Chapter 18 Rowan #2
"He was flirting with you," he says, as if this is a capital offense.
"Yes, he was," I agree. "Quite nicely, actually."
Something dark and possessive flashes in Jasper's eyes, making my heart rate quicken despite my determination to remain unaffected. "You encouraged him."
"Maybe I did," I challenge, tilting my chin up. "What's it to you?"
He opens his mouth, then closes it again, apparently at a loss for words. Good. Let him stew in whatever this is.
"The coffee's getting cold," I say breezily, brushing past him to return to the table.
As I pass, I let my shoulder graze his, a deliberate echo of the contact from the kitchen that he so thoroughly rejected afterward. His sharp intake of breath is deeply satisfying, as is the sound of wet napkins hitting the floor when he nearly drops them.
At the table, the conversation has moved on to festival preparations, though Lala shoots me a knowing look as I distribute the coffees.
"Who was your friend?" she asks with exaggerated innocence.
"Ben," I say casually. "He works at Elysian Fields Vineyard. Seems nice."
"Very nice," Avianna agrees with a meaningful glance at the three alphas. "And available, from what I hear."
Wells's expression is carefully blank, but there's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before.
Theo looks thoughtful, his eyes moving between me and Jasper with an unreadable expression.
And Jasper... Jasper is furiously scrubbing at a coffee stain on the table, his movements jerky and aggressive.
"We should get going," Wells says abruptly, standing. "The mayor's expecting us at the pavilion in twenty minutes."
Theo checks his watch. "We have plenty of time—"
"Now, Theo," Wells cuts him off, his tone brooking no argument.
Theo sighs but stands, giving me a small, private smile that makes my stomach flutter. "See you at the festival setup later?"
I nod, returning his smile despite myself. "I'll be there after my shift at the shop."
Jasper passes our table without a word, still radiating irritation like a furnace. Wells follows, but pauses next to me.
"A word outside, Rowan?" he asks, his voice neutral but with an underlying note that makes it clear this isn't really a request.
Curiosity gets the better of me. "Sure. I'll be right back," I tell the others, ignoring Lala's exaggerated wink.
Outside, Wells waits until we're a few paces from the café before speaking.
"You should be careful around strange men," he says without preamble.
I stare at him, incredulous. "Excuse me?"
"Ben Miller. He has a reputation for... moving quickly with new women in town."
"And you felt the need to warn me about this because...?"
Wells's jaw tightens. "Because you're our—" He cuts himself off, recalibrating. "Because you're new here, and might not be aware of local... dynamics."
"Local dynamics," I repeat flatly. "Like alphas thinking they have the right to police who I talk to?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?" I challenge, stepping closer. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you're awfully concerned about a harmless conversation with a beta who offered to carry my coffee."
His nostrils flare slightly as I move into his space, his pupils dilating in response to my proximity. "I'm concerned about your safety," he says, but his voice is rougher than usual, betraying the emotion beneath his controlled exterior.
"My safety," I echo skeptically. "Not the fact that you and Jasper practically radiated territorial pheromones the moment Ben smiled at me."
Wells's expression hardens. "I don't know what game you're playing, Rowan, but it's dangerous."
"I'm not playing any game," I say, even though we both know that's not entirely true. "I'm just living my life. Making connections. Isn't that what you all wanted? For me to get settled in town?"
"Not like this," he says, so quietly I almost miss it.
"Then like what?" I demand. "Because I'm getting some very mixed signals here, Wells. One minute you're holding me like I'm something precious, the next you're pulling away and warning me off other men. What exactly do you want from me?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with all the tension and confusion and attraction that's been building for weeks.
For a moment—just a moment—Wells's carefully constructed facade cracks, and I glimpse something raw and wanting in his eyes. Something that makes my breath catch and my body respond with an answering heat.
Then the mask slams back into place. "What I want doesn't matter," he says stiffly. "You'll be moving on in nine days regardless."
The reminder stings more than it should. "Right," I say, taking a deliberate step back. "Nine days. Then we can all go back to normal and forget this ever happened."
Something flickers in his expression—pain? regret?—before he nods once, sharply.
"Exactly."
He turns and walks away without another word, his posture rigid, his scent a complex mixture of frustration and something deeper, more primal, that calls to the omega in me despite all my efforts to ignore it.
I watch him go, my own emotions a tangled mess. This morning was supposed to be simple—coffee with friends, festival preparations, normal, everyday activities. Instead, I've managed to provoke Jasper into a jealous fit and push Wells to the edge of his control.
And the worst part? I enjoyed it. The power of it, the rush of seeing these composed, controlled alphas react so viscerally to the mere suggestion of another man's interest in me.
What is happening to me?
When I return to the table, Lala takes one look at my face and says, "Well, well, well. Things just got interesting."
She has no idea.