Page 10 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas (Hollow Haven #2)

Wes

I spotted him the moment I walked into the community center.

Cassian Black, leaning against the back wall like he owned the place, expensive suit and polished shoes that probably cost more than most people in Hollow Haven made in a month.

His presence hit me like a punch to the gut.

Corporate money incarnate, the face of everything that was about to destroy the watershed I'd spent two years documenting and protecting.

What the hell was he doing here? This was supposed to be a routine council meeting, not some corporate dog and pony show.

But there he stood, checking his phone with the casual arrogance of someone who knew the outcome was already decided, his cologne cutting through the room's usual mix of small-town scents like an invasive species choking out native plants.

Cassian Black. Son of the Black hotel empire, heir to a fortune built on turning pristine landscapes into profit margins.

I'd done my research when Pinnacle Development first started sniffing around Hollow Haven.

The Black family specialized in luxury resorts that promised economic opportunity while delivering environmental destruction and minimum-wage service jobs.

They'd done it in Tennessee, in Colorado, in three counties across Montana. Now they wanted to do it here.

The sight of him made my alpha instincts surge with territorial fury.

This was my community, my watershed, my responsibility to protect.

And this corporate prince was here to smile and charm his way into destroying fifteen acres of irreplaceable habitat so rich people could have spa weekends in the mountains.

I was still staring at Cassian, hands clenched around my folder of environmental studies, when movement in the middle section caught my attention.

Willa, sitting three rows from the back, wearing a navy sweater that made her jasmine and summer rain scent carry even in a room full of competing signatures.

She looked nervous, uncomfortable, like she wasn't sure she belonged here but had come anyway.

The sight of her settled something tense in my chest. She was here.

At a town council meeting about environmental protection, something that mattered to me more than I'd been willing to admit to anyone, including myself.

She caught my eye and gave me a small, awkward wave, her expression uncertain but encouraging.

Why was she here? Willa didn't seem the type to involve herself in community politics, she was still trying to find her feet here. She was still keeping her distance from anything that might require taking sides or making her opinions known. Still trying to find her footing in a new place while she recovered from the terrible situation she’d found herself in before.

Was she here for me? Did she realise how much it would mean to me to see her here?

The possibility made my heart race with hope I hadn't allowed myself to feel.

Maybe her interest in the owl rehabilitation updates meant something deeper than professional courtesy.

Maybe her questions about conservation work indicated genuine investment in what I was trying to protect.

Maybe she was here because she understood that this fight was important to me, and that made it important to her.

I found a seat two rows behind her, close enough to catch hints of her scent signature but far enough away not to make her uncomfortable with alpha attention she hadn't explicitly welcomed. From here, I could see the way she held herself carefully, like she was trying to take up as little space as possible while still showing support for something that mattered. It was a type of strength I’d never really considered before.

I took a moment to look around at the rest of the room as everyone started to settle in their seats.

The community center felt different tonight.

The usual warm energy that filled these monthly council meetings had been replaced by something sharp and uncomfortable.

Cassian's presence explained part of that.

Corporate money always changed the atmosphere, made people nervous about speaking their minds or defending what they actually valued.

But there was something else, something that made my alpha instincts buzz with unease even beyond the obvious threat.

Three rows ahead of me, Councilman Roberts was having what looked like an intense whispered conversation with a man in an expensive suit I didn't recognize.

Another corporate type, probably Cassian's associate or maybe his father's representative.

The stranger's cologne was almost as overpowering as Cassian's, everything about him screaming money and influence and the kind of power that bought votes before meetings even started.

I glanced at Willa again, noting the way she was studying the room like she was trying to understand the undercurrents of tension.

This was probably her first town council meeting, her first exposure to the kind of small-town politics that could determine whether protected habitat survived or got turned into luxury amenities for people who already had too much.

The fact that she'd chosen tonight to start caring about community issues, felt significant. Like maybe she was beginning to see Hollow Haven as more than just a temporary refuge. Like maybe she was starting to think about building something here that was worth protecting.

The thought made warmth spread through my chest despite the corporate sharks circling the room and the environmental disaster I was about to watch unfold. Whatever happened tonight, whatever games Pinnacle Development and the Black family wanted to play, I wouldn't be facing it completely alone.

Willa was here. That had to mean something.

"Order, order." Mayor Davidson banged her gavel, and the murmur of conversation gradually died down. "First item on tonight's agenda is the proposed development of the Blackwood Creek watershed area."

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t supposed to be first. Hell, this was only supposed to be mentioned at the end of the agenda as an ongoing project, but from the grim look on her face I could already tell what was about to come was going to be a shit show of epic proportions.

I’d submitted my environmental impact assessment three weeks ago and hadn’t heard a word back.

Standard procedure was thirty days minimum for public review before any council discussion.

“As you all know,” the mayor continued, “Pinnacle Development has presented us with an exciting opportunity for economic growth in our community.”

Exciting opportunity. I forced myself to stay seated when every instinct was telling me to stand up and demand to know when this had become a done deal.

The folder in my hands contained two years of research documenting the irreplaceable ecological value of that watershed.

Three endangered species used it as critical habitat.

The stranger in the expensive suit stood up and flashed a practiced smile. “Thank you, Mayor Davidson. I’m James Hamilton, Senior Development Director at Pinnacle Development. I’m thrilled to share our vision for the Hollow Haven Wellness Resort.”

I watched him click through a slideshow of architectural renderings and economic projections, each image designed to make dollar signs dance in the council members’ eyes. Two hundred construction jobs. Seventy-five permanent positions. Twelve million in annual tax revenue.

What he didn’t mention was that most of those jobs would be minimum wage and seasonal. What he didn’t mention was that similar developments had contaminated groundwater in three other counties. What he didn’t mention was that once you paved over critical habitat, it was gone forever.

“Mr. Thatcher.” Mayor Davidson’s voice cut through my internal rage. “I understand you have some concerns about the environmental impact?”

Some concerns? Like that was all two years of scientific research amounted to. I stood up, trying to keep my voice level and professional. “I’ve submitted a comprehensive environmental assessment that documents significant ecological risks.”

“Of course,” Pinnacle said smoothly. “We’ve reviewed Mr. Thatcher’s report, and while we appreciate his passion for wildlife, we also need to consider economic realities.”

Passion for wildlife. As if caring about clean water and endangered species was some kind of quaint hobby instead of essential environmental stewardship.

“The development would destroy habitat for three endangered species,” I said, addressing the council directly. “It would contaminate the primary aquifer and disrupt migration patterns that have existed for centuries.”

“Mr. Thatcher,” Councilwoman Martinez interrupted, “while we appreciate your concerns, we also need to consider the economic benefits to our community.”

I looked around the room at faces I’d known my whole life.

Mrs. Henderson, who’d taught me biology in high school.

Tom Murphy, whose hardware store had been family-owned for three generations.

These people knew the value of the land we were talking about.

They’d grown up hiking those trails, fishing that creek, teaching their children to identify the calls of the birds that nested there.

“Since when is Hollow Haven struggling economically?” The question came from Agnes Murphy in the front row. “Last I checked, our local businesses were doing just fine.”

“Times change, Agnes,” Roberts said without meeting her eyes. “Opportunities like this don’t come along often.”