Chapter 4 #3
“The pack can...” Her brain recalculated. Expanded. Adjusted scale. “Shoot, the pack can cover it! I can show them the plants, if they don’t know them, and how to take them and store them. Do you think they would mind?”
“They would not. And they only need to sniff what you need.”
“That’s it?”
“Please,” he said with a scoff. “I can smell Lachlan’s pissed-off before he says ‘Ye bloody furry arse,’ which only makes it more fun when—”
The table went quiet.
Dead silent.
“You can smell... feelings?”
He tried to shrug, but it came strangled. “I mean. In a way?”
So if he could smell all that... If he could smell everything, including feelings, then the little betrayals of her own body, all the times she’d been warmed up by him—plenty, oh so plenty and deeply—were suddenly shamefully, overwhelmingly obvious.
Every quickened breath.
Every spike of heat.
Every traitorous pulse low in her belly when he leaned too close.
She’d seen him casually sniff. Had he known? Had he always known?
Her stomach dropped so fast it was almost painful. There was no coming back from that kind of embarrassment. She wanted to vanish. Very much drop dead. Preferably immediately, before her face melted clean off.
He had the decency to glue his eyes to the menu as he cleared his throat. “So, um... I hear the meat pie is very good. Ever tried it?”
She stared at him.
Meat pie.
Meat pie.
He was giving her an exit. A bridge made up of pastry and ground meat.
There wasn’t going to be any smirk, or tease, or anything. He was pretending nothing had happened, protecting her pride the way he would protect her body. And that made it worse because now she was grateful, furious, and mortified all at once, and it was a lot to deal with on an empty stomach.
She straightened in her chair, fighting mad at herself and clawing at that lifeline for dear life. It was that, or get up and leave. “Yes,” she said, a little too quickly, then forced herself to breathe. “I mean. I’ve heard it’s good.”
Her fingers curled around her glass. “I suppose we should order it,” she added, aiming for composed and landing somewhere near strained academic.
She did not look at him when she said it.
If he smiled again, she might combust. And if he didn’t... She wasn’t sure which would be worse.
He didn’t smile, but he managed to make eye contact with a waiter and put in an order for their food.
Or she thought he had. Her ears were ringing a lot, so she was going to have a surprise for dinner, hopefully involving that meat pie.
When the waiter left, she excused herself and went to the bathroom because she really needed a moment with herself.
And, for the record, she did not eyeball the toilet to see if she could put her head in it and drown herself.
She thought about it, sure—briefly entertained the notion—but then she had a big-girl talk with the mirror and realized that her shop would be orphaned, so no.
No drowning in the bathroom. So, since there was literally nothing she could do short of running away—and on that subject, the bathroom windows were way too small for her hips—she would have to pretend like nothing happened.
Rex already showed her he wasn’t going to press it, so at this point, pivoting away was on her.
And pivot she would.
She marched back to their booth, sat, and completely ignored the pang of fluttered attraction when he smiled at her, almost apologetic, like her hormonal riot was somehow his fault.
Which, actually, kinda was, because he had no business looking like that, no business being like that, but she couldn’t really fault him much. Not too much, anyway.
Now, all she needed was a new topic that she could latch onto.
“You live at your grandfather’s house?”
And there he went again, the big bad wolf to the rescue.
She meant the smile this time and nodded.
“I do. It wouldn’t make sense to move, even though the house is a little too big for just me.
But he left it to me along with the shop, and.
..” She shrugged. “Those are all pieces of him I don’t feel like giving up. ”
“Some things are not meant to be given up.”
Do not melt. I repeat, ignore how he gets it.
And his mouth. Ignore it all. “I would love to finally clear the basement, though.” She winced, mentally seeing it.
“It’s full of mystery boxes that had been there since, possibly, 1985, each one heavier than the other and dusty, so I keep pushing it off. ”
“I can help.”
Her brain stalled. He—he would? He would help? Her pulse did a ridiculous jump. “That’s... that’s nice, but I think you’re busy enough as it is. I couldn’t ask you for more.”
He sighed. “Believe me, sometimes I need a non-pack afternoon.” He looked at her, and damn it, he seemed earnest despite the shrug. “I’d love to help.”
Keep cool. Keep it together. Just nod. Maybe breathe. “Then I’ll accept. Might be the time I finally get my ducks in line and clean that nightmare.”
And she wouldn’t do it alone. Jade would absolutely come and help, but this was personal and... that basement had been in the same state for as long as she could remember, and cleaning it felt like cleaning away part of her grandpa, no matter if it was a health hazard.
“You don’t have to throw away anything,” he said gently, as if he’d read her mind—or smelled her emotions. “We’ll just see what’s in there, make sense of it, and clear up the dust.”
She ignored the sudden knot in her throat, nodded, and was saved by the waiter bringing their food. Her meat pie, and another one for him. With a side of steak as big as her head.
God, he’s actually going to eat all that? Her eyes flicked to him. No. Don’t stare. Not at his hands. Don’t... Why does he look that good?
“I eat a lot,” he said with a self-aware chuckle, taking in her stare.
“Is that a wolf thing or a you thing?”
“Little of both. We burn through energy faster, but I’m also...”
“Big?” she offered, then swallowed hard when she realized what her comment could imply.
“That.”
“Is that why you’re the Alpha?”
She took a bite of the pie. It was, indeed, exceptionally good. Focus on the pie. The pie is safe.
“Not only.” He cut into his steak like he meant business. “Strength matters. You can’t protect anyone if you can’t stand your ground. And let’s face it, we can be... temperamental. You need to be able to break up fights and kick butts every now and then.”
She watched him carefully now, because there was something fascinating about the solidity of him. Not just physical—emotional. How does someone just... hold it together like that, as if whatever was going to come at him, he would deal with no fuss? “But it’s not only that,” she added.
“No. Tempers, grief, bad decisions—you name it. No matter what goes wrong, everyone looks at you. If you panic, they panic. But if you stand, then they’ll stand with you.”
“So you stand.”
“I do. My pack relies on it. The best Alpha isn’t necessarily the biggest, it’s the one who can serve the pack best.”
No arrogance, no chest-thumping, just knowing your place in the world and what it meant. She almost—almost—forgot to breathe, then remembered. And the pie.
He glanced at her, a cheeky smile on his lips. “Being big also helps when you need to move heavy stuff from basements.”
She chuckled, teasing back, “I’ll make sure there’s enough meat ready for you when you show up.”
The conversation drifted, effortlessly, to familiar things.
The strange customer who made her roll her eyes.
The tale of when a cat, not hers nor anyone’s she knew, got stuck in a box meant for shipping.
Local news. Somehow, they ended up talking about books—what they loved as kids, which opened up a treasure box of memories from both their early years.
Regrets, music... topics just seemed to chase one another, and they were both all too happy to go with them.
She liked how he never tried to take hold of the conversation but shared it with her, thoughtful, funny, and solid. More drinks followed long after the empty plates were cleared.
The conversation slowed after yet another round, a comfortable pause that stretched long enough for her to notice how his eyes caught the light, how his fingers drummed absently on the table, and how she felt both calm and wired all at once.
And all the while, her thoughts ping-ponged from admiration for how solid he seemed, to disbelief that she was sitting here laughing and talking with him like this, to that faint edge of fear—what if he knew exactly how much she was loving all of it just from a sniff?
The hour passed with ease. Drinks refilled, stories swapped, laughter spilled into quiet lulls, and she realized she hadn’t once felt the need to check her phone or think about anything else.
That was, until Rob walked in.
“Hey, Zoe.” He leaned slightly against the edge of the booth, one hand resting on the tableback, a wide grin on his face. “It’s been a while. How are things?”
“Same old.” She gestured to Rex. “You know Rex?”
Rob nodded at him. “Hey, man.” Then turned back to her. “What are you up to? The shop’s still going strong, right?”
Okay, while Rob was cute in a good old-boy kind of way—a way she’d once found endearing—he was Rob. She sighed.“The shop is... going strong, yes.”
“We need to hang out sometime. Good old times, right?” He reached to tweak one of her curls, and something inside her hissed. Why was he touching her?
Rex sniffed the air—not subtly. His fingers curled into a fist. A low, slow growl rumbled from him, vibrating through the table. When she glanced at Rex, he looked like he was about to shred good old Rob. She wouldn’t be completely opposed, honestly.
Rob, being Rob, didn’t read the room. He pushed her hair behind her shoulder, and she scooted away on the bench, putting as much distance as possible between her and Rob, praying he would take the hint and leave.
He didn’t. He so didn’t. He plopped down beside her instead.
She cleared her throat, inhaling deeply to remind herself she was a patient person—lie—and that he was not the brightest—truth.
“Look, Rob, it’s nice to see you, but I’m having dinner alone with a friend, and I’d like to keep it that way. ”
He bumped his shoulder on hers, then proceeded to, once again, touch her hair. “Oh, come on. I–”
“Leave. Now.”
That had been Rex, his voice a threat wrapped in menace, darker than the night outside, a run-and-never-look-back kind of tone.
Rob got it. Finally. His eyes widened for a heartbeat, and he swallowed. “Sure. I mean... sure. It was just nice to see you and–”
Rex spoke again, even more menacing this time. “Tick. Tock.”
Jesus. That’s terrifying.
One second flat, and Rob was gone, leaving her at the table with Rex and a million questions she didn’t know how to start asking.
“He was bothering you,” Rex said, his growl mostly under control, still clinching his hand.
She sipped some lemonade, mostly to buy a moment. “He kind of was, yes. But I’m not sure your reaction was proportional to the offense here.”
“He had–” He swallowed. He did that a lot. “Ideas.”
“How do you even know?”
“I smelled it on him.”
“Oh. My. God.” Irritation sharpened her voice. “Don’t you think that’s a little, I don’t know, overstepping? What if I had ideas too?”
“You did not. Not with him.”
She pushed her glass away as a new wave of embarrassment, exasperation, and unwanted flustered heat hit her. “We need a moment to breathe.”
“Zoe, I–”
“No. While I appreciate your help, there’s only so much mortification I can handle in one night.” She fished out her wallet and dropped money on the table. “Thank you for your help with the herbs. And... yeah. Bye.”
And she left in a hurry, swearing that if Rob was anywhere near the parking lot, she was going to deck him.