down on me.