6. Sydney
H and poised to knock on the intimidating set of double wooden doors, I take one final giant inhale. My suitcases sit on either side of my feet, repacked after another night on the couch, listening to my sister and her mate.
I woke up early this morning, showered away the sleepless night, and decided I needed to find a different place to stay. Awkwardly explaining to Wren and Kiernan over breakfast that I don’t want to encroach on their sex life and I don’t expect them to abstain for a whole month.
They’re newly in love. I understand that they can’t keep their hands off each other.
So, Kiernan offered to ask Reese if one of the cabins on the main road is available. Or, worse case scenario, ask if I could stay with Reese in his massive log-mansion.
As kind as Kiernan’s offer to solve this problem for me was, I want to smooth things over between me and the grumpy alpha. So I packed my bags and drove my car to his home.
Glancing over my shoulder, the sun reflects off the windshield of my beat-up hatchback. The dark-blue paint is rusted in some spots, but it’s mine. Hopefully Reese won’t mind it being parked in the gravel driveway in front of his cabin.
Cabin doesn’t really do the place justice now that I’ve seen it up close. It’s a sprawling two-story home. My eyes roam over the outside as I build the courage to knock.
Cedar logs cover the exterior and green shingles line the sloping roof, giving it a rustic, homey vibe. A large wooden deck extends from the front. A single Adirondack chair sits in the massive outdoor area.
No bright flowers like Wren’s added to her place. No outdoor furniture meant for entertaining. It seems almost… lonely .
Pity grows in my gut the longer I stand here staring at the single chair.
Blowing out one last calming breath, I pull on my big girl panties and bang my fist against the wooden door.
Knock. Knock.
Giving it a few moments, I wait for one Grumpy Bear to swing the door open, but nothing happens. Kiernan confirmed that Reese would still be home at this time of morning. They don’t usually head out to the logging site until eight.
Checking my smartwatch, the time reads seven-twenty. Maybe he’s still asleep?
Raising my fist again…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I put a little more force behind my fist this time.
As I’m about to turn tail and head back to Wren’s, the door retches open, hinges screaming at the movement. Disgruntled dark eyes bore down on me, causing my heart to flit as fast as a hummingbird’s wings .
“What?” he barks, brows dipping down into a scowl, jaw clenching up tight. I nearly flinch at the harsh tone, not sure dealing with this grumpy bear is worth it, but I can’t spend one more night on Wren’s couch.
Swallowing my nerves, I plaster on a pleasant smile. “Good morning,” I greet, voice dripping with sweetness. “I don’t know if you remember me. We met yesterday. I’m Wren’s sister, Sydney.”
I stick my hand out, waiting for him to shake it.
“I remember.” Grumpy McGrumperson crosses his muscled arms over his barrel chest, glaring down his nose at me.
My hand hangs awkwardly between us. I drop it to my side once I realize he’s not in the mood for small pleasantries.
Rolling my shoulders back, I straighten my spine. Don’t let the big bear see your fear.
“I need a place to stay,” I state firmly, tipping my chin up to meet his dark gaze.
“Thought you were staying with Wren?”
“I was, but…” I trail off, not sure how to explain to Reese that I can’t sleep one more night on a couch listening to Wren and Kiernan going at it.
“That situation isn’t really working out.” Fuck, I really hope he doesn’t notice the wobble in my voice.
“For how long?” Reese strokes his thick beard with his fingers. I gulp down the saliva pooling in my mouth, my own fingers twitching at my sides with the need to run through the coarse hairs on his face. Not the time, brain.
My brain finally comes back online, and I tip my head back to peer up at him. “A month. See, the thing is, umm, I need some place to stay away from Wren and Kiernan’s unbelievably loud sex,” I rush the words out before I can chicken out. “If I hear my big sister screaming Kier’s name in the throes of passion one more time, I’m gonna hurl.”
My chest expands as I suck in a breath. “No one should have to hear what their sibling sounds like when they orgasm.”
Cheeks burning, I peek up at Reese through my lashes. “So can I, pretty please with a cherry on top, stay in one of the extra cabins?”
“No can do. Plumbing’s broken.” His arms tighten over his chest, pec muscles rippling in a tantalizing wave. Forcing my eyes back to his face, I blink rapidly, trying to clear the lust.
Come on, Syd. Stop thinking with your vagina.
“Oh-kay. Can I stay with you?”
Widening my eyes, I give him my best sad puppy look, pouting my bottom lip out and clasping my hands under my chin. This look has gotten me almost anything when I use it. “You won’t even know I’m here,” I reassure.
His nostrils flare wide and I prepare for the rejection, but…
“Fine,” he grits, like it physically pains him. That damn vein on his forehead is pulsing again.
He reaches for the handle of my suitcase at the same time I do. Our fingers brush and heat zips up my arm like fire burning through my veins. What the fuck?
Quickly pulling my hand away, a gasp slips out of my parted lips. Reese’s dark eyes focus on my mouth. His pupils dilate as a low growl rumbles from his chest.
Snatching the suitcases up, he turns and stomps into the house.
“This way,” he growls.
“I’m sorry if I woke you. Kiernan said you were an early riser, so I figured you’d be awake.”
“It’s fine.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, hurrying to keep up as his long legs carry him down the hall.
“Fine.”
Okay. Back to one-word answers. I’m not sure what I did in the ten minutes we’ve interacted that pissed him off so badly.
“I can stay somewhere else if I make you uncomfortable,” I offer, hands twisting nervously in front of me. I chew my bottom lip, waiting for his response.
Stopping mid-step, Reese turns around so fast I almost run into his chest. His eyes are glued to my mouth again. Releasing a frustrated sigh, he scrubs a hand down his face.
“It’s fine. Like I said, the plumbing is busted in the only empty cabin. You’ll stay here.”
At least that was more than a one-word reply. I mentally high-five myself.
Muscles in his back and shoulders ripple under his thin t-shirt as he lumbers down the hall. Blinking out of my thoughts, I quickly grab my backpack and jog to keep up with him.
Heading up the stairs, he turns into the second door on the left. I follow behind, coming to an abrupt stop when I enter the room.
“Ho-ly shit,” I breathe.
“This is the guest room.” His voice carries across the large room from where he stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Wow,” I whisper, nodding my head, nearly speechless as I take it in.
Across from the wall of windows sits a dark wood, king-sized bed, adorned with cream silk sheets and a light-blue duvet.
A window-lined alcove houses two navy blue wingback chairs. They face an extravagant stone fireplace, bracketed by bookshelves stuffed with books and knickknacks. Early morning light streams through the window, cascading over the chairs. It’s the perfect nook; I can picture myself sitting and sketching for hours.
Reese sets my suitcases on the tufted cream bench at the end of the bed. Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he says, “Bathroom and closet.”
I nod my acknowledgement, still reeling at the size of this room. I think three of my tiny studio apartment would fit in here.
The decor is a surprising mix of masculine and feminine that I wouldn’t expect based on Reese’s rough exterior.
Cream baroque wallpaper lines the room, directly contrasting with the dark wood flooring, trim, and furniture. Navy and light-blue accents pop throughout the space. It’s warm, cozy, and serene; the perfect place for me.
“My room is at the end of the hall. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
S ydney nods in response, eyes wide as saucers as she spins slowly in a circle. No doubt taking in every detail of the guest room.
I was out on the back deck, enjoying my morning coffee, when a faint knocking at my front door prickled my ears—perks of shifter hearing. My pack members are relatively self-sufficient, rarely bothering me at home, let alone at seven in the morning.
My bear’s incessant whining in my ear meant it could only be one person.
Sure enough, little Sydney Fields was standing at my doorstep, suitcases in tow, asking for a place to stay.
Fuck my life.
I couldn’t turn her away. Wren would be furious if I didn’t help her sister when I have plenty of space in my home. Being a part of Cypress Valley means helping out where I can, so I’m stuck with Sydney for the next month.
The vein in my forehead throbs: this can’t be happening. The exact firecracker I’m trying to avoid just showed up at my door, ready to blow up the routine I’ve worked so hard to perfect.
My pulse pounds in my neck as I try to avoid breathing in her intoxicating scent. A low whine echoes in my ear. Not now, I mentally scold my bear .
His pent-up energy causes my hands to shake with the need to touch her. Balling them into fists, I shove them into my jeans pockets.
How the fuck do I keep myself from touching her if she’s around twenty-four seven? Every fiber of my being screams for me to pull her small frame against me. Time’s like this, I wish I was a normal human, not a shifter controlled by baser instincts.
“I promise I’ll clean up after myself. You won’t even know I’m here,” she says, floating across the space to look at the books lining the shelves by the fireplace.
From my spot near the bed, I get a perfect view of her ass cheeks as they peek out the bottoms of her jean shorts. My fists curl tighter in my pockets with the urge to cup the plump mounds of flesh.
For a petite thing, she has a nice round ass. I’d love to redden it with my hand while— stop it!
“Have you read all of these?” Sydney turns toward me, the end of her long braided hair swinging to land over one shoulder. Her fingers instantly twirl into the almost white strands. I wonder if it’s her natural hair color.
The sunlight shining in from the window behind her casts a warm halo around her.
My angel .
Clearing my throat, I remember she asked me a question. “Yes,” I grit through clenched teeth.
Delicate fingers tipped with short round nails pluck a book off the shelf. The Outsiders . My personal favorite. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I remember my grandmother giving me that very copy when I was thirteen .
“This is my favorite!” Sydney exclaims, trailing a finger over the embossed title. Rushing toward me, she unzips the suitcase and starts rummaging around.
I stand there trying not to breathe as the rich, sweet scent of gardenias overwhelms me. She’s standing so close to me now, I could reach out a hand and grab her. Slide her warm flesh against mine.
No.
My bear huffs impatiently. I quickly swallow the sound before Sydney can hear the big bastard. Luckily, she’s distracted, tossing shirts and dresses onto the bed, looking for who knows what.
She flings a pair of lacy white panties down and my brain goes haywire.
A vision of her sprawled on this very bed in nothing but those panties floods my head. Hair the color of fresh snow spread out across the cream sheets, back arched as she palms her small breasts. Her blue eyes glowing with arousal as she stares up at me.
My cock starts to harden. Shit.
Before I can take a much needed step back, Sydney slams something into my chest.
“Here!” she proclaims triumphantly.
My hand comes down on top of hers, and the rectangular item—a book. Upon contact, warmth spreads up my arm, into my chest, causing my heart to pick up speed.
Sydney’s lips part on a gasp, her eyes widening as she looks up at me .
“That’s the second time that’s happened,” she whispers, pulling her hand away and clutching it to her chest.
“What?” I manage to croak, voice raw and gritty.
Shaking her head, Sydney takes a step back, muttering a quick “nothing” under her breath. I take that moment to turn the item in my hand over. It’s a first edition hardback of S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders . The book is in pristine, almost new condition.
“Where did you get this?” I ask, eyes tracing over every detail of the cover. It’s almost identical to mine, although not tattered and torn. No pages dog-eared. No passages underlined or highlighted. No loving inscription from a dead grandmother.
“Wren gave it to me for my birthday. She felt bad about not spending the day with me. And she knew I lost my copy when I left home and our parents moved to Florida. It’s my favorite book. I’ve read it hundreds of times.”
She rambles on, my brain still trying to catch up with the fact my fated mate is standing in front of me and we share the same favorite book. She’s perfect. But she’s twelve years younger than you and she’s only here temporarily.
I need to get out of here before I do something stupid… like throw her down on the bed and devour her.
Clenching my jaw, the muscle ripples under the skin. Eyes narrowed to slits, they drop to Sydney’s face. The beaming smile falling from her ethereal face as soon as our eyes meet.
“Um, I’m sorry if I did something to make you angry. I didn’t—,” she splutters.
Cutting her off, I grumble, “It’s fine.” I snatch my own well-loved book from the bed. “Here,” I snap, handing her copy back to her before turning my back on my mate.
“I have to go,” I call over my shoulder, stomping out of her room, down the stairs, not stopping until the door to my workshop closes behind me.
Breathing deep, I let the familiar scent of sawdust and cedar calm my racing heart. The rapid thrumming in my chest slows to a steady pace. Tension bleeds out of my muscles as I glance around my wood shop.
My sanctuary.
A partially finished Adirondack chair sits on my workbench. Scraps of plywood litter the ground. A mound of sawdust waits in the dustpan. In my state of exhaustion last night, I didn’t properly clean up after myself. Totally unlike me, but everything has been out of orbit since Sydney showed up. Suddenly, all the pieces are crashing down around me.
Gently setting my copy of The Outsiders down on the workbench, I pick up the broom and begin sweeping. Metaphorically and physically getting my life back in order.