Chapter 14
Rowan
Iwake up with my hand between my legs. My pussy throbs as wetness coats the insides of my thighs. I wiggle my fingers and feel a shock of pleasure jolt through me. The… post orgasm kind of pleasure.
This is... new. And mortifying.
I yank my hand away like it's been burned, staring up at the ceiling fan making its lazy circles above my bed. My skin feels too tight, too hot, like I'm running a fever. Except I know exactly what this is, and it has nothing to do with being sick.
It has everything to do with last night.
With Wells in that perfectly tailored suit, his eyes darkening behind his glasses when he first saw me in the emerald dress.
With the warm pressure of his hand at the small of my back as he guided me through the ballroom.
With the flash of something possessive in his expression when that resort heir got too close.
I groan and pull my pillow over my face.
This was not the plan. The plan was to keep my distance, maintain boundaries, and absolutely not develop any kind of attraction to any of my temporary roommates.
I could lie to myself and say the plan was working if the pillow I'm desperately trying not to smother myself with, didn't smell like Jasper. Which it does.
Because it's his.
The plan is failing spectacularly.
It's not just Wells. It's Theo, with his gentle hands and kind eyes, scent-marking me when he thought I was asleep.
It's Jasper, with his gruff exterior and those forearms that should require a permit.
It's all three of them, filling the house with their alpha scents, their presence, their. .. everything.
And my body is responding with increasing enthusiasm, which is both terrifying and inconvenient.
Gerald mews from his cat bed in the corner, clearly deciding I've wallowed enough for one morning.
"You're right," I tell him, tossing aside the pillow. "This is pathetic. We're going to get up, take a cold shower, and pretend none of this is happening."
He blinks at me, unimpressed with my plan.
The shower helps, a little. The blockers help more, and the in-shower orgasm I give myself with the shower head helps the most. Though I'm having to use twice the amount of scent blocking lotion as much as I did when I first arrived.
At this rate, I'll be bathing in the stuff by the end of the week.
Downstairs, the house is quiet. Theo's already at the clinic, according to the note on the fridge. Jasper's truck is gone, which means he's probably at a job site. And Wells... well, I'm not sure I'm ready to face Wells just yet
.
Which makes this the perfect time to escape to work.
At the flower shop, Crystal takes one look at me and raises an eyebrow. "Rough night?"
"Just tired," I say, reaching for my apron. "Mayor's Gala. Lots of small talk."
She nods, unconvinced. "Heard you went with Wells. The whole town's talking about it."
Great. Because what I really need right now is to be the subject of more small-town gossip.
"It wasn't a date," I clarify. "Just a work thing. He needed a plus-one."
"Mmhmm," Crystal hums skeptically. "And I need another shipment of peonies like I need a hole in the head, but guess what arrived this morning?"
I'm saved from further interrogation by the arrival of actual customers. The morning passes in a blur of arrangements, deliveries, and the soothing rhythm of flower preparation. By lunchtime, I've almost convinced myself that everything is fine. Normal. Under control.
Then my friends burst through the door like a glitter bomb of enthusiasm.
"There she is!" Lala exclaims, rushing forward to grab my hands. "Our belle of the ball! We've been dying to hear how it went!"
"It was fine," I say, already knowing this will not satisfy them. "Just a boring work event."
"Not according to Mrs. Landingham," Billie says, settling herself on the stool by the counter.
"She said you and Wells were, and I quote, 'thick as thieves all night, with him glaring daggers at poor Bradley Peterson.'"
I roll my eyes. "Mrs. Landingham also thinks her cat is plotting world domination with the help of alien technology."
"Her cat is definitely up to something," Avianna agrees thoughtfully. "But that's beside the point. Spill. Did you have fun? Did Wells behave himself? Did you?"
"Yes, yes, and yes," I say, busying myself with trimming roses to avoid their scrutiny. "It was just a nice evening out. A distraction from... everything."
The three exchange glances, and I brace myself for whatever's coming next.
"Honey," Lala says, her voice gentler than usual, "your scent has changed again."
I freeze mid-snip. "What do you mean?"
"It's... sweeter. More defined." She wrinkles her nose, searching for words. "Like it's settling into something specific."
"Omega-specific," Avianna clarifies, ever the direct one.
I set down the scissors before I can accidentally stab myself in my panic. "That's... that can't be right. The blockers—"
"Aren't working as well anymore," Billie says apologetically. "It's normal, with emerging presentations. Your body is basically overriding the chemical barriers."
"Great," I mutter. "Just perfect. Exactly what I needed right now."
"It's not a bad thing," Lala insists, squeezing my arm. "Presenting is natural. Beautiful, even."
"There's nothing beautiful about losing control of your own body," I snap, then immediately regret it when her face falls. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... it's just a lot. And complicated."
"Because of the three alphas you live with?" Avianna asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
I nod miserably. "I was supposed to be out of there in a month. Clean break, no complications. But now..."
"Now your body is recognizing potential mates," Billie finishes softly. "And responding to them."
"They're not potential mates," I protest, though the words sound hollow even to my own ears.
"They're my temporary roommates. That's it."
None of them look convinced.
"Look," I say, desperate to change the subject, "can we talk about literally anything else? Please? The festival, the weather, that weird rash Zeno from the coffee shop has been trying to hide?"
"It's poison ivy," Lala supplies immediately. "He claims he got it hiking, but everyone knows he was spying on my new bakery sign installation and fell into the bushes."
Just like that, the tension breaks, and they're off on a tangent about the ongoing bakery-versus-coffee-shop feud that's apparently been raging for the better part of a decade. I listen gratefully, letting their chatter wash over me without requiring much input.
But Lala's words echo in my mind. My scent is changing. Becoming more defined. More omega.
More me, maybe. But is that version of me someone I'm ready to be?
After work, I find myself wandering toward Noble Grounds Café, drawn by the siren call of caffeine and the desire to delay going back to the house for as long as possible. The coffee shop is nearly empty this late in the afternoon, with just a few people typing on laptops and—
Jasper.
He's hunched over a table in the corner, surrounded by what appears to be note papers, a scowl etched so deeply into his face that it's a wonder the table hasn't caught fire from the intensity of his glare.
I should leave. Turn around, go to the bakery instead, avoid another potentially charged interaction with one of my increasingly complicated roommates.
But something about the set of his shoulders, the tense line of his jaw, makes me pause. He looks... exhausted. Frustrated. And oddly vulnerable in a way I've never seen him before.
Before I can overthink it, I'm walking toward him.
"You look like you're plotting a murder," I say, sliding into the chair across from him.
"Architectural edition."
He startles, looking up with surprise that quickly morphs into his usual grumpy expression.
"What are you doing here?"
"Same as everyone else. Seeking caffeine and avoiding responsibility." I nod toward his tablet. "What's all this?"
He hesitates, as if debating whether to tell me to get lost, then sighs. "Henderson renovation. The specs aren't matching the actual structure, and now the custom cabinets don't fit."
I wince. "That sounds... expensive to fix."
"It would be, if I wasn't eating the cost myself." He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in a way that should look ridiculous but somehow just makes him more attractive. Unfair. "I measured twice, but the wall's not square. Old houses never are."
I lean forward, genuinely interested despite myself. "Can you adjust the cabinets?"
"Not without delaying the project by three weeks. And they're already living with a half-finished kitchen." He taps the screen with a callused finger. "I'm trying to figure out if I can modify the wall instead, but it's load-bearing, so..."
"Complicated," I finish for him. "What if you split the difference? Adjust the wall a bit where you can, modify the cabinets just enough to make them fit?"
He looks at me with surprise, as if he wasn't expecting an actual suggestion. "That might work, actually. If I can shave a quarter inch off the corner cabinet and use the trim to disguise it..."
He trails off, already sketching on the screen. I watch him work, fascinated by the transformation. The perpetual scowl eases, replaced by intense focus. His hands move with precision, confident and capable.
"You really love this, don't you?" I ask. "Building things. Fixing problems."
He glances up, a hint of defensiveness in his expression. "It's just a job."
"No, it's not," I counter. "Not to you. I can see it in the way you work. It matters to you, getting it right."
He's quiet for a moment, assessing me with those intense eyes. "Yeah," he finally admits. "It does."
We sit in surprisingly comfortable silence as he continues sketching. I signal to Zeno for a coffee, which he delivers with a suspicious look between Jasper and me.
"You've been at this a while, haven't you?" I ask after taking a sip. "You seem... tired."