Chapter 7 Liam #4
"I was. I mean, I am. I used to do freelance marketing copy, web content, stuff like that. But I haven't worked in years, and I lost all my clients when..." She trails off, but I can fill in the blanks. When her ex destroyed her life.
"What kind of writing do you enjoy most?"
"I love feature articles. Human interest stories, community profiles, stuff like that. There's something about finding the heart of a story and sharing it with people... it makes me feel useful. Like I'm contributing something meaningful."
The excitement in her tone when she talks about writing is unmistakable. Her smell brightens too, those vanilla and honey notes blooming with genuine passion.
And just like this, I have an idea.
"What if I told you there might be a way to combine your writing skills with helping the clinic?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Cedar Ridge doesn't exactly have a strong online presence.
Most of our businesses barely have websites, and the few we do have aren't exactly compelling.
But what if someone were to write feature articles about our little town?
Showcase the businesses, the people, the charm of mountain life? "
I can see her mind working, the wheels turning as she considers the possibilities.
"Like travel writing? Destination pieces?"
"Exactly. And if those articles happened to mention the excellent veterinary care available at Mairi Veterinary Services, or the amazing baked goods at Rise & Shine, or the outstanding mechanical work at Bradley's Garage..."
"Content marketing," she says, and there's genuine excitement building in her tone now. "Creating articles promoting the businesses while providing valuable content to readers."
"I'm suggesting we use your talents to help this community struggling economically for years. Tourism could be a real game-changer for Cedar Ridge, but people need to know we exist first."
"Hell yes," she says with a big grin.
Then she's moving, launching herself at me before I can prepare. Her arms wrap around my neck, her body colliding with mine in a hug that's all enthusiasm and gratitude and pure joy.
I catch her automatically, hands settling on her waist to steady us both. She's warm and soft against me, her scent surrounding me completely. Vanilla and honey and something that's just her, making my alpha purr with satisfaction.
"Thank you," she says against my shoulder, her breath warm through my shirt. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
I should step back. Put distance between us before I do something stupid.
Instead, I pull back just enough to see her face. She's looking up at me, eyes bright with happiness, lips curved in that radiant smile. So close I can see the flecks of lighter blue in her eyes, can count the freckles across her nose.
My hand slides up from her waist, slow and deliberate, giving her time to pull away. She doesn't. My palm cups her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin. She's so soft. Her breath catches, and I watch her pupils dilate.
"Liam," she whispers, and my name on her lips breaks the last of my control.
I lean in, giving her every chance to stop me. She doesn't move away. Doesn't protest. Just tilts her face up, her eyes fluttering closed.
When my lips finally touch hers, it's gentle at first. Tentative. Testing. But she makes a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and melts into me.
And I'm lost.
My other hand slides into her hair as I deepen the kiss. She tastes like coffee and something sweet, and it's intoxicating. Her fingers tangle in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I press her back against the desk, needing more contact, more of her.
She opens for me and the kiss turns hungry. Desperate. Her hands slide up my chest to my shoulders, then into my hair, tugging gently. The sensation sends heat straight through me.
This is wrong. This is so wrong.
The thought cuts through the haze and I jerk back, stumbling away from her. My chest is heaving, my hands shaking.
"God, I'm sorry." My voice comes out rough. "I shouldn't have done that. That was completely inappropriate."
She's leaning against the desk, breathing hard. Her lips are swollen, her eyes dazed. "Liam..."
"I've been wanting to do that all day," I admit. "But I shouldn't have. You're vulnerable, you just escaped an abusive relationship, and here I am taking advantage of you."
"Don't stop," she interrupts, her voice barely above a whisper.
I freeze. Stare at her. "What?"
"Don't stop." She pushes off the desk, taking a step toward me. Her eyes are dark, determined. "Kiss me again."
Every instinct screams at me to close the distance. To pull her back into my arms and finish what we started.
But I can't.
"Violet." I force myself to stay still even though it physically hurts. "I can't take advantage of you like this. You need this job. You need stability. And I'm your employer. This isn't right."
She stops, something like understanding crossing her face. The heat in her eyes dims slightly. "You're right. I know you're right."
"The timing is terrible," I continue, as much for myself as for her. "You just got here. You're still healing from what he did to you. Getting involved with me, with any of us, it would be too much, too soon."
"I know." She wraps her arms around herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"Don't apologize. You have nothing to apologize for." I take a breath, trying to steady myself. "I kissed you. That was my choice. My mistake."
"It didn't feel like a mistake," she says quietly.
That makes it worse. Because she's right. It didn't feel like a mistake. It felt perfect.
"We should go," I say. "It's getting late."
She nods, gathering her things in silence. We lock up and step out into the cool evening air. The walk back to the bakery is quiet, the air between us charged with everything we're not saying.
"Thank you," she says when we reach the bakery door. "For everything today. The job, the writing idea, the... everything."
"You're welcome." I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's another day."
She disappears inside and I stand there, staring at the closed door.
That kiss. I can't get it out of my mind.
The way she felt in my arms. The sound she made when I deepened the kiss. The way her fingers felt in my hair. The taste of her on my lips.
I turn and head home, but it doesn't help.
Because all I can think about is how she told me not to stop.
And how badly I wanted to listen.
We lock up the clinic and step out into the cool evening air, I catch myself stealing glances at her profile. There's something about Violet calling to my alpha instincts in ways I'm not entirely comfortable examining.
"Thank you," she says quietly as we walk back toward the bakery. "For being patient with me today. For not giving up when I made a mess of everything."
"You didn't make a mess of everything. You learned. There's a difference," I say dismissing her lack of confidence.
"Still. You could have told me I wasn't cut out for this and sent me on my way. I know I wasn't exactly what you were expecting in a veterinary assistant."
"No," I agree, breathing in the way her smell mingles with the mountain air. "You're much better."
The look she gives me is worth all the chaos, spilled appointment books, and minor catastrophes of the day. Underneath all the wariness and self-doubt, there's a spark of something that could grow into real confidence with the right encouragement.
Maybe I've just found the reason she should stay. Fate is playing this omega right into our hands, and she has no idea.