26. Ash
26
ASH
I crouch at the edge of the tidal pool, carefully collecting water samples, my hands steady as I fill the vials.
The water’s clearer than I expected, untouched. It’s a scientist’s dream.
The virtual meeting with Dr. Lowe had gone well; she was satisfied with my progress so far. But this… She’s gonna lose her shit when I bring this back.
Behind me, the others are sprawled out on the rocks, stretched beneath the sun like they belong here.
“You done with your nerd shit yet?” Jake calls out, lazy and teasing.
“Almost.” I cap the last vial and slide it into my pack.
He watches me. “Need more? I can bring you back tomorrow.”
That stops me.
It’s not a casual offer. He means it.
Something tightens in my chest.
Because no one’s ever given a fuck about my work like this. Not my family. Not anyone.
I clear my throat, forcing a smirk. “Nah. Got what I need.”
Jake nods easily.
Rowan stretches, rolling his shoulders. “Damn shame Grace can’t fuck right now,” he says, voice full of amusement. “Can you imagine getting railed with this view?”
Grace gasps, grabbing a pebble and chucking it at him. “Rowan!”
He laughs, a deep rumble. “What? Just saying.”
She shakes her head, but her lips twitch. “Cut it out, or you’re gonna make me go into heat.”
Rowan grins, all slow and knowing. “Now that would be interesting.”
Grace makes a strangled noise. “You are the worst.” Then, suddenly, she brightens. “You know what? If we can’t fuck, we can at least swim.”
Jake arches a brow. “You sure?”
She throws her hands up. “Yes! God, you’re all so overprotective. It’s just water.”
And then she’s stripping.
The hoodie goes first. Then the shorts.
Fuck.
Red lace.
Tiny, delicate. A bra that barely covers her. A thong that disappears between her ass cheeks.
My cock twitches in my boxers.
Rowan exhales sharply. Jake mutters something.
Grace smirks, hands on her hips. “What? Y’all act like you’ve never seen me half-naked.”
Jake drags a hand down his face. “Not the point.”
Rowan’s already pulling his shirt over his head. “If we’re doing this, let’s do it.”
I shake off the shock, stripping down to my boxer briefs. The water’s cool as I step in, but it feels good. It’s the kind of cold that wakes you up.
Grace floats on her back, eyes closed, hair fanning out. “See?” She splashes Jake. “Nothing to worry about.”
Jake grumbles, but he’s in the water, too.
Rowan comes up behind her, hands skimming her waist as he lifts her effortlessly. She shrieks, laughing, kicking at him.
And just like that, we’re playing. Touching. Kissing. Holding her.
Water slicks over skin. Laughter echoes through the falls.
It’s the very best of times.
* * *
The walk back is quiet, comfortable.
Grace is nestled between us, her steps a little slower than before, and I can tell she’s feeling the hike in her legs. She grumbles something under her breath about waking up too damn early for this, and Rowan chuckles, reaching over to ruffle her hair.
“You say that every time, and yet, here you are,” he teases.
She glares up at him. “Yeah, well, I’d better get something good out of this. And since sex is off the table, I want a damn good breakfast.”
Jake laughs, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You and your priorities.”
“Listen, if I can’t fuck, I should at least get to eat well,” she declares, stealing my thermos of cocoa and taking a long sip.
I roll my eyes, but my chest tightens, watching her like this—grumbling, sleepy, but happy. It’s so damn easy with her.
But beneath the ease, something hums in the air.
Something primal.
I feel it thrumming through my bones, a low, restless energy. My Alpha has been on edge since the moment Grace nestled between us, since the scent of her—warm, familiar, ours—wrapped around me like a second skin.
I can tell Rowan senses it too; his jaw tics, his pupils slightly blown as he watches her sip from my thermos, lips soft and pink against the metal rim.
Jake, who is the best among us at masking his hunger, just shakes his head and looks away.
But I see it—the way his fingers tighten where they rest against her hip, the way his throat bobs when she sighs, stretching like a damn cat in the midday sun.
She’s driving us fucking insane.
By the time we get back to town, the diner is already bustling. The scent of coffee, bacon, and syrup fills the air as we step inside, the bell over the door jingling.
We slide into a booth, Grace on my right, while Jake and Rowan sits across from us. Rowan scanning the menu like he doesn’t already know what he’s ordering.
“Chocolate chip pancakes,” Grace says without looking up. “And bacon. Lots of bacon.”
Jake raises a brow. “That’s a kid’s order.”
She kicks him under the table. “And? Let me live.”
Rowan smirks. “Guess that makes me a kid, too. I’ll take the same.”
The conversation is easy, filled with teasing and laughter. Jake tells some dumb story about a guy at the shack trying to trade fresh fish for beer, and Grace nearly chokes on her coffee.
But the air shifts when the food is gone, when the comfortable silence settles, when Grace leans against me with a quiet sigh, her body relaxed but her scent curling around me like a temptation I shouldn’t give in to.
My Alpha stirs, the need to claim her pulsing through my veins hot and demanding.
“Fuck, I’m sore,” she mutters, stretching her legs out under the table. “I need a nap.”
Jake wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I’m heading to open up the shack. You good?”
Rowan nods, tossing some bills onto the table. “Yeah, I’m gonna check on Helene .” His boat. His pride and joy.
I glance at Grace. “You wanna head back?”
She tilts her head up at me, eyes warm. “You gonna nap with me?”
“Yeah.”
She smiles, small and sleepy, and I swear it does something to me.
When we step out into the parking lot, she stops, looking out over the quiet town. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. She just breathes.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, then, softer, “Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”
I don’t need to ask what she means.
The pack. The bond. Us.
I take her hand, leading her to the car and pulling her closer. She moves easily, climbing into my lap as I settle back against the seat.
Her arms loop around my neck, face pressing into my skin, and she exhales like she’s been holding something in all day.
I hold her, rubbing slow circles into her back, and she nuzzles in, warm and soft against me.
“You smell good,” she murmurs, voice drowsy. “Like sweat and—” She pauses, then licks up my throat.
A low growl rumbles in my chest.
Heat pulses through me, sharp and undeniable. My grip on her hips tightens, my Alpha straining against my control.
“Grace,” I warn, voice rough.
She hums, shifting just enough that her lips brush my jaw. “What? Just because I can’t have sex doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.” Her fingers skate over my stomach, trailing lower. “And you’re my Alpha, right?”
Fuck.
The word slams into me like a physical thing. A challenge. A reminder.
She’s pushing. Testing.
I swallow hard and she’s watching me now, eyes dark and playful, fingers teasing the waistband of my shorts.
“Grace,” I say again, but it’s rougher this time.
She smiles. “Then let me.”
Her hand dips into my boxers, wrapping around me, and I curse under my breath, jaw clenching as she strokes, slow and teasing.
“Shit,” I hiss. “Anyone could see us.”
“No one will,” she whispers. “Kiss me.”
My restraint snaps.
I grip the back of her neck, yanking her mouth to mine, and she gasps, the sound swallowed between our lips as I kiss her hard.
She moans, squeezing just right with her thumb sliding over the thick head of my cock, and I shudder, pressing my forehead against hers, fighting to breathe.
“Mine,” she murmurs.
Possessive. Unyielding.
Something in my chest snaps.
I bite down on her throat, hard enough to leave a mark, and she gasps, her entire body arching into me. My Alpha groans in satisfaction, primal hunger threading through every nerve in my body as I grind up into her grip.
It’s too much. Too good. I come with a low growl, rutting into her hand, every muscle in my body tightening.
She hums, pleased, kissing my jaw.
I exhale, my grip still firm on her waist. Then my fingers slide up her thigh, teasing the edge of her shorts.
She whimpers, shaking her head. “No. Not yet.”
I clench my jaw, exhaling sharply. “This is gonna be a long four weeks.”
She giggles, pressing a kiss to my throat. “Yeah, it is.”
And fuck, I already know she’s gonna make me suffer.
The drive to Grace’s place is easy with the kind of quiet that settles when she’s warm and loose, sinking into the passenger seat like she owns it.
She stretches, rolling her shoulders, her hoodie slipping off to one side, exposing the smooth skin of her collarbone.
Fuck. I grip the wheel tighter.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs, amusement lacing her voice.
“Can’t help it,” I say, not bothering to lie. “You do things to me.”
She smirks, eyes still closed, legs curled up in the seat. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
I don’t answer, not with words. Instead, I reach over, trailing my fingers up her thigh, then snapping the elastic of her shorts against her skin. She yelps and swats my hand away.
“Ash!”
I just chuckle, turning onto her street. “I need a shower,” I tell her. “And you’re gonna keep me company.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I just hiked for hours and ate half my weight in pancakes. I need a nap.”
“Nah,” I say, parking the truck. I cut the engine, lean over, and bite her jaw, just enough to make her breath hitch. “You need me to put you in your place.”
She shivers. Yeah, she likes that.
I step out, rounding the truck to her side, pulling her out before she can complain. She’s laughing, already trying to squirm away, but I palm her ass, delivering a sharp smack that makes her yelp again.
“Ash!”
“Keep acting up, Gracie,” I warn, voice low in her ear. “See where it gets you.”
She grumbles but doesn’t fight me when I tug her toward the door, one hand still resting on her hip, thumb stroking just under the hem of her hoodie. But as she reaches for her keys, she stops.
Goes completely still.
“What the fuck?” she murmurs.
I follow her gaze, and my blood turns cold.
There’s a bright red eviction notice pinned to her door.
She rips it down, eyes scanning too fast, lips parting. “This has to be a mistake.”
I don’t like the way her voice wavers.
“What the hell is this?” I ask, stepping closer, looking over her shoulder.
It’s official, the kind of legal shit that isn’t just an empty threat. It says “Notice to Vacate” at the top. Effective immediately. The name scrawled at the bottom is one I recognize.
Harold fucking Whitmore. Her landlord.
Grace is already digging her phone out of her pocket. “I need to call him,” she mutters, pacing as she presses the phone to her ear. “This doesn’t make sense. I pay my rent on time. I?—”
She stops, her landlord answering on the other end.
“Harold, what is this?” she demands, no preamble, just raw confusion. “I just got home, and there’s a notice on my door saying I need to vacate? That has to be a mistake, right?”
I listen, my Alpha pacing in my chest, tension coiling as she goes quiet, just nodding, swallowing hard.
Then—
“You’re what?”
I step closer, feeling the shift in her energy.
She’s not just confused. She’s stunned.
“You’re putting the house on the market?” she repeats, like saying it out loud will change the reality of it. “You—Harold, I’ve been a good tenant. You didn’t even warn me. You can’t just?—”
She stops again. My fists clench.
“New real estate company?” she asks tightly. “Who? What company?”
There’s another pause, then she lets out a sharp exhale, fingers digging into her forehead.
“That’s—no, this isn’t fair,” she says, voice breaking just slightly. “You can’t just decide this out of nowhere.”
I don’t like the way Harold must be answering, because her face twists in frustration, her chest rising and falling faster.
She closes her eyes. “Who are they?” Then, quieter, “Maybe I can talk to them.”
Another pause. Then she nods, grabbing a pen from her bag and scrawling something onto the back of the eviction notice.
“Fine,” she says. “Thanks.”
She hangs up, but I don’t miss the way her hand trembles.
I reach for her, but then I see the name she just wrote down.
And my whole fucking world stops.
Westwood Holdings.
My blood runs cold.
Grace turns, eyes locking on mine. “Ash?”
I don’t speak. I can’t.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, voice edged with concern. “Do you know them?”
I exhale slowly, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
“It’s a subsidiary,” I manage, “of my family’s business.”
She blinks. “What?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Let me handle this.”
I pull my phone from my pocket and call the one person who can give me answers.
My father answers on the first ring.
“Son,” he says, sounding too fucking pleased . “About time you called.”
My stomach knots. “What the hell are you doing buying property in Driftwood Cove?”
My father chuckles . Chuckles . Like this is some kind of joke.
“Well, isn’t it lucky we learned about this place?” he says smoothly. “Wouldn’t have, if not for you.”
My teeth grind together. “You can’t do this.”
“I can,” he says easily. “And I am.”
I inhale sharply, my Alpha snarling. “You had no right.”
“I had every right,” he counters. “Business is business, Ash. You, of all people, should know that.”
My hands curl into fists.
“Chin up,” my father continues. “The family will be coming next week to see our investments. Maybe you can show us around town.”
Fuck.
I end the call without another word, my heart pounding.
I stare at my phone, then at the eviction notice still crumpled in Grace’s hands. My past—the one I ran from, the one I swore I’d never let touch this place—is closing in.
And I have no idea how the hell I’m going to stop it.