36. Rosie
Chapter 36
Rosie
T he band finishes their set to cheers.
Quinn whistles beside me before throwing an infectious grin my way. “They’re good! More punk than I thought I would find?—”
“In the sticks?” I tease, a little breathless from dancing.
Quinn laughs. “I didn’t say that exactly.”
“You didn’t have to. I’m sure this is an adjustment from the city. You never did explain why you guys decided to move.”
From our online friendship, I know that Quinn grew up in a city out west and their pack owned a condo there. Knotty Pines is probably a bit of a culture shock.
Quinn walks toward the deck railing overlooking the river with a hand on my back. As we get farther down the deck, the night insects muffle the bar’s hum, and the breeze cools my heated skin.
He leans against the wood, turning to face me. “The move wasn’t planned. Dane came home one day and told us he wanted to take the job here. It took some negotiating, but other than finishing my residency, there wasn’t anything keeping us there.”
“Why here? He could have gone to coach anywhere. I don’t follow football and even I know Colton won the championship.” I give Quinn a look, encouraging him to go on.
He’s quiet, and I think that maybe I’ve overstepped. As I’m about to apologize, he says, “I asked myself that thousands of times before I got here.”
“Then you got pulled into my emergency,” I say, playfully nudging his arm.
“And ever since, I haven’t asked myself that question at all.” He eyes me pointedly, making my pulse jump.
Maybe he’s sold on the notion of fate, but I need more. Not with him, but he’s not on his own. We’re talking pack, and I want to understand this one. “I still want to know—why here?”
Quinn gives me a smile, but it’s dim. “We needed a change. Dane was frustrated with coaching at Colton. The team management and university PR people used his popularity, sending him for photo shoots and interviews instead of letting him get time on the field with players. There was all this speculation over a broadcasting contract he didn’t want and…” He looks at his feet, shuffling before meeting my eyes. “We all had reasons for wanting to put down roots. But I think Dane was homesick for longer than I probably knew. I figured it was just the stress of the season… but I didn’t realize how much it was affecting him. After we decided to move here, it was like a weight I didn’t know he’d been carrying was lifted.”
I take in his explanation as I look at the river.“That’s a lot for all of you.”
He leans in, his nose nudging mine. “I think here has all we need.”
Before I can process his words, his lips brush mine. I don’t know how he does it, but his kiss is hot enough to set me on fire while also comforting me.
His hand snakes around my waist, and he tugs me closer, burying his head near my neck. “Gods, you smell so freaking good. It makes me want to do very naughty things to you.”
“Later.” I laugh, breaking from his hold and tugging on his hand.
Bambi waves me over to the large high-top by the bar where our two groups have gathered. I slip onto a stool beside Dane and across from her.
“You two looked good together out there,” Dane murmurs before turning back to the conversation.
Nash gives up his seat for Quinn, heading toward the bar. I follow him with my eyes, thinking about how delicious he looks with his wavy hair styled and the tight white T-shirt he’s wearing.
“The band was great,” I tell Bambi.
“Yeah. Jace has been working on bringing in something other than covers,” she explains, leaning into the alpha as he whispers something in her ear.
Quinn asks Jace a question about the band, and they get started down the same rabbit hole I’ve been on with him about indie music. Even as Quinn argues with Jace on the merits of some EMD artist, his thumb slowly brushes along my knee.
Nash returns with water for Quinn and me, giving us both a look that says drink. Quinn and I share a grin around straws as Nash settles behind me, a palm to my back.
I’m nestled between the three of them, and a little thrill races through me at the realization of how natural this is. I can admit to myself that I’ve felt moments of envy for what Bambi has. Not that I would ever begrudge her a pack, nor do I want her pack for myself. What I wanted was the obvious connection she shares with her men—the easy touches and endless familiarity—but I never really thought I’d get it.
My nerves seem to fizzle in my stomach, little Pop Rocks hopping around in excitement with the realization that I might have that kind of future with these men. I’ve never been with guys who can’t keep their hands off me. I keep teasing Dane about his ego, but I had better watch out. The way they communicate with touch might cause me to glow.
Some of it is sexual, but a lot of it is just quick nudges or comforting touches. A hand on my waist or back always steadies me and makes me feel desired and safe. It’s soothing—like a physical reminder of our connection. I wonder if that’s what a bond would be like.
Leaning back against Nash, I close my eyes as the talk around the table turns to the upcoming Spring Fling football game. I swear, in Knotty Pines, high school football is an unavoidable topic.Even in the offseason, our town is still obsessed. The Spring Fling game, which is only an exhibition game to showcase next year’s talent, is all anyone seems to be talking about, and the damn thing doesn’t even count. I still love football, but I don’t follow it like I used to. It’s weird, but I kind of miss it.
Nash caresses down my spine in sweeping circles. It all catches up with me then—the long morning at Lakeside Oaks with Grandma for her physical therapy followed by an afternoon of searching for the records Dane’s dad needs. I’m grateful for his dad’s willingness to help and for Dane’s suggestion that we take tonight to unwind, but I’m also beat.
Bambi’s excited voice rings out above the others a few moments later, drawing my attention back to her. “I want a float for the shop. Is that a thing?”
Dane answers, “I think all you do is register.”
I crack one eye open. “We’re not doing a float. That’s the opposite of a high school reunion boycott!”
Bambi bounces. “I’m not saying reunion. But the Founder’s Day stuff involves the whole town, and the theme is decades!”
“What decade are we talking about?” I hedge, not sold on this idea. My mission is to avoid, not join.
“Does it matter? You know you commit to a theme. Remember that Halloween party where you went as a dark fairy and made your shoes leave butterfly glitter prints! That was epic.”
Nash cuts in with a laugh to ask about the glitter, and Bambi ends up on a side quest telling him about the science I rigged into that outfit. I may love a good theme, but that costume's price was steep, and there was glitter in unnatural places for weeks.
Bambi’s eyes turn back to me, a dare on her face. “Could we not make the most fabulous float ever? What if we get some of the other folks on our side of town to do it too? Just think of the things you can do with disco!”
Quinn turns to me, his expression thoughtful. “What if you make the art? You could design the float?—”
“But you don’t have to ride on it or even go,” Bambi finishes.
Designing it does sound like a challenge, and Bambi is right that I love a good theme. What I don’t love are run-ins with my cousin, like the one I had earlier this week.
Except a small voice inside reminds me that the chance of seeing her or one of her groupies shouldn’t keep me from doing it. That’s letting her win.
I look around the table, realizing I won’t be facing them alone either. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Bambi says before taking a sip from her beer. “I don’t want to pressure you if it’s a serious no. But if it’s not… I think we could pool our collections for different decades?—"
“And create a psychedelic dream that would make Grandma Lily’s bridge club proud,” I add, thawing a little. The gears start turning, my mind already racing with ideas.
Nash leans in, saying quietly, “Whatever you decide, we’ll back you. But say the word, we’ll build it.”
“And make Dane’s float and repair my grandma’s house?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“That sounds like a challenge, baby,” he says, his beard tickling my neck. The move short-circuits my brain. When his lips are that close to my skin, I forget all common sense.
The band comes back from their break, and the conversation quickly fizzles with the return of the loud music. Nash asks Quinn and me to dance, but I’m too wiped. I send them off and excuse myself to the bathroom.
Dane doesn’t say anything but falls in step beside me, acting as an escort. A sweetly spiced apple made rich and warm with worn-in leather curls around me. He’s all alpha with a steady hand to my back, his stance protective and his eyes watchful as we move through the crowded bar. I love the way it makes me feel protected.
When I’m finished, his hand finds my back again, leading me in the opposite direction of our table.
“I think I’m too pooped to dance again,” I admit, giving him a sheepish expression.
“That’s good because I wasn’t going to the dance floor,” he assures me.
Intrigued, I let him guide me through the busy bar. We get some looks. The alpha from earlier is with a big crowd all jammed into a few tables. I spot Marigold’s friend Lindsey among the group, her face etched in shock when she recognizes me. She waves me over, but I duck into Dane’s side, pretending I don’t see her.
Dane eyes me with concern. “What is it?” he asks, circling his arm around me.
“Just a friend of my cousin’s over there I want to avoid.”
Dane doesn’t ask me to elaborate, but he tosses a look over his shoulder, and a deep rumble sparks from his chest. “Noted, sweetheart.”
Outside, this end of the deck is farther away from the band. We take the stairs down to the first level, which is closer to the river. Dane clasps my hand once we get to the dock and leads me to the end, where four Adirondack chairs sit facing the water.
“How did you know these were here?”
“I asked Jace if there was a quiet spot.” Dane leans back in one of the large wooden chairs, holding open his arms.
I hesitate before deciding to indulge him. He pulls me onto his lap, helping me get my legs situated across him.Even after days at the house with him, Dane still makes me nervous, and I tense awkwardly. My body seems to have lost its ability to appear natural.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he says as one of his big paws wraps around my side.
My head falls to his chest, and his purr rumbles soft and low.I focus on my breathing, letting the combination of his scent and purr slow my racing heart. Staring at the calm river and the dark bank of trees on the other side, my muscles begin to unlock.
The way Dane exudes steadiness makes me curl into him, and I surrender the fight, deciding to let him stand guard for a while. When I allow myself to give in to my instincts, being in his arms feels like the most natural thing in the world. I relax enough that I regain my curiosity, turning my face up to study him.