Page 31 of Fetch Me A Mate (Shifter Mates of Hollow Oak #1)

DIANA

D iana found Rowan in the kitchen at seven AM, coffee already brewed, blueprints spread across the table like he'd been planning something all night.

"Morning," she said, pouring herself a mug. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep. Been thinking about that attic space you mentioned." He tapped the architectural drawing with his pencil. "The one for living quarters."

"Oh." Diana settled into the chair across from him, studying his face. No tension lines around his eyes today, no careful distance in his posture. "What about it?"

"You said I could choose a room to restore my way."

"I did."

"I choose that one."

Diana's pulse quickened. The attic had been her private dream, the space she'd imagined turning into a real home within the inn. Somewhere permanent, somewhere that belonged to her completely.

"It's not much to look at right now," she said carefully. "Just raw beams and old floorboards."

"Best kind of space to work with. Honest bones, good light." Rowan rolled up the plans. "Want to take a look?"

"Now?"

"Now."

They climbed to the third floor, past guest rooms and storage closets, up the narrow staircase that led to the attic door. Rowan pushed it open and stepped aside, letting Diana enter first.

Morning light poured through the dormer windows, turning dust motes into tiny dancers. The space stretched long and wide, raw pine rafters overhead, planked floors worn smooth by decades of storage use. It smelled of old wood and possibility.

"Wide windows," Rowan said, moving to the largest dormer. "Honest wood." He ran his palm along a support beam. "Sky."

Diana joined him at the window. The view swept across Hollow Oak's rooftops toward Moonmirror Lake, autumn trees blazing gold and red in the distance.

"You really want this room?"

"Yeah. Question is whether you want me to have it."

The careful phrasing made her heart skip. This wasn't just about renovation anymore.

"What would you do with it?"

"Make it livable. Proper insulation, drywall, built-in storage. Maybe a small kitchen area in that alcove." He gestured toward a recessed space near the stairs. "Bedroom space here by the big windows. Sitting area there."

"That sounds like a lot of work."

"Good thing I like working with my hands."

Diana walked the perimeter, imagining the space transformed. "The inn's insurance covers living quarters for the manager."

"Does it cover live-in contractors?"

"Depends on the contractor."

Rowan set down his tool bag and pulled out a paint chart, colors marked with small x's. "What do you think? For the walls."

Diana studied the swatches. Soft sage, warm cream, pale gray that matched his eyes. Colors that would complement the natural wood without overwhelming it.

"These are beautiful. Very... peaceful."

"That's the idea." He handed her a brush. "Want to test some samples?"

"Right now?"

"Right now. Can't make decisions about paint until you see how it looks in the actual light."

She accepted the brush, and he opened a small can of the sage green. Their fingers brushed as she dipped the bristles, sending heat up her arm.

"Here," Rowan said, guiding her to a section of wall between windows. "Just a small patch."

Diana applied the paint in careful strokes. The color looked different up here, richer and more complex in the angled morning light.

"Good choice," she said.

"Try the cream."

He opened the second can, standing close enough that she could smell pine smoke and clean soap. When she reached for more paint, a drop splattered onto her wrist.

"Occupational hazard," Rowan said, catching her wrist gently. His thumb wiped away the paint, rough skin against her pulse point. "Goes with the territory."

"What territory?"

"Working with someone who makes you forget to be careful."

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. "I'm always careful."

"Not always." His voice dropped lower. "Storm night in the parlor, you weren't careful."

"That was different."

"How?"

Diana looked up at him, paint brush forgotten in her hand. "Because I trusted you not to let me fall."

"And now?"

"Now I'm wondering if falling might not be so bad."

Rowan's eyes darkened, his grip on her wrist tightening slightly. "Diana."

"What?"

"If we're going to do this, we do it right. No running, no pushing each other away when things get complicated."

"Do what, exactly?"

"Build something together. Here, in this space. In this town." His free hand came up to cup her face. "With each other."

He was so direct with her suddenly, no walls, that she couldn’t stop herself from saying, "That sounds terrifying."

"Yeah. It does."

She set down the brush and turned fully toward him. "Also sounds like the best idea I've heard in years."

"Even knowing it won't be easy? That my past might follow us here?"

"Especially knowing that." Diana stepped closer, her hands finding his chest. She looked around the attic space, seeing not what was but what could be. "I'm tired of being safe. I want to be brave."

"You are brave. You came to Hollow Oak with nothing but a letter and a stubborn streak. You took on an entire town's skepticism and won them over through pure determination."

"That wasn't bravery. That was desperation."

"Same thing, sometimes."

Diana laughed, surprising herself. "Is that your professional opinion, contractor?"

"It's my personal opinion, mate."

The word hung between them, loaded with meaning she was only beginning to understand. "Is that what this is?" she asked quietly. "What we are?"

"If you want it to be."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll sleep in the basement and try not to love you so much it keeps me awake nights."

The confession hit her like a physical force. "Rowan."

"Too much?"

"Not enough." She pulled him down for a kiss, soft and sure and full of promise. "Paint the room whatever colors you want. Build whatever kitchen makes you happy. Just don't build it without me."

When they broke apart, both breathing unsteadily, Rowan rested his forehead against hers.

"You sure about this? About us?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Good. Because I'm planning on staying for a very long time."

"How long?"

"Forever, if you'll have me."

Diana smiled, feeling lighter than she had in years. "I'll have you, Rowan Baneville. All of you."

They spent the rest of the morning painting sample squares on different walls, their conversation ranging from practical details to shared dreams. Diana learned that Rowan preferred oak to pine, that he'd always wanted a workshop space where he could build furniture in his spare time, that he thought about the future now instead of just surviving each day.

"What about you?" he asked as they cleaned brushes in the makeshift sink. "What do you want this place to become?"

Diana looked around the space that would be theirs, seeing it complete in her mind's eye. Morning light streaming through clean windows, books scattered on comfortable chairs, the scent of coffee and contentment.

"Home," she said simply. "I want it to become home."

"Then that's what we'll build."

As they packed up the paint supplies, Diana realized that preferencing safety had never felt so brave. For the first time in her life, she was choosing something uncertain, something that required faith rather than guarantees.

She was choosing love.