9. Rowan
9
ROWAN
I stop dead in the middle of the block. Damn it. I didn’t even apologize for the day before. I shouldn’t have reacted so harshly when it was clear she was acting that way due to her heat. I rake a hand through my hair and turn around.
The shop is just a few buildings back. My pace quickens. What if she’s still pissed? What if she tells me to get lost? Screw it—I need to do this.
When I reach the door, I knock once. No answer. The little bell above the door jingles as I push it open, stepping into her world.
The place is alive with flowers. Every color, every kind. The scent of roses, lilies, and something citrusy swirls in the air.
But I can still smell her. Beneath all that floral sweetness, her scent pulls at something primal in me.
“Grace?” I call out, scanning the room.
She’s standing by the counter, watering can in hand, apron smeared with dirt, shoulders shaking. She’s crying.
“Grace.”
She turns, and before I can process what’s happening, she’s walking straight into me. Not storming, not stomping, just… collapsing against my chest.
I freeze for half a second. Her body’s warm and trembling, and feels so right against me . I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, stroking her back.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head because I don’t know what else to do. Her scent is stronger in here, and it’s doing something to my brain, scrambling my thoughts.
The bell chimes again.
Jake steps inside, looking like he’s ready to fight someone. His eyes dart to me, then Grace. “I felt like something was wrong, so I came back. What’s going on? You okay?”
She whimpers—actually whimpers —and pulls away from me, like I’ve burned her. The ache that leaves behind… I shove it down.
“I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess,” she says, looking between us.
Jake frowns, stepping closer. “What mess? Grace, what the hell’s going on?”
She walks over to him, wraps her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry for being such a jackass earlier.”
Jake blinks, stiff as a board. Then he softens, holding her awkwardly, like he’s not used to this kind of thing. “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She nods, pulling back to wipe at her cheeks. There’s a streak of dirt on her face now, right below her eye. I want to reach out, swipe it away, but I hold back.
“Start talking, Grace,” I say, crossing my arms. “From the beginning.”
She swallows, sniffling. “I went to the doctor. For years, I’ve been using suppressants. They’re supposed to keep my heats from happening. Yesterday,” she glances at me, “they failed. The doctor doesn’t know why, she needs to run more tests. And she can’t give me anything else to help me.”
Jake shakes his head. “That shit’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be messing with that.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she snaps, glaring at him. “But it’s either that or… this.” She gestures at herself, like that explains everything.
Jake and I exchange a glance. Yeah, we get it.
“And those Alphas earlier?” she continues. “That’s exactly why I’ve been on suppressants. It’s only gonna get worse. I’m like a walking fucking target now, you said it yourself.”
She turns to me, her pained expression almost accusing. How could I leave her like that yesterday?
My jaw tightens. “What can we do to help you, to keep you safe? You’ve gotta have some kind of plan.”
She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “What plan? The suppressants were the plan. I could lock myself up at home until it passes, but…” She gestures at her shop, at her flowers. “Unless I hire a full-time bodyguard—which, by the way, I can’t afford—there’s nothing to be done. I’ll just… deal with it.”
“You’re not dealing with this alone.” I say with a step forward.
She looks up at me, her eyes narrowing. “Oh yeah? What’s your genius solution, Rowan?”
I take a breath, forcing the words out. “We fake a bond.”
Her eyes widen. “A what?”
Jake’s brows shoot up. “You serious?”
“It’ll keep the assholes away,” I say, locking eyes with her. “If they think you’re already bonded, they’ll back off.”
Grace laughs again, sharper this time. “And what happens when they realize that I don’t smell right? What if they notice that you’re never around? That you’re not?—”
“I’ll stick around,” I interrupt, knowing her safety isn’t my only concern—her relief from her heat is just as important.
“Bullshit,” she snaps. “You’re always up there in your lighthouse. I’ve lived here for years and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you in town.”
“I won’t disappear,” I say firmly, stepping closer.
Jake clears his throat. “And when he isn’t around, I’ll step up. I’m around more anyway.”
Grace looks between us, her face a mix of disbelief and… something else. “You two realize how ridiculous this sounds, right?”
“It’s not ridiculous,” Jake says. “Think about it. If you’re constantly smelling like us, no one’s gonna fuck with you.”
“It’s true,” I add. “Predatory Alphas won’t risk it if they think you’re ours.”
She hesitates, chewing her lip. “Yours? Plural?”
Jake shrugs. “Guess that’s what we’re saying.”
I nod. “Yeah. Both of us. A pack.”
“A pack? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She stares at us like we’ve grown two heads.
“Do we look like we’re kidding?” Jake asks, crossing his arms.
Grace leans back against the counter, rubbing her temples. “I can’t believe this is my life.”
“Believe it,” I say. “You’re safer this way.”
She looks up at me, then at Jake. Her shoulders slump. “Fine. But if this blows up in our faces, I’m holding both of you responsible.”
“Deal,” Jake says.
I smirk. “Guess we’re a pack now.”
Grace rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath. But I catch the faintest hint of a smile on her face.
“Okay, how about we test this new dynamic out in public…” Jake says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“This town is known for gossip,” Grace says, rubbing at her knuckles. “I think we should be seen out together as evidence that we’re together. That way no one will get close enough to… me.”
I nod.
“That’s what I was thinking. We can do lunch at Rhys’s place?” Jake asks.
“I have to go fishing right now, so how about later in the day? Does six work?” I ask. I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I need to get away from here, but I can’t stay away.
This is insane.
This is an insane plan.
And I started it.
Then Grace says, “Six works. Thanks again for doing this.”
Suddenly, the plan doesn’t seem as insane.
“Perfect. I have to leave, but how about we all meet there?” Jake asks.
I nod.
Jake looks from Grace to me one last time before saying goodbye and heading out.
I’ve known him for years, but our interactions were limited to work. He’s an unusual guy, but he does seem to be truly committed to her. I wonder how long she’s been ignoring his obvious interest in her.
As the jingle fades, we realize we’re alone again. There’s a weird silence.
Grace is standing there, looking like she’s not sure what to do with herself. I drag a hand through my hair and decide to just rip the bandage off. “About what happened…”
Her gaze snaps to me, those hazel eyes already a little too good at reading me. “I overstepped,” she says quickly, like she’s trying to cut me off before I say something worse.
“You didn’t,” I say, which is technically a lie. She absolutely fucking did. But I’m the one who let it happen, so… who’s really to blame here?
“That picture…” I pause, trying to get the words out without choking on them. “It belonged to someone I knew. Someone I loved… and lost.”
Her eyes widen, and she whispers, “Oh. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“No one does,” I mutter. And I hate how raw it sounds coming out of my mouth. I clear my throat and try to shove the conversation in a different direction. “Anyway. Thanks for last night. And I’m sorry for leaving you like that.”
Her cheeks flush, and I know damn well she’s not thinking about the blanket or the tea. “Uh, yeah. You’re welcome.”
I nod, pretending like I don’t remember every damn second of her writhing under my hand. “How about I pick you up later? We can meet Jake at Rhys’s place.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “That works.”
I give her a quick nod and get the hell out of there before I do something stupid like kiss her.
* * *
Fishing doesn’t do shit to clear my head. I’m casting lines and pulling in the occasional fish, but the whole time, my brain’s stuck on Grace.
Her scent. Her warmth. The way she looked at me like I was something solid when everything else around her was falling apart.
What the fuck am I doing?
By the time I’m back home, I’ve got enough fish for dinner and a week’s worth of meals. I freeze the catch, jump in the shower, and try to scrub away the lust that’s swirling in my veins. It doesn’t work.
I get dressed—black button-down, dark jeans, boots. Standard Rowan. Nothing fancy, but clean enough for dinner at Rhys’s.
As I button up my shirt, I mutter a quick prayer under my breath. Not to God, necessarily. Just… to whoever’s listening. Please, help me not fuck this up.
The sign on Haven’s Nook says “open” when I get there, but the place is quiet. I step inside, and the smell of flowers hits me like a wall. It’s brighter in the evening light, every bloom glowing like it’s got its own spotlight.
“Grace?” I call out.
Her voice comes from the back. “One second!”
When she steps into view, I swear to God my brain short-circuits.
She’s wearing this red dress—low-cut, floral, with a hem that sways just above her knees. Black boots. Hair pinned up with little wisps framing her face.
Her makeup’s subtle but enough to make her look like some kind of goddess.
She catches me staring and gives me this shy little smile. “What?” she asks, smoothing her hands down the dress. “I clean up nice?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice coming out rough. “You do.”
Her smile grows, and for a second, I forget why I’m here. Then she grabs a small bag and says, “I went home and changed at lunch. I haven’t had an excuse to wear this dress in so long. Ready when you are.”
We step outside, and as we’re walking to the truck, she slips her hand into mine. It’s small and warm, her fingers lacing through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I glance down at her, and she tilts her head up, meeting my eyes.
“We need to sell it,” she says, her voice soft but firm.
“Right.” My throat’s suddenly dry. “Sell it.”
I don’t let go of her hand. Not because we’re “selling it,” but because… well, fuck, I don’t know. She’s beautiful, and I’m an idiot.
Rhys’s is packed when we get there. It always is. It’s loud, the kind of loud that drowns out your thoughts if you’re lucky.
Jake’s already waiting at a corner table, a beer in hand and a menu in front of him.
“About time,” he says when we walk in, smirking as his eyes flick to our joined hands.
Grace glares at him. “Be nice.”
He chuckles, and we sit down across from him. I keep her hand in mine until she pulls away to grab a menu. Immediately, I feel the loss.
Jake leans back in his chair, watching us with that knowing look that makes me want to punch him. “So, what’s the plan, lovebirds?”
Grace rolls her eyes. “The plan is to eat dinner and hope the entire town sees us together so they start talking.”
“And you think that’ll be enough to keep the assholes away?” Jake asks, arching a brow.
“It’s a start,” she says. “And if it’s not, we’ll figure out something else.”
Jake nods, his smirk fading into something more serious. “All right. But just so you know, I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
The way he says it—low and sharp—makes my shoulders tense. I glance at him, and he meets my gaze, his jaw tight. There’s no question about it: he’d die for her.
And yeah, I get it. She’s worth it. But it still makes my chest ache in a way I can’t explain.
“Neither am I,” I say, my voice steady.
Grace looks between us, her lips parting like she wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start.
The waitress shows up before she can figure it out, and we order—the lobster for Jake, steak for me, and Grace gets some kind of pasta that smells incredible when it arrives.
The conversation’s lighter after that. Jake talks about work, Grace shares a story about some old lady who came into the shop and bought a cactus, and I mostly listen, nodding along and trying not to stare at her too much.
When the food’s gone and the plates are cleared, Jake leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, what’s next?”
Grace sighs, running a hand through her hair. “We wait. See if this works. People are staring already.”
“But if it doesn’t?” Jake presses.
“Then we’ll try something else,” she says, her voice firmer now. “But for now, let’s just… take it one step at a time.”
Jake nods, satisfied, and stands. “I’ll head out first, since you two arrived together. It’ll make more of an impression than us leaving together, like always,” he says, his eyes locked on Grace. “You good?”
“We’re good,” Grace says, smiling up at him. “Thanks, Jake.”
He nods, claps me on the shoulder, and leaves. The second he’s gone, the air shifts again, like at her store. It’s quieter now, more intimate. Grace looks at me, her hazel eyes soft but guarded.
“Thanks for… all of this,” she says, her fingers playing with the edge of her napkin. She glances around the restaurant and blushes when she sees that people are still looking at us.
“Don’t mention it,” I say. “Seriously.”
She smiles, and it’s small but real. And for the second time tonight, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I didn’t completely fuck this up.