Chapter 9 Sophie
SOPHIE
The main entrance of the inn feels anything but grand as I stare at the battered staircase in front of me.
The once-polished wood is dull and chipped, the banister wobbles dangerously if you so much as look at it, and a couple of steps are outright missing.
Others creak ominously underfoot with every tentative shift of weight.
“This thing’s a deathtrap,” Tyler mutters, whistling low as he looks at the staircase. “I always wanted your Aunt to let me tear it out and start over. But she never allowed me to modernize anything.”
I bite back a laugh. It’s absurd how much I enjoy Tyler, even when he isn’t being helpful.
“Well, we’re not exactly in the position to just rip it out and start over, anyways.
” I reply, glancing over at Ethan, who’s crouched near the base of the staircase, studying the structure with an intensity that feels borderline intimidating.
“It’s salvageable,” Ethan says after a long pause, his tone clipped but resolute. “But it’s going to take time and effort. And it’s a good thing Brodie’s here. He can fix almost anything.”
I glance at Brodie, who’s running a hand along the worn banister, his amber eyes thoughtful. “We can reinforce this,” he says, his voice calm and steady. “Cut new treads for the missing steps, sand everything down, and tighten up the joints. It’ll hold.”
His quiet confidence settles me in a way I can’t explain. “So, we’re all agreed,” I say, clapping my hands together with forced optimism. “We fix what’s already here.”
The three of them exchange looks, each assessing the damage—and each other—in their own way.
Tyler’s easy grin is a sharp contrast to Ethan’s stoic focus, and Brodie’s calculating calm sits somewhere in between.
It’s like watching three different storms brewing at the same time, and I can’t help but feel caught in the center.
Ethan straightens, brushing off his hands.
“Here’s how we’ll do it. Brodie, you’ll tackle that molding and match the missing Victorian details.
Tyler, you’ll reinforce the banister. I’ll work on replacing the damaged stair treads.
Sophie…” His piercing gaze lands on me. “You can sand and clean. Deal?”
“Deal,” I say quickly, desperate to feel useful. I grab a piece of sandpaper and a block and get to work on the lower steps while Brodie starts measuring and Tyler sets up a workspace nearby. I’ve never done anything on this scale, but the fear I had is quickly being replaced by hope.
I look over, and Tyler has taken off his sweatshirt.
Underneath he has on a faded band T-shirt that fits snug.
I’m mesmerized by the play of muscles that ripple across his chest and back as he moves.
And Oh my God, his arms are work of art.
I think as my eyes trace his slim torso down to his low-slung jeans.
“Sophie?” Brodie asks pointedly, looking from me to the block in my hand. I had completely stopped sanding, and there was probably drool on my face. I know my scent has to be so embarrassingly obvious. I duck my head and get back to work.
The rhythmic sounds of tools and sanding fill the space, accompanied by Tyler’s constant stream of commentary. He’s seemingly oblivious to my appraisal.
“Hey, rookie,” he calls out, smirking as I struggle to keep the sandpaper steady. “You sure you’re not sanding yourself more than the stairs?”
I shoot him a glare, which only makes his grin widen. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Brodie appears at my side, his presence quiet but grounding. He watches for a moment before stepping closer.
“Here,” he murmurs, his hands brushing mine as he adjusts my grip on the sandpaper. “You need to go with the grain, not against it. Like this.”
His body is so close I’m drowning in the smell of sunshine and leather scent, and I can feel myself slick. What is happening to me?
The hard warmth of his body lingers even after he steps back, letting his hand trace up my arm, shoulder, and neck as he steps away. I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand.
My pulse quickens every time our eyes meet, and I’m hyper-aware of how close he’s standing. His scent wraps around me, making it impossible to think clearly.
I question for the millionth time if it was smart to agree to have all of them help me with the house. I need the extra hands in a desperate kind of way, but the temptation, and the pressure of trying to keep from acting on it, is already starting to make my nerves fray at the edges.
I covertly glance at the three of them. They’re in harmony today. I could smell that something had changed when they showed up this morning as a group to help me out. I don’t know what exactly is different, but they feel…cohesive…comfortable with one another.
And their newfound comfort with each other seems to be lighting my Omega instincts on fire. I’ve never been this turned on by anything or anyone, and all we’re doing is fixing a rickety old staircase together.
“Why don’t you both focus before Sophie fires us all?” Brodie says after a while, his gaze directed at Tyler, who’s now bickering with Ethan over whose job is harder.
Their laughter fills the room, and with them here the inn doesn’t feel so empty. The sound of their camaraderie, however chaotic, is comforting. It feels…right.
“Firing you is tempting,” I say, unable to hide my grin, “But I’d have to find replacements, and you’re all I’ve got.”
The weight of their attention is suffocating, and yet, I crave more of it. My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic, dizzying rhythm that makes it impossible to think straight. I’ve never wanted anything—anyone—this badly, and it terrifies me.
It’s not just lust, not just heat coiling low in my belly; it’s them, all three of them, their scents tangling around me, making me weak.
Why do they look at me, like that? Like I belong to them already, and a traitorous part of me wants to. I don’t understand how I can feel this much, this fast, I suddenly need some air. If for no other reason than to take breath away from the alpha pheromones I'm drowning in.
Needing some air, I decide to go outside. I’m going to do something embarrassing like perfume if I don’t take a moment and gather myself. I stand, and I can tell by all their postures that they can scent me. It’s so mortifying that I can hardly stand it.
Clearing my throat I say, “Um, I’m going to go get some air for a moment.” I wipe the dust from my face, walking past Tyler, who’s decided to take a break and is lounging in a chair between me and the hallway with a look on his face that tells me he knows what I’m thinking.
“You’re getting the hang of this, rookie,” he says as I attempt to pass by him. I shoot him a slightly peeved look. I’m going to have to practically climb into his lap to get by him.
“Thanks, captain sarcasm,” I reply, rolling my eyes, but I can’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.
I decide it’s time to slip by him. I’m intent on putting some distance between us and the magnetic pull that’s only getting stronger.
But before I can take a single step, Tyler’s hand wraps around my wrist, his grip firm yet gentle. He tugs me back, catching me off balance, and I tumble onto his lap with a startled shriek.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he teases, his voice dropping into a warm, honeyed tone that slides over me like silk. My heart stutters, caught between surprise and something much darker, deeper.
His hands move quickly but without haste, one capturing both of mine and pulling them behind my back. The move is deliberate, commanding, yet careful enough that my Omega hums in approval.
His sharp citrus and sunshine scent—surges, wrapping around me and amplifying the heat pooling in my belly. My Omega instincts purr at the contact, the way his Alpha commands the moment with such ease.
“What are you doing?” I ask, though the answer hums in the air between us. My words lack bite, softened by the way my scent betrays me, spiking with arousal—warm, heady vanilla now edged with the undeniable sweetness of slick.
There’s no hiding it; Tyler’s nostrils flare, his eyes darkening as he takes in the shift.
"What I’ve wanted to do since the second I laid eyes on you,” he murmurs, his smile downright sinful, sending a thrill down my spine. “Brandishing that damn candlestick at me? Hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And sweetheart, you haven’t stopped driving me insane since.”
His free hand lifts, his fingertips grazing along my jaw in a way that leaves me burning.
I want to respond, to tease back with something clever, but his gaze pins me in place. There’s nothing but Tyler in that moment—his amber-flecked green eyes, the heat rolling off him, the rasp of his thumb brushing over my lower lip.
My Omega trembles, caught between the urge to submit and the need to challenge, to push him even further.
Tyler’s lips are warm, firm, yet impossibly smooth as they move against mine, teasing and coaxing without rushing. There’s a quiet dominance in the way he kisses, each slow, sensual stroke a deliberate command, unraveling me with nothing more than the pressure of his mouth.
His lips mold perfectly to mine, the slightest hint of roughness where the sea air has chapped them making the contrast even more intoxicating.
When he deepens the kiss, the heat of his breath mingles with mine, his lips parting just enough to draw me in, to make me crave more. He doesn’t just kiss—he takes, he claims, leaving no space between us, no doubt that this moment belongs to him. each stroke of his lips a deliberate claim.
My body melts against him, surrendering to the way he controls the moment, the way he tilts my head to take more, to give more.
His grip on my wrists tightens just enough to remind me that I’m his to hold, his to kiss like this, slow and sensuous, until I can’t think of anything but the way he tastes—like heat, like possession, like Tyler.
Breaking free of his grip, my hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate to anchor myself as the world narrows to nothing but Tyler.
His mouth moves against mine with a hunger that sets me alight, and when he trails kisses down my jaw and neck, I’m helpless to do anything but tip my head back and let him.
“Tyler…” I breathe, his name a whisper on my lips, more plea than protest. His teeth graze against the sensitive skin of my throat, and I shudder, a rush of slick soaking me. His chuckle vibrates against my neck, low and satisfied.
“God, Sophie,” he murmurs, his voice rough with want. “You smell so fucking good.” His tongue flicks against my pulse, and my hips jerk involuntarily. The primal edge in his tone, the raw hunger in his touch—it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
I’ve been fighting against this for most of my life, resentful of being an Omega, wanting to choose my own course for myself instead of letting my instincts direct my life.
But now, in this moment, I’m wondering why I’ve been struggling so hard.
This is better than wonderful, more than consuming, and completely fulfilling.
A soft moan escapes me, and I melt into him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as his hand slides down my side, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
For a moment, everything else fades away—the stairs, the inn, the tension weighing on all of us.
It’s just Tyler, his touch, his scent, the way he makes me feel like I’m the only thing that matters.
But then my gaze flickers upward, drawn by the weight of something unspoken, and I see Brodie and Ethan. They’re standing to either side of the staircase. Brodie’s amber eyes lock on me, watching everything. I can see him adjust himself.
My gaze flickers to Ethan, whose expression looks like a storm cloud, I can positively feel his desire in the air between us. Heat and promise simmers in his gaze, raw and unguarded, and my breath catches.
The weight of their attention sends a shiver down my spine, and my Omega keens softly, torn between wanting more and wanting all of them. I’m so slick.
“Tyler, stop,” I whisper, pulling back abruptly. My voice is shaky, my cheeks flushed, and I can feel the heat radiating off my skin. I scramble off his lap, muttering something about needing water as I flee toward the kitchen.
As I step away, I don’t miss the way Brodie and Tyler make eye contact. I can feel their unspoken communication, and it takes everything I have not to shed my clothes and present myself to them.
My heart races, my body still humming with the aftermath of Tyler’s touch, but my mind is already spinning in a dozen different directions.