9. Willow
NINE
Willow
Istare at Xander, not sure if I should explode or not.
How is he so calm after what he did?
How is Gabe not saying anything?
Julian, meanwhile, is already elbow deep in the food bags like he’s catering a corporate retreat instead of eating takeout off a kitchen island the size of Rhode Island.
“Okay,” he says brightly, pulling containers out one after another and laying them on the dining table. “Amazing. We’ve got burgers, fries, onion rings, chicken tenders, pie… whoever packed this understood the assignment.”
I should leave.
I know I should.
The entire situation is absurd. I should turn around, march out of the giant villain estate, drive back to town, and spend the rest of the night complaining about rich men with control issues to Daisy until I feel like a person again.
Instead, I stay exactly where I am, still glaring at Xander.
He doesn’t look away.
That’s the problem with him. He never seems rushed. Never flustered. Never scrambling to recover a point or soften a blow. He just stands there, solid and controlled and very obviously used to having the room come to him.
Which is precisely why I want to push back harder.
“You think saying I can still leave somehow fixes this?” I ask.
“No,” he says.
That catches me off guard again.
His fingers tap once against the side of his thigh.
Then again.
Drumming. Like there’s more going on under all that calm that he’s not saying out loud.
He keeps his eyes on mine. “I think it means I removed the practical problem, not the personal one.”
I cross my arms. “Wow. Interesting.”
A corner of Julian’s mouth twitches as he opens the drinks. Gabe, who has been watching the whole thing in that unsettling way of his, reaches for a glass and starts pouring an amber liquid over ice like he’s hosting a board meeting instead of whatever the hell this is.
Xander doesn’t rise to the sarcasm. That alone should’ve warned me tonight was going to be weird.
“You’re angry,” he says.
“That’s an incredible observation.”
“You should be.”
I blink.
Julian pauses mid-reach for an onion ring. Gabe glances up.
I stare at Xander harder, because that cannot possibly be his actual approach here.
He inclines his head once, like we’re discussing weather patterns instead of the fact that he just bought my evening. “You’re angry because I stepped into something that wasn’t mine to manage. I understand that.”
“Do you?” I ask. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels a lot like you did exactly what you wanted and expected me to just deal with it.”
His fingers tap again.
Once. Twice.
“I did what I wanted,” he says. “That part’s true.”
My jaw tightens.
“But,” he continues, “I’m also not going to insult you by pretending I didn’t know it would piss you off.”
Julian actually laughs at that. “Jeez.”
Gabe takes a sip of his drink, watching the two of us like this is a negotiation he’s not sure whether to interrupt.
I listen. Because what I want is simple outrage. Clean outrage. The kind you can drive home with and feed to your dog in dramatic monologues.
“I’m still mad,” I inform him.
“I know.”
“And you’re still an ass.”
He doesn’t even blink. “Probably.”
Julian points at him. “He’s definitely an ass. Don’t let this soft accountability routine fool you.”
“I’m not soft,” Xander says without looking at him.
Julian grins. “That’s also true.”
Gabe sets a glass near the stool beside him and finally speaks. “Willow.”
I look over at him.
He gestures to the drink. “Sit. Have one. Be angry if you need to. But you might as well be comfortable.”
I open my mouth to refuse on principle.
Then I notice the glass.
It’s not just random whiskey or some dark liquor poured because he assumed I’d take it. It looks lighter than that. Ice, citrus, sharp.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Bourbon, ginger, lemon,” he says. “You look like you need something with bite.”
Julian makes an offended sound. “And here I thought I was the observant one.”
“You’re loud,” Gabe replies.
“That hurt my feelings.”
“No, it didn’t.”
Julian considers that for half a second. “Fair.”
I should leave.
Every sensible instinct I have is screaming at me to grab my bag, walk out of this ridiculous mansion, and never let any of these men near my blood pressure again.
But Xander isn’t arguing with me anymore, that’s the problem. He’s not trying to convince me I’m wrong. He’s not brushing it off or acting like I’m overreacting. He’s just standing there taking it, calm and direct in a way that feels sincere.
And Gabe somehow made it worse by giving me an actual choice.
Stay angry.
Leave angry.
Either way, nobody’s blocking the door.
Julian is already halfway through the fries like this entire conversation is just background noise to him, and the tension in the room shifts, becoming something less overwhelming. Less cornered.
Underneath the irritation, underneath the instinct to protect myself from men exactly like this, there’s something else.
Curiosity.
About the house, the label, them. And maybe that makes me an idiot, but apparently not enough of one to walk away yet.
So, instead, against every instinct built by years of common sense and a healthy distrust of men with too much money, I walk over to the island and sit on the stool Gabe indicated.
This isn’t forgiveness. It’s a temporary lapse in judgment.
I pick up the drink and take a sip.
Damn it. It’s good.
I glare into the glass like that might change things. “I hate all of you a little.”
Julian beams. “That’s basically a declaration of friendship where I come from.”
“I don’t care where you come from.”
“Oh, Redemption Falls really has changed me,” he says to no one in particular.
Xander takes the stool across from me, not right beside, but directly opposite. He leans one forearm against the island and watches me over the spread of food like I’m somehow more interesting than the fact that Julian is currently arranging sauce cups in a line like they’re tiny employees.
I try to focus on the food in front of me, but my stomach does a little twist at the thought of eating.
It’s not that I don’t love food, I do. The problem is, I don’t always feel comfortable eating in front of people.
Especially men who have everything together while I’m just me. Curvy, soft, with hips and thighs that are anything but runway-model thin.
There’s a brief second where I just sit there, forcing myself not to pick at the fries too much, and I feel myself getting a little self-conscious.
This is stupid.
I tell myself to stop thinking about it, to just eat and move on. So, I do. I pick up a fry and take a bite.
Julian points a chicken tender at me. “So. Since you’ve accidentally become part of dinner, tell us something useful.”
“Such as?”
He gestures around vaguely. “Town stuff.”
I arch a brow. “That’s insultingly broad.”
“I’m a broad guy.”
“I’m assuming that’s your subtle way of saying you want the inside scoop on Redemption Falls,” I say, forcing myself to focus. “Fine. Let’s see…”
I pick up a fry, take a bite, and think.
“Well, first of all, don’t let anyone tell you the pizza’s good in this town. It’s passable, at best. Falls Pizza is a trap. If you want decent food, you have to hit up the mercantile. Bill’s got this weird knack for making any sandwich you order seem like it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten.”
Xander raises an eyebrow. “Noted. Pizza’s out.”
I nod, satisfied with the acceptance.
Gabe, who’s been unusually quiet for the last couple of minutes, speaks up. “What about the market?”
“Well, it brings people together, I’ll give it that,” I say.
“But the tourists don’t stay long, and I think that’s part of the problem with this town.
It gets stuck. I mean, everything’s great until you try and get past that one block.
The minute you hit Main Street, it feels like you’ve already seen everything and everyone.
The more money comes in, the more people start worrying about their space.
But I suppose you guys might change that.
” I frown. “You might turn this place into a circus.”
Gabe shakes his head. “That’s definitely not the plan. We love the peace of this place.”
Is his leg touching mine?
Yep, and he definitely isn’t moving it.
I can’t decide if the accidental leg touch is intentional or just a muscle twitch from someone who spends too much time in tailored suits. Either way, it feels like a challenge.
My breath catches, and I force myself to focus on the conversation, on anything, anything other than the heat of his thigh against mine.
“Love the peace, huh?” I say, trying to keep the flow going.
Gabe leans back, taking another sip of his drink. “Redemption Falls might be small, but it has more than enough room for a new vision. We’re here to give something back. A place for artists to dream without the pressure.”
It sounds almost rehearsed. A polished line. But there’s a tightness in his voice that makes me believe it’s not all just a sales pitch.
Plus, his knee keeps twitching, and I don’t know if he’s trying to get closer to me or push me away.