Page 23

By the time I'm dressed and gathering supplies, extra thermos for her coffee, my tool belt to help Callum out, a couple of the cookies Aunt Maeve dropped off yesterday.

I can feel my scent warming with anticipation.

The kind of eager contentment that probably makes me smell like someone who's way too excited about spending his day off doing manual labor.

Levi appears as I'm loading everything into my truck, freshly showered and carrying what looks like car keys.

"Heading out?" I ask.

"Need to run some errands," he says casually. "What about you? Ready to go win over an omega who clearly has excellent taste in stolen shirts?"

I can't help but grin. "When you put it like that..."

"You've been grinning like an idiot since you woke up, and you keep touching your chest like you're thinking about something that makes your alpha instincts happy." Levi's smile is knowing but fond. "Plus, you smell like you're getting ready to do something important."

"I don't smell like anything."

"Dean. You smell like an alpha who knows exactly where his scent is being appreciated." Levi's expression turns more serious. "Just... be careful, okay? She's been through something. Don't rush her into anything she's not ready for."

The advice is gentle but pointed, and I nod because he's right. Whatever brought Lila to Honeyridge Falls, whatever she's running from or toward, she needs space to figure things out. The last thing I want to do is pressure her into something she's not ready for.

But that doesn't mean I can't be there when she's ready. Doesn't mean I can't show her what it looks like to have someone who genuinely cares about her comfort and happiness.

"I'm not rushing anything," I say, starting the engine. "I'm just... being available."

"Uh-huh. Being available." Levi grins. "Well, try not to get too territorial if Julian shows up too. Small town, remember? We all have to live here."

The mention of Julian sends a spike of something uncomfortable through my chest—not jealousy exactly, but awareness.

Julian's been circling around Lila too, bringing books and paying attention in his own quiet way.

And now Callum will be there, working on her house with his hands, being useful in ways that matter.

Three alphas, all drawn to the same omega. All wanting to be the one she turns to.

The thought should worry me. Should make me want to back off, maintain the careful distance that keeps small-town dynamics uncomplicated.

Instead, it makes me press the accelerator a little harder, eager to get to her house before anyone else has the chance to make her smile the way she smiled at me yesterday.

The drive to Lila's house takes eight minutes that feel like an hour. I've made this trip enough times now that I could do it with my eyes closed, but today every familiar turn feels charged with possibility. Today I'm not just helping a neighbor or delivering food from Aunt Maeve.

Today I'm answering a text that said "just you" like it meant something.

Her street is quiet in the morning sunlight, just the distant sound of someone mowing their lawn and the cheerful chatter of birds. Normal Sunday morning sounds that feel different when you're headed toward something important.

I can smell her house almost before I see it.

Not just the green apple and white musk that clings to her space, but something deeper. Something that speaks of comfort and contentment and home. The kind of scenting that happens when an omega has been spending time in a space, when she's been making it truly hers.

When she's been sleeping with a stolen shirt pressed against her skin.

I park behind Callum's familiar pickup and grab my supplies, noting the lumber already stacked and organized on her front lawn.

He's been here early, probably since dawn, getting everything ready for a full day of construction.

The sight of his truck should bother me more than it does, evidence that I'm not the only one eager to spend time in Lila's space.

Instead, it just makes me more determined to be useful, to find my own way to contribute to whatever she's building here.

The front door opens before I can knock, and Lila appears in the doorway wearing denim shorts and a pink tank top that somehow manages to look both casual and devastating. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there's a smudge of what might be flour on her cheek.

"You brought coffee," she says, and her smile is bright enough to power the entire town.

"I brought coffee," I confirm, holding up the extra thermos. "And cookies from Aunt Maeve. She made me promise to make sure you're eating breakfast."

"She's going to spoil me completely." Lila accepts the thermos with hands that brush against mine, the brief contact sending warmth up my arms. "Callum's already been here since before the sun came up. I think he's trying to rebuild my entire porch single-handedly."

"That sounds like Callum." I follow her into the house, immediately noting the changes from yesterday.

The reading chair positioned perfectly by the front window, already looking like it belongs.

The side table holds a small lamp and what looks like one of Julian's books.

"Everything looks great. You've been busy. "

"Just arranging things." But there's satisfaction in her voice, the pleasure of someone who's creating a space that feels like home. "The mattress you helped carry upstairs has been a lifesaver. Most comfortable guest bed ever."

Guest bed. Right.

The careful way she says it, like she's testing how the lie sounds, makes something warm and knowing settle in my chest. She's sleeping on that mattress, probably surrounded by soft things and familiar scents and at least one stolen shirt.

The knowledge makes my alpha instincts practically purr with satisfaction.

"Good," I say simply. "That's what it's for."

We head toward the kitchen, where the smell of fresh coffee mingles with something sweet and yeasty. Through the back window, I can see Callum working on the back porch framework, his movements efficient and focused.

"I should probably go help him," I say, though part of me wants to stay in this warm kitchen where Lila's scent is strongest.

"He'd probably appreciate it," Lila agrees, pouring herself coffee from the thermos. "He moved back there to check what structural issues the back porch might have too. Though he insisted he could handle everything himself. Very... independent."

The way she says it suggests she recognizes something familiar in Callum's approach to problems. Like calls to like, maybe.

"Yeah, well, independence is overrated when there's heavy lifting involved." I drain my coffee quickly, already eager to get outside and start being useful. "We'll have this knocked out in no time."

"Dean?" Lila's voice stops me at the back door.

"Thank you. For coming, for helping. For..." She gestures vaguely, encompassing more than just today's assistance. "For being you."

The simple words hit deeper than they should, carrying weight that has nothing to do with porch repair and everything to do with the way she's looking at me. Like my presence here matters in ways beyond extra hands for construction work.

"Thanks for letting me," I say quietly.

Then I head outside to help Callum, my hands already itching to start building something solid and lasting for the woman who stole my shirt and maybe my heart in the same weekend.

Behind me, I hear Lila humming something soft and contentedly off-key, and the sound follows me out into the morning sunshine like a promise.

Today's going to be a good day.