Chapter 18 Rowan
Rowan
I'm learning that there's no such thing as a casual coffee run in Vineyard Groves.
"So tell me more about the flower arrangements," Billie says as we walk toward Noble Grounds Café, her arm linked companionably through mine. "Lala says you've got a natural eye for composition."
"She's just being nice," I demur. "I mostly follow Crystal's instructions and try not to stab myself with the wire cutters."
"Don't believe her false modesty," Lala declares, walking backward in front of us with the confidence of someone who knows every crack in the sidewalk by heart.
"Crystal says she's a natural. And Crystal never compliments anyone.
I once recreated the Sistine Chapel in buttercream, and all she said was 'the cherubs are asymmetrical. '"
Avianna snorts. "That's because the cherubs were asymmetrical. You gave the left one biceps like a bodybuilder."
"It was artistic interpretation!"
I laugh, the sound surprising me with its ease. When did this happen? When did I start feeling so comfortable with these women, with this town? When did Vineyard Groves start feeling like somewhere I belong?
The thought sends a pang through me. I don't belong here. Not really. I have nine days left in my trial month, and then... what? Back to Heraford? Somewhere new? The text from my dad still sits unanswered on my phone, a reminder that my past is catching up to me whether I'm ready or not.
"Earth to Rowan," Avianna waves a hand in front of my face. "You still with us?"
"Sorry," I shake off the melancholy thoughts. "Just mentally reviewing my to-do list for the festival."
"Liar," Lala says cheerfully. "You were thinking about your hot roommates. That's the only thing that produces that particular furrow between your eyebrows."
"I do not have a roommate furrow," I protest, even as my hand flies up to check.
"You absolutely do," Billie confirms. "Right there." She gently pokes the spot between my eyebrows. "We can see it from space."
"You guys are the worst," I grumble, but there's no heat in it.
"The worst, or the best friends you've ever had?" Lala challenges as she pushes open the door to Noble Grounds Café with a flourish.
The question catches me off guard with its accuracy. They are the best friends I've had in years—maybe ever. In Heraford, I had colleagues, acquaintances, people I'd grab an occasional drink with. But this easy intimacy, this feeling of being seen and accepted exactly as I am? That's new.
And terrifying, if I'm being honest. Because the deeper these connections grow, the more it will hurt when they inevitably end.
The café is busy this morning, filled with festival volunteers fueling up before a long day of preparations. I'm scanning for an empty table when Lala suddenly squeals and waves enthusiastically.
"Look who's here! It's your boys!"
I follow her gaze and nearly trip over my own feet. Sitting at a corner table are Jasper, Theo, and Wells, all three looking up at Lala's exclamation with varying degrees of alarm.
"They're not my boys," I hiss, but Lala's already dragging me toward their table.
"Mind if we join you?" she asks, though she's already pulling out a chair before any of them can respond.
Theo recovers first, his easy smile sliding into place. "Not at all. Morning, Rowan."
I manage a nod, acutely aware of Jasper's gaze burning into me and Wells's careful neutrality.
Since the... incident with Jasper in the kitchen, things have been strained between us, to put it mildly.
And yesterday's moment with Wells at the festival grounds left me confused and frustrated in equal measure.
Only Theo has been consistently kind, though there's an intensity to his attention that both thrills and terrifies me.
"We're just discussing final logistics for the festival," Wells explains, his tablet open in front of him displaying what appears to be a complex spreadsheet. Of course.
"Fascinating," Lala says in a tone that indicates the exact opposite. "We're discussing something much more interesting." She leans forward conspiratorially. "Rowan's love life."
I choke on air. "We most certainly are not!"
"Only because you refuse to share details," Avianna points out.She drops into a chair, sagging into it with a sigh. Like walking here really took it out of her. "Which just makes us more curious."
"There are no details to share," I insist, deliberately not looking at any of my roommates. "My love life is non-existent."
"For now," Billie says with a meaningful glance at the three alphas. "Though I imagine living with these three makes it hard to meet other prospects."
An uncomfortable silence falls over the table. Jasper's jaw tightens visibly. Wells becomes very interested in his coffee. Only Theo seems unaffected, though there's a glint in his eye that suggests he's enjoying this far more than he should.
Lala, undeterred by the tension—or perhaps reveling in it—leans toward me. "So, have you claimed any of them yet?"
"Lala!" I splutter, mortified. "You can't just ask people that!"
"Why not? It's the twenty-first century. Women can claim multiple alphas if they want. Especially emerging omegas with a scent like yours."
If I could spontaneously combust from embarrassment, I would be a pile of ashes right now.
"I'm getting coffee," I announce, standing abruptly. "Anyone want anything?"
"Caramel latte," Lala says sweetly. "Extra whip."
"Peppermint or ginger tea please," from Avianna.
"Chai," Billie adds. "Thanks!"
I flee to the counter, grateful for the escape, however temporary.
Zeno, the perpetually brooding owner of Noble Grounds Café, looks up as I approach. "Let me guess," he says dryly. "Lala wants a caramel monstrosity that's more sugar than coffee."
Despite my embarrassment, I laugh. "You know her well."
"Unfortunately." He glances past me to where Lala is now animatedly chatting with Theo.
"She's the bane of my existence."
"And yet you know her exact order," I point out.
He narrows his eyes. "Don't read into that." Then, almost grudgingly, "What can I get you?"
I place our orders, then lean against the counter to wait, trying not to look back at the table where my friends and roommates are undoubtedly discussing me in my absence.
"Haven't seen you around before," says a voice to my left.
I turn to find a man about my age smiling at me. He's good-looking in a clean-cut way—sandy hair, nice smile, pleasant beta scent that carries notes of citrus and sage.
"I'm relatively new," I admit. "Moved here a few weeks ago."
"Lucky us," he says, his smile widening. "I'm Ben. I manage the winery tours at Elysian Fields Vineyard."
"Rowan," I reply, shaking his offered hand. "I work at Crystal Clear Florals."
"Ah, so you're the new talent Crystal's been bragging about. She says you have an eye for unusual arrangements."
I blink, surprised. "Crystal talks about me?"
"Only good things," he assures me. "Though she failed to mention how beautiful you are."
It's a cheesy line, but delivered with enough self-awareness to make me smile rather than cringe. And it's... nice, being flirted with by someone uncomplicated. Someone who doesn't make my heart race and my palms sweat and my omega instincts go haywire.
"Smooth," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Do the winery tour lines usually work for you?"
He laughs, a warm, genuine sound. "About sixty percent of the time. Am I batting average with you?"
"I'd say you're hovering around fifty-five percent," I reply, surprising myself with how easily the banter comes. "But I appreciate the effort."
Something crashes behind me, and I turn to see Jasper mopping up spilled coffee with a handful of napkins, his expression thunderous. Wells's knuckles are white around his mug, and even Theo looks less amused than he did moments ago.
Interesting.
"Your friends seem... intense," Ben observes mildly.
"Roommates," I correct automatically. "And yes, they have their moments."
"Roommates? As in, plural?" He glances at the three alphas again, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Ah. That's... an unusual living arrangement."
"It's temporary," I say, the words tasting bitter even as I speak them. "Just until I get settled."
"Well, if you're looking for something more permanent, I happen to know of a charming cottage for rent near the vineyard," he says. "It even has a little garden. Perfect for someone with your floral talents."
Before I can respond, Zeno returns with our order. "Four drinks for Rowan," he announces, setting down a tray.
"Let me help you with that," Ben offers, already reaching for the tray.
"I've got it," comes a gruff voice from behind me. Jasper materializes at my side, his expression closed off, his scent sharp with something that smells suspiciously like... jealousy?
"I was just offering to help," Ben says mildly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.
"She doesn't need your help," Jasper all but growls.
Oh my god. He's actually jealous. Over a harmless conversation with a beta who offered to carry coffee.
I should be annoyed by the possessive display. Instead, I feel a perverse thrill at seeing unflappable, standoffish Jasper so clearly bothered.
"Thank you, Ben," I say sweetly, ignoring Jasper's increasingly murderous expression. "It was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you at the festival tomorrow?"
"Count on it," Ben says with a smile, evidently braver than I gave him credit for, given the alpha glaring daggers at him. "Save me a dance at the evening celebration?"
"We'll see," I reply, deliberately noncommittal but with enough warmth to make my interest clear.
Ben takes his coffee from Zeno with a nod and heads out, but not before giving me one last smile over his shoulder.
The moment he's gone, Jasper rounds on me. "What was that?"
"What was what?" I ask innocently, picking up the coffee tray.
"That," he gestures vaguely toward the door where Ben exited. "With him."
"It's called a conversation, Jasper. People have them all the time."