Page 17 of Fetch Me A Mate (Shifter Mates of Hollow Oak #1)

DIANA

D iana spent the morning polishing everything that could be polished. The inn gleamed with fresh paint and community effort, but she wanted perfection for tomorrow night's Autumn Hearth Gathering. The event would either cement her place in Hollow Oak or reveal just how far she still had to go.

"Stop fussing," Miriam said from her perch in the parlor chair. "The place looks beautiful."

"The parlor rug has a stain."

"The parlor rug has character. There's a difference." Miriam set down her knitting. "Come here, child. You're making me nervous with all that pacing."

Diana approached, still holding the beeswax tin she'd been using on the banister. Her hands smelled of lemon oil and determination.

"Tomorrow night isn't a test," Miriam said gently. "It's a celebration. The town coming together in their inn again."

"Their inn that I'm responsible for now."

"Their inn that you've restored beautifully." Miriam reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a small silver locket, tarnished with age. "This was my mother's. She wore it the night she met my father at a harvest dance."

Diana accepted the locket, feeling its weight. The silver was warm from being carried close to Miriam's heart.

"I can't take this."

"You're not taking it. You're borrowing it." Miriam's eyes sparkled. "For luck, for courage, for whatever you need tomorrow night. Wear it, love. Let them see you."

The locket settled perfectly at Diana's collarbone, like it had been waiting for her. She fastened the chain with fingers that still carried the scent of beeswax and polish.

"There," Miriam said with satisfaction. "Now you look like an innkeeper."

Rowan arrived at noon with lumber for what he claimed were last-minute repairs, but something was different about him. His usual focused energy felt scattered, his pale eyes constantly scanning windows and doorways like he expected trouble.

"Everything okay?" Diana asked, watching him reinforce a window latch that seemed perfectly functional.

"Fine. Just want everything secure for tomorrow night."

"Secure from what?"

His hands stilled on the latch. "Big crowd. Want to make sure the building can handle it."

The explanation felt hollow. Diana's empathic gift picked up undercurrents of tension from him, waves of protective anxiety that had nothing to do with structural integrity.

"Rowan."

"I need to check the back door." He brushed past her toward the kitchen, tool belt jangling.

Diana followed, finding him installing what appeared to be a third deadbolt on the rear entrance.

"That seems excessive for a community potluck."

"Can't be too careful."

"About what, exactly?" She moved closer, studying his profile in the afternoon light streaming through the kitchen window. "You've been different since yesterday. Jumpy. Like you're expecting something bad to happen."

"Nothing's going to happen." The words came out too quickly, too sharp. "Just want everything perfect for tomorrow night."

The sincerity in his voice was real, but so was the tension radiating from him. Diana wanted to push further, but footsteps on the front porch interrupted the moment.

"That'll be Twyla with the final menu details," Diana said. "We'll finish this conversation later."

"Nothing to finish."

But as Diana headed for the front door, she caught Rowan testing the new deadbolt one more time, his movements precise and professional. Like he was preparing for a siege instead of a social gathering.

Twyla arrived with a notebook full of serving suggestions and a knowing smile. "Final preparations going well?"

"As well as they can with someone acting like we're under attack." Diana glanced toward the kitchen, where the sound of drilling continued. "He's installed enough locks for a bank vault."

"Hmm." Twyla's fae heritage gave her sharper senses than most humans. "Wolves can smell trouble on the wind before anyone else notices. Might be worth listening to his instincts."

"What kind of trouble could threaten a gathering?"

"The kind that makes an alpha pace like a caged animal." Twyla began sketching seating arrangements on her notepad. "He's been wound tight for days. Protective energy rolling off him in waves."

Diana thought about the way Rowan had been watching the windows, testing locks, staying later than necessary to complete repairs that seemed increasingly unnecessary.

"You think he knows something specific?"

"I think he's preparing for something specific. Question is whether he plans to tell you what that is before tomorrow night."

The drilling stopped. Rowan emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag, his pale eyes immediately scanning the room.

"Ladies." His voice was carefully controlled. "Everything ready for tomorrow?"

"Just reviewing final details," Twyla said smoothly. "Diana's nervous about her first official hosting event."

"She shouldn't be." Rowan's gaze lingered on Diana's face. "She's good at bringing people together."

"Yes, she is." Twyla's tone was loaded with meaning. "Question is whether everyone will let her."

Something flickered across Rowan's expression, too quick for Diana to interpret. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that small towns can be protective of their traditions. New people sometimes face... resistance." Twyla's smile was sharp. "Though I'm sure you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rowan?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Rowan's jaw tightened, and Diana felt the protective energy radiating from him spike higher.

"Diana's earned her place here," he said quietly. "Anyone who thinks otherwise can deal with me."

"Good to know." Twyla closed her notebook with a snap. "I'll make sure word gets around that the inn has strong protection."

After Twyla left, Diana confronted Rowan directly. "What was that about?"

"What was what about?"

"That whole exchange. The undercurrents. The way you looked ready to start a fight over my hosting abilities." Diana crossed her arms. "And don't say it was nothing. My senses are practically screaming from all the tension in this room."

Rowan was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on something beyond the windows. "Some people don't like change."

"And you think they'll cause trouble at the gathering?"

"I think I'm being careful." His eyes met hers finally. "This event matters to you. I want it to go well."

"Rowan." Diana stepped closer, her voice gentling. "If there's something specific you're worried about, tell me. Let me help."

For a moment, she thought he might. Something vulnerable flickered in his pale eyes, a need to share the burden he was carrying alone.

Then his walls slammed back into place.

"Everything's fine," he said. "Just pre-event nerves. You should focus on tomorrow night. Make sure it's everything you want it to be."

He gathered his tools and headed for the door, leaving Diana alone with her polishing supplies and a growing certainty that whatever Rowan was protecting her from would find its way to her gathering whether she knew about it or not.

The locket at her throat felt heavier as she returned to her preparations. Tomorrow night would be more than a celebration, she realized. It would be a test of whether she truly belonged in Hollow Oak.

She just wished she knew what she was being tested against.