Chapter 4 Davin
Chapter four
Davin
The roads cleared overnight. I load tools and measuring equipment into the truck bed, my breath fogging white in the cold morning air.
The engine rumbles to life, and frost glitters on the windshield before the defroster clears it away.
Tilly locks the cabin door behind us, wearing jeans and my flannel over her sweater, beneath her coat.
Seeing my shirt peeking out beneath her coat tightens every muscle in my shoulders, but I keep my hands on the tailgate instead of reaching for her.
“We need to stop at the hardware store,” she says, climbing into the passenger seat. “And I should check in with Mika about the opening timeline. She said she could help me promote it.”
“We’ll hit the Waffle Den first. Get breakfast, handle town business, then the shop.” I start the engine and pull onto the mountain road. “You didn’t eat enough this morning.”
Her mouth opens like she’s going to argue, then closes. “You’re very observant.”
“I pay attention.” My hand finds her thigh, thumb stroking across the denim. “Especially to you.”
The drive down takes twenty minutes. Snow covers everything. The town’s already awake, with trucks parked at the hardware store, smoke curling from chimneys, people bundled in coats moving between shops.
I park in front of the Waffle Den and come around to open her door. She takes my offered hand, and I don’t let go when her boots hit the pavement. I lace our fingers together and guide her toward the entrance, my palm solid against hers.
The bell chimes as we enter. Heat and the smell of coffee and bacon hit immediately. The place is packed with the breakfast rush in full swing. Mabel stands behind the counter pouring coffee, and her eyes track to us the moment we walk through the door.
“Hello there,” she calls out. “Look who finally came down from the mountain.”
Every head in the diner turns. Tilly tenses beside me, her fingers tightening around mine. I stroke her knuckles and guide her to a booth near the back. I slide in beside her instead of across, my thigh pressing against hers, my arm going across the back of the seat behind her shoulders.
Mabel appears with two mugs and a coffee pot. “Storm treat you two okay?”
“Fine,” I say. “Roads just cleared this morning.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her smile is knowing. “I’ll bet they did. What can I get you?”
“Two breakfast specials. Extra bacon on hers.” I glance at Tilly. “And a waffle. Heart-shaped if you’ve got them.”
Tilly’s eyes widen slightly, but Mabel just grins. “Coming right up.”
She disappears, and Tilly turns to me. “I could’ve ordered for myself.”
“I know. But I also know you’ll order toast and call it enough.” I pour cream into her coffee the way she likes it. “You need real food.”
“Bossy.”
“You love it.” I lean closer, my mouth near her ear. “And you’re going to eat every bite.”
Her breath catches. The flush rising in her cheeks makes pride settle solidly in my bones.
Evelyn Hartwood sweeps through the door with the mayor trailing behind her. She spots us immediately and changes trajectory, heels clicking across the floor.
“Davin. Tilly.” She slides into the booth across from us, and the mayor settles beside her with the resigned expression of a man who’s learned not to argue. “How was the cabin? Cozy, I hope?”
“It was fine,” Tilly says. Her voice is steady, but tension radiates from her shoulders.
“I’m sure it was.” Evelyn’s smile sharpens. “The whole town’s been talking about how you two disappeared during the storm. Very romantic.”
“We got snowed in,” I say, my tone flat. “Not much romance about being stuck.”
“Of course not.” But her eyes say she doesn’t believe a word. “Tilly, how are the shop preparations coming? Big opening in less than two weeks.”
“Good. We’re finalizing the layout today.”
“We?” Evelyn’s gaze flicks between us. “How helpful.”
The bell chimes again. Claire walks through the door, and my jaw tightens. She scans the diner, spots us, and her expression shifts into something calculating. She crosses directly to our booth.
“Davin. Tilly.” She doesn’t wait for an invitation before speaking. “I heard you two have been spending time together. How... nice.”
Tilly’s spine goes rigid beside me. I slide my arm from the back of the booth to her shoulders, my hand settling possessively at the curve of her neck. My thumb strokes the soft skin there, grounding her.
“It is nice,” I say, mocking her. “It’s also inevitable.”
Claire’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Well, Davin, I hope you’re not neglecting your other commitments. The town relies on your craftsmanship. It would be a shame if you got... distracted.”
“I don’t get distracted.” I hold her gaze until she looks away first. “And Tilly’s not a distraction. She’s my priority.”
The words land heavily in the sudden quiet. Conversations around us pause. Mabel freezes mid-pour at the next table.
Claire recovers quickly. “How sweet. Though I have to wonder—” She turns to Tilly. “Are you sure this is wise? Opening a vintage shop in Lovesbury? The market’s pretty limited. Wouldn’t want you to invest all that time and money only to fail.”
Tilly starts to pull inward, to shrink, and everything in me goes cold and focused.
“She’s not going to fail.” My voice doesn’t rise, but it cuts through the diner like a blade. “Tilly’s done her research. She’s planned every detail. She’s building something real here, and she’s got the skill and determination to make it work.”
I lean forward slightly, and Claire takes an involuntary step back. “And she’s not doing it alone. She’s got help. She’s got support. She’s got me.”
The claim hangs in the air, absolute and unshakeable.
Claire’s mouth opens, then closes. She forces a smile. “Of course. I’m sure it will be lovely. Good luck with the opening.”
She retreats to a table on the far side of the diner. The conversations resume slowly, quieter now, weighted with certainty.
Evelyn’s eyes gleam with satisfaction. “Well. That was quite the declaration.”
“It was the truth.” I don’t look away from Tilly. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed. “Tilly’s building her dream here. Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me.”
“I don’t think anyone will,” Evelyn says. She slides out of the booth, pulling the mayor with her. “Come along, dear. I think we’ve witnessed enough Valentine’s Day bachelor auction success for one morning.”
They disappear toward the counter, and I turn my full attention to Tilly. Her hand has found my thigh under the table, fingers gripping tightly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says quietly.
“Yes, I did.” I cup her jaw, tilting her face up. “You’re mine, Tilly. That means when someone questions you, they’re questioning me. And I don’t let that stand.”
“I’m yours?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Yeah. You are.” My thumb strokes across her cheekbone. “Have been since the auction. Thought you knew that.”
“I hoped.” Her eyes search mine. “But hearing you say it in front of everyone—”
“Made it real.” I lean closer, my forehead touching hers. “The town knows now. No more questions. No more doubt.”
Mabel appears with our plates, setting them down with a knowing smile. “Enjoy your breakfast, you two. On the house.”
“Mabel—”
“Don’t argue. Consider it a congratulations.” She winks and disappears.
We eat in comfortable silence, the tension from Claire’s appearance fading. Tilly finishes her entire plate, and pride settles deep as she takes care of herself.
By the time we leave, the sun’s climbed higher, warming the air. I guide her to the truck with my hand on her lower back, and I’m acutely aware of eyes tracking us from the diner windows.
“Everyone’s watching,” she murmurs.
“Good. Let them watch.” I open her door and wait until she’s settled before closing it. When I slide into the driver’s seat, her hand finds mine immediately.
We drive to her shop in silence thick with promise. The public claim has shifted things, made the private certainty between us visible to the world. By the time I park in front of her storefront, anticipation hums under my skin.
Inside, the shop is cold and feels empty. I flip the lights on while she sets her bag on the counter. When I turn, she’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“What?” I ask.
“Thank you.” She crosses to me, her hands sliding up my chest. “For defending me. For claiming me. For making me feel like I matter.”
“You do matter.” I frame her face with my palms. “More than anything.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me. The contact is soft at first, tentative, then deepens into something hungry. My hands slide into her hair, angling her head for better access. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat that sends heat straight to my cock.
I pull back before I take more than she’s ready to give here. “Not in the shop.”
“Why not?” Her lips are swollen, her eyes dark.
“Because when I have you again, I’m taking my time. And I can’t do that here.” I stroke my thumb across her bottom lip. “Tonight. At the cabin. I’ll teach your body what it means to belong to me.”
The promise hangs between us, heavy with intent. Her pupils blow wide.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Tonight.”
“Tonight.” I release her and step back, putting the necessary distance between us. “Right now, show me what needs measuring.”
She blinks, clearly struggling to shift gears. Then she laughs, the sound spilling free. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m focused.” I pull out my tape measure. “And right now, I’m focused on making sure your shop is perfect.”
We spend hours measuring and planning. The tape measure clicks and retracts with each wall section.
Her pen scratches notes across paper, and her footsteps echo on the wood floor as she paces between display areas.
I mark walls for the floating shelves, confirm the armoire placement, sketch modifications for the display cases.
She directs with growing confidence, her vision becoming clearer as we work.
She knows exactly what she wants. Most people second-guess themselves into paralysis, but she makes decisions and moves forward.
By early afternoon, we’ve mapped everything. The shop layout is finalized, ready for execution.
“This is really happening,” she says, looking around the space. “In two weeks, this will be open.”
“It is. And it’s going to be exactly what you envisioned.” I close the distance and pull her against me. “Because you’re brilliant, and determined, and you don’t give up.”
She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her face against my chest. “I’m scared.”
“I know. But you’re not alone.” I stroke my hand along her spine. “You’ve got me. And I’m not going anywhere.”
We stand wrapped in each other while the afternoon light fills the shop. Outside, the town continues its rhythm. In this space, we’re creating something real that won’t disappear.
“Let’s go home,” I say finally.
She pulls back and looks up at me. “Home?”
“The cabin. Our space.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Where I can show you properly what it means to be claimed.”
Heat floods her cheeks. “Okay.”
The drive back up the mountain feels heavy with anticipation. My hand stays on her thigh the whole drive. By the time I park at the cabin, the sun’s starting its descent behind the peaks.