24. Elena
Chapter twenty-four
Elena
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the festival grounds as I meticulously wipe down my workstation.
Today's shortened schedule means freedom by five o'clock, and the promise of an early evening off feels like a decadent éclair I can't wait to devour.
My mind, however, is still buzzing, replaying Dorian's words from our feedback session like a song stuck on repeat: ". ..completely, fearlessly yours."
Could I actually pull it off? Bake something that’s authentically me , after years of repressing myself and channeling Pierre’s vision, keeping my own ideas locked away? Dorian seems to think so. It’s like he sees the baker I’ve only dared to be in my dreams.
And damn did that whole exchange feel… intimate. In some ways, much more so than what happened between us in the woods.
"Lost in thoughts of sugar plums?"
I jump, turning to find Cole leaning against the end of my workstation, looking unfairly good in civilian clothes: a simple dark t-shirt that stretches appealingly across his broad chest and worn jeans that, by the looks of it, fits his ass just right.
"Something like that," I admit, offering him a slightly flustered smile. "And what's with the clothes? Shouldn't you be patrolling for rogue sparks or something?"
"My heroic duties are on a brief hiatus," he says, that little half-smile I'm starting to adore playing on his lips. "The evening safety briefing isn't for another two hours. Which, conveniently, leaves just enough time to escort a certain hardworking baker home."
I raise an eyebrow, trying for playful skepticism. "And how do you know said baker isn't planning to wild out on the town? Hit up Lakeview's thriving bar scene."
Cole snorts. "Right. Because nothing says 'wilding out' like Mrs. Jenkins's book club at the library."
"Hey, that's only on Mondays!" I shoot back. "And I'll have you know those ladies can get pretty rowdy over wine and Jane Austen."
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, since your wild fun’s a few days away… how about I walk you home, with a slight detour? I know a spot."
"A spot?" I echo, intrigued. "One I don't know after three years?"
"Yep," he replies, his gaze holding mine. "Even for someone who's been soaking up Lakeview's charm for all this time, I bet this one's new to you."
The offer is casual, but there's an undercurrent of something more that makes my stomach perform a series of excited little flips. "Lead the way, Lieutenant," I say, trying to match his easy tone, even though my heart has apparently decided to pick up a salsa rhythm.
We walk in comfortable silence, the buzz of the festival fading behind us.
Cole guides me down a quiet side street I’ve passed a hundred times but never bothered to explore, past charming old Victorian houses with inviting wraparound porches and gardens exploding with vibrant blooms. The air smells sweet, a mix of freshly cut grass, roses, and something that might just be impending romance.
"So, this scenic detour," I ask, as we turn onto a narrow, almost hidden gravel path lined with elegant silver birch trees "you sure you're not just luring me into the woods to, you know… pick up where we left off last night?"
What the… did I really just say that?
"You wound me," he replies, clutching his chest in mock offense. "I’m a gentleman and I take my role as tour guide seriously. This is strictly scenic." He throws me a wink.
The path opens suddenly, revealing a scene that literally steals my breath away.
Tucked away like a carefully guarded secret is a small, secluded pond, its surface as smooth and reflective as polished glass, mirroring the clear blue sky above.
A weathered wooden dock extends a short way into the still water, and a single, sturdy wooden bench sits on the grassy shore. It’s breathtaking.
"This," Cole says quietly, his voice a satisfying rumble beside me, "is Turner's Pond. I used to sneak off here as a kid, whenever I needed to escape my chores or just… think."
"It's… magical," I breathe, sinking onto the bench. "How have I lived in Lakeview for three years and never known this place existed?"
"Most newcomers don’t stumble upon it right away." He sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the reassuring warmth radiating from his arm. "Locals tend to keep their favorite spots a bit… guarded. It usually takes about five years of good behavior before they start sharing the real goods."
"And I qualify for an early reveal after only three?" I tease, looking up at him.
His smile is soft, private, and it makes my heart do a silly, fluttery dance again. "Let's just say you’re… special, Elena. And since you looked so contemplative earlier, this seemed like the perfect spot."
We sit in a gentle hush for a while, the only sounds the gentle lapping of water against the dock and the distant chirp of crickets tuning up for their evening performance. The sun, beginning its slow descent, paints the water with shifting patterns of light. It’s incredibly peaceful.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Cole asks softly, his voice pulling me from my reverie. His shoulder brushes mine, a casual contact that feels anything but.
"Just… processing today," I admit, leaning back against the bench, letting our shoulders maintain contact. "It was a rollercoaster. And that feedback session with Dorian? Intense doesn't even begin to cover it."
"Good intense, or ‘I need to go home and bake my feelings into a chocolate cake’ intense?" he asks, his eyes kind.
"Revealing intense," I say, turning to look at him, feeling a sudden urge to share the jumble of emotions churning inside me. "Dorian said something… about being fearlessly myself in my baking. And it just… it got me thinking."
Cole’s hand, large and warm, finds mine where it rests on the bench between us. His thumb begins to trace slow, soothing circles on my palm, and the simple, unexpected touch sends a wave of warmth through me. "Thinking about what?"
"About how I’ve spent so long being afraid," I confess, the words tumbling out.
It feels safe to say them here, with him.
"Afraid of what people would think, afraid of failing, afraid of losing my independence if I let anyone get too close. So I’ve been…
hiding. Playing it small. Not just in my baking, but…
well, in pretty much everything." I take a shaky breath, the admission hanging in the still air.
"Which definitely includes my love life.
Making connections… particularly with alphas. "
His fingers still their gentle movement on my skin for a heartbeat. "What do you mean?" His voice is soft, encouraging.
"I used to think that being with an alpha, or a pack for that matter, meant losing a part of myself. I’ve been courted by both, even as a beta, and it always felt like I’d have to shrink to fit. To become… less." I meet his steady, unwavering gaze. "But I’m starting to seriously doubt that theory."
And I mean it. Being with him… with James, even Dorian… None of them make me feel smaller. If anything, they’re showing me different pieces of who I could be if I’d just stop being so damn afraid.
Cole’s free hand comes up, his calloused fingertips impossibly gentle as they cup my cheek, tilting my face toward his. "Elena…" The way he says my name… I lean into his touch, letting myself be vulnerable in a way that would have sent me running for the hills just a week ago.
"I’m scared," I whisper, the admission a raw ache in my chest, but also a strange sort of relief.
"Of what?" he murmurs, his thumb stroking softly along my cheekbone, his eyes searching mine.
"Of… of wanting this," I confess, my voice barely audible. "Of finally discovering that maybe, I don’t have to choose between my independence and having… connection. Real connection.
His thumb brushes my lower lip, a feather-light touch that makes my breath catch in my throat. "You don’t have to figure it all out today, you know," he says, his voice a low, husky rumble.
"No," I agree, my voice equally breathless. "But I think… I think I’m finally ready to stop running away from possibilities."
He leans in then, slowly, deliberately, giving me every opportunity to pull away, to stop him.
I don’t.
When his lips meet mine, it’s deep, intentional… a slow-burning kiss that speaks of promise, of understanding, of desire. There’s heat, god yes, but it’s not the kind that scorches. It’s steady. Grounding. A warmth that reaches all the way in and says: you’re safe here.
It’s… perfect.
His hand slides into my hair, fingers threading gently as he tilts my head to deepen the kiss.
I sink into him. Into the quiet strength of his body, into this moment of breathtaking clarity by the hidden pond, painted in the first strokes of sunset.
When we finally, reluctantly pull apart, we’re both a little breathless.
"I should probably get you home," he murmurs, his lips still brushing mine. "Before I completely forget I have responsibilities."
"Responsibilities are highly overrated," I tease, my voice still husky, but I let him help me to my feet—even as my legs wobble like over-proofed dough.
The walk back to my apartment building is different. The air is now filled with a new, vibrant energy, a palpable sense of possibility that hums between us.
At my building’s entrance, Cole turns to me. Before I can find the words to say anything, he kisses me again. Just once. Soft, sweet, and so full of tender promise it makes my heart take flight.
"See you tomorrow?" His eyes search mine, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.
"Tomorrow," I confirm, my voice barely a whisper, but my smile says everything else.