Page 25

I guess I expected something from Kian when it came to me tending bar tonight.

Maybe a growl.

A possessive scowl.

Some dramatic no woman of mine is gonna go back to work at that shithole moment.

Instead, what I got was this .

I sigh as I look around.

This is so much better than any over-the-top display I could have ever imagined.

I wipe down the bar and pop the tops off a couple of beers for my customers and I smile.

Bob’s Bar isn’t fancy. Hell, the lighting is dim, the jukebox hasn’t worked right since ever, and the floors still creak like they’re narrating a ghost story.

But tonight, it feels like a kind of home.

Jezebel and Emmet are tucked into one of the high-top tables, laughing about something. She’s drinking milk and Emmet’s arm is slung protectively across the back of Jez’s chair like he can’t bear not to touch her.

Across from them, Avery is blushing like a schoolgirl as Dante leans in, whispering something that makes her swat at him with a napkin.

And then there’s Kian.

Sitting at the end of the bar.

His broad frame relaxed, elbows resting on the scarred oak.

Golden hair tousled from the wind.

One hand nursing a beer. His eyes simply watching me.

No, not just watching.

Tracking.

Like I’m his favorite story unfolding across the room, and he doesn’t want to miss a single page.

His gaze is a little possessive.

But it isn’t jealous.

It’s proud.

Like he knows who I am. He has this innate belief in me that makes me feel so humble. The man builds me up and I have never had that.

He is precious to me.

And the crazy thing is he thinks he isn’t good enough.

As if.

Hell, I know he’s good for me.

Not just in the soft, romantic way most girls dream about.

But in the deep down to your bones, let me be your safe place kind of way.

The kind that creeps into the hollow parts of you and slowly fills them with light.

Yeah, Kian’s got his doubts.

He carries them like old scars under that gorgeous, golden skin.

But none of it matters. Not to me.

Because I believe in him.

In what we are.

In what we could be.

When he looks at me, I feel like I’m made of stardust and wildfire.

I shine.

And gods, I want to shine for him.

Not because he needs me to.

But because he makes me want to be the most real, raw, radiant version of myself.

And I love him.

I love that he doesn’t try to dim me or shrink me or make me quieter to fit into his world.

He wants me loud.

He wants me bright.

He wants me exactly as I am, standing strong in my own skin, doing my thing, messy and mouthy and absolutely mine.

After we made love earlier tonight, the fast, desperate, world-shattering kind of love he’s got me addicted to, Kian didn’t just kiss me goodbye before work.

He gave me a surprise.

One that I’m still not over.

He led me to the kitchen with that mischievous little smirk on his face, and there, waiting on the windowsill, was a small wooden crate.

Inside were tiny ceramic pots, each one holding a different herb seedling— basil, thyme, dill, rosemary, lavender .

They smelled like sunshine and green things. Like promises for the future.

And beside them?

A tub of goat cheese so fresh it still wore the morning dew.

“What’s all this?” I’d asked, wide-eyed and breathless.

Kian rubbed the back of his neck, that shy smile tugging at his lips. Like he was nervous to give me something so thoughtful it made my chest ache.

“Well, you know how those sandwiches we had with Gramps knocked my socks off?”

“Yeah?”

“And then you told me you made the cheese blend yourself?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I’ve been talking to Jed and Max.”

He’d paused, and I could see it then. How much this mattered to him.

“We think, that is, maybe you should develop a line of flavored goat cheese. You know, use herbs from the farm, put your name on it, and sell it through Dolly’s Dairy Products.

Max’s lawyers are drawing up paperwork. You don’t have to sign anything.

But, I mean, if you want it, If you want to build something here, with us, um, with me ? —”

I swear my heart stopped mid-beat.

Because it wasn’t just a business proposal.

It was a future.

A place. A purpose. A promise.

For the first time, Kian seemed to believe it was possible, too. Even with the Rut hanging over his head.

And I want that future. I want all of it.

So naturally, I did the only reasonable thing a girl could do.

I jumped him.

Right there in the kitchen.

Pinned him against the counter, tugged his shirt up just so I could touch his hot skin, and I kissed him like he just offered me the keys to forever— because he kind of had .

We didn’t get far, though.

Not with me on shift tonight at the bar.

But even our quick, frenzied kisses, with my thighs squeezing his hips and his hands tangled in my hair, were enough to remind me of one very important truth.

This man is mine.

And I’m one lucky girl because he loves me right back.

I still half expected him to bristle when I told him I was going in to cover a shift at Bob’s.

That alpha hot boy streak of his flaring up, the protective Bull inside him wanting me to stay tucked away at the ranch where no one could look too long or say the wrong thing.

But Kian didn’t flinch.

He just kissed my forehead and said, “Let’s go.”

“Go? Where are you going?”

“With you. Watching. Supporting. Always.”

And now, here he is.

Sitting at the bar, sipping his drink, watching me with that quiet, hungry reverence that says he’d burn the world down for me if I asked.

And yes, I believe him.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. Even if he doesn’t know that about himself, I do.

After all, here he is.

Loving me out loud.

Letting me shine.

The hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the warm glow of string lights draped across the ceiling. It all weaves into a kind of cozy magic that settles in my bones.

I feel good.

Steady.

Rooted.

Seen.

Loved.

It’s the kind of night you tuck away in your soul to take out later when things are dark or difficult.

The kind of moment that says you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

But then a shiver slips down my spine.

Tiny. Quick.

Gone before I can name it.

My smile falters for the briefest second as I finish pouring a drink and glance toward the door.

No one’s there.

The bell above the frame jingles faintly, but the air doesn’t move.

The lights don’t flicker.

No shadow crosses the threshold.

I can’t shake it, though, and something inside me tugs.

A knowing. A whisper. A warning.

Like the air just shifted.

Like a page turned and the next chapter isn’t quite as soft.

I try again, and this time I shake it off. I’m just being silly, I guess.

I paste on my smile and bring the drinks to a pair of guys at one of the back tables.

Bob really needs to find more help.

The customers nod their thanks, and I wander back to the bar. Kian winks at me from his seat and my heart trips in that wonderful, familiar way.

I pour myself an iced water and catch sight of Bob on the phone behind the bar. He looks upset and harried.

My former boss’ gaze flicks to me and I frown. Then he turns and says something I don’t hear before he hangs up.

Weird. And getting weirder.