Chapter 16 Theo
SIXTEEN
THEO
The woodworking shop smelled like cedar and sawdust and the specific frustration of a man who’d been sanding the same piece of maple for an hour.
Theo’s hands moved automatically over the wood, smoothing grain that was already smooth, while his mind circled the same problem it had been circling for three days.
Avine.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Dark hair. Brown eyes. The echo of her magic against his.
“So…” Beck trailed off.
“I’m making a table.”
“Pretty sure at this point it’s a metaphor.” Beck crunched a nut. “Let me guess. You’re out here not thinking about the innkeeper.”
“I’m not—”
“You’ve been monitoring her wards from your phone like it’s a newborn baby monitor.
You drove past her inn twice yesterday. And you haven’t dated anyone in the three years since you’ve been back, but suddenly you’ve got that look.
” Beck grinned. “The look of a man who’s about to do a spectacularly stupid thing. ”
“I don’t have a look.”
“You absolutely have a look. It’s somewhere between ‘I should stay away’ and ‘I physically cannot stay away.’ Very tortured. Very alpha romance novel.”
Theo set down the sandpaper. He wasn’t going to win this argument, and they both knew it. Beck had known him since they were pups; lying to him was pointless.
“You should stay away,” Beck continued, reading his silence. “Pack politics. Coven dynamics. The fact that half the Elders think the mating surge is going to cause the apocalypse. Very sensible to maintain distance.”
“But?”
“But you’re miserable. And you’ve been miserable for years, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.” Beck’s voice lost its teasing edge. “Ask her to dinner. Tell her it’s a strategy meeting. She’ll see through it, but at least you’ll have plausible deniability.”
“That’s your advice? Lie to her?”
“I’m saying give yourself an excuse to spend time with her. The truth can come later.” Beck hopped off the workbench. “Or you can keep sanding that table until there’s nothing left. Your call.”
He paused at the door, his easy manner shifting. “Be careful, yeah? You know Garrett.”
Theo stirred, hackles rising at the mention of his cousin. “Garrett can—”
“I know what Garrett can do.” Beck’s grin returned, sharper now. “I’m saying, if you’re going to pursue the witch, do it with your eyes open. Your cousin’s not going to let an opportunity like this pass without comment.”
“Garrett’s my problem, not yours.”
“Always do.” Beck was gone before Theo could respond.
Theo looked down at the maple. He’d sanded it so thin he could almost see through it.
He reached for his phone.
She answered on the third ring. “Theo.”
Her voice. No surprise, no confusion. Like she’d been expecting his call.
Something in him perked up at the sound, which was deeply unhelpful.
“I wanted to discuss the ward maintenance schedule.” The words came out stiff. Formal. Exactly like a man who was definitely not asking someone on a date. “Tonight? Seven?”
Silence. Then a soft laugh that stirred heat low in his stomach. “The ward maintenance schedule. I’ll meet you at Vito’s.”
She hung up. Theo stared at his phone for a long moment, feeling like he’d agreed to a great deal more than dinner.
His wolf was practically vibrating with satisfaction.
He went home to change anyway.
Avine opened the door at exactly seven o’clock, and Theo’s carefully constructed composure crumbled.
She was wearing a deep green dress that shouldn’t have been remarkable—simple cut, modest neckline—but made his mouth go dry.
Her dark hair was down, loose waves falling past her shoulders instead of the practical twist she usually wore.
And her eyes—some kind of makeup made them look even bigger, even more arresting.
“You found a shirt without sawdust.” Her lips curved. “I’m impressed.”
Theo looked down at himself—dark jeans, a gray Henley that Beck claimed brought out his eyes, and boots that were actually clean for once. “Special occasion.”
“Ward maintenance discussion.”
“Very serious business.”
She grabbed a light jacket and stepped onto the porch, pulling the inn’s door shut behind her. The wards hummed in recognition—their combined magic, stable and strong. Theo felt it like a handshake, a greeting.
“Ready?” He offered his arm, then felt ridiculous.
They walked to his truck in silence. Not awkward—expectant. The air between them was charged with everything they weren’t saying.
Vito’s by the Sea occupied a converted warehouse at the edge of the harbor, all exposed brick and twinkle lights strung across rafters.
The smell hit Theo as soon as they walked in: garlic, basil, fresh bread, and the particular yeasty heat of a kitchen that had been producing miracles for three generations.
Mismatched tables filled the space, no two alike—scarred wooden farm tables next to marble bistro tops next to what appeared to be a repurposed door balanced on sawhorses.
Candles flickered in wine bottles, their wax dripped into abstract sculptures from years of dinners.
The walls were covered in photographs: generations of Marinis, famous visitors, local fishing boats, and at least three images of Vito holding truly enormous fish.
The dining room was packed, tables crowded with families and couples and groups of friends all talking over each other in the cheerful chaos that was Vito’s trademark.
Somewhere in the back, a wine bottle popped.
A child shrieked with delight, chased by an older sibling between tables while their parents pretended not to notice.
“ALPHA!” The shout came from behind the bar, where a massive man with a graying mane of hair was pouring drinks with practiced ease. Vito Marini. Lion shifter, restaurateur, and the most aggressively hospitable person Theo had ever met.
Vito abandoned his bartending duties and descended on them with arms spread wide. “You bring a guest! A beautiful guest! Bella! BELLA! Come see!”
A woman emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron liberally splattered with tomato sauce. Bella Marini was shorter than her husband but twice as intimidating, with sharp dark eyes that missed nothing and a smile that could charm the surly out of anyone.
“The innkeeper!” Bella clasped Avine’s hands before Theo could make introductions.
“We’ve heard so much about you. The whole town is talking.
You’re the one who made the wards sing, yes?
Sue Tidewell’s niece?” Without waiting for answers, she was already steering Avine toward the back of the restaurant.
“Come, come. We have a special table. Very private. Very romantic.”
Theo started to protest. “It’s not—”
“Our Alpha finally brings a woman to dinner!” Vito clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to stagger a lesser man. “This is a celebration! We’ll bring the good wine. The very good wine.”
The corner booth was, as promised, private—tucked away from the main dining room, lit by candles that Theo definitely hadn’t requested but wasn’t going to complain about. Avine slid onto the leather seat, her expression caught somewhere between amused and overwhelmed.
“They’re…” She searched for the word.
“A lot.” Theo sat across from her. “But the food is worth it.”
“They seem to like you.”
“They like everyone. It’s their thing.” He paused. “Though they’ve never called me romantic before.”
“To be fair, you did ask me to discuss ward maintenance schedules over candlelit Italian food.”
“The candles were their idea.”
“The dinner was yours.”
He didn’t have a response to that. She was right. This was his terrible idea, and now he was sitting across from her in candlelight while lion shifters plotted to feed them into submission.
Bella reappeared with wine, bread, and three dishes Theo hadn’t ordered.
“For the pretty witch!” She set each plate down with ceremonial flair. “You’re too skinny. Our Alpha needs a woman with strength. Eat, eat!”
“Bella—” Theo tried.
“Shh.” She waved him off and turned to Avine with a conspiratorial lean. “Our Alpha has nice shoulders, yes? Very strong. Good for carrying things. Good for other things too, if you understand.” She winked with zero subtlety.
Avine choked on her wine.
“Vito!” Theo snapped out.
Vito appeared instantly, all innocent confusion. “What? What did she say?”
“Control your mate.”
“Control Bella?” Vito laughed—a huge, booming sound that turned heads across the restaurant. “Forty years and I still don’t know how. Come, tesoro, let the children have their dinner.”
Bella allowed herself to be led away, but not before shooting Avine another significant look and mouthing: “Very strong.”
Silence fell over the table. Then Avine laughed—not polite, not restrained, but a full, genuine laugh that made his ribs ache.
“Your shoulders.” She managed. “Very good for carrying things.”
“I’m going to kill them both.”
“Don’t you dare. I love them.” She was still laughing, her gaze bright with it. “This is the best ward maintenance meeting I’ve ever had.”
Despite himself, Theo felt his mouth curve. “We haven’t discussed a single ward.”
“Terrible oversight. We should probably start.”
“Or we could eat.” He gestured at the spread Bella had left. “Before she comes back and force-feeds us.”
Avine reached for the bread. “I like your strategy.”