Page 30 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas (Hollow Haven #2)

"Since you broke your coffee mug?" she teased, but her voice was breathless.

"Since you told me exactly what you thought of my attitude." I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Nobody ever called me on my shit before. Most people just leave me alone."

"Maybe I don't want to leave you alone."

The words hit me harder than they should have. I'd spent so many years convincing myself that alone was better, safer, that I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to want someone to stay.

"I'm falling for you too," I said, the words coming out rough but honest. "Harder than I thought possible. You make me want to be better than I am."

"You're already better than you think you are."

She kissed me again, and this time it was deeper, more confident.

I let myself get lost in it, in the way she responded when I traced her lower lip with my tongue, in the soft gasp she made when I nipped gently at her mouth.

My hands tangled in her hair, finally getting to touch those silky strands I'd been thinking about for weeks.

When we broke apart this time, we were both breathing hard.

I pulled her down to sit beside me on the soft moss beside the pool, our backs against a fallen log that had been smoothed by years of weather.

The sound of falling water was peaceful, constant, mixing with our quiet breathing and the distant call of evening birds.

"This really is your place," she said softly, looking around at the cathedral of trees overhead, the way the light filtered through the canopy in golden shafts.

"It is now," I said, then caught myself. "I mean, it was mine. But sharing it with you... it feels like it was always meant to be shared."

She turned to look at me, something soft and wondering in her expression. "What else do you want to share?"

The question was simple, but I could hear the weight behind it. She was asking about more than just secret places.

I reached for her hand, threading our fingers together.

Her hand was so much smaller than mine, soft where mine were callused, but it fit perfectly.

" Everything ," I said, surprising myself with how easy the truth was.

"I want to share everything with you. Morning coffee and late-night conversations and fixing things around the house and just.. . being together."

"Even the grumpy parts?" she teased, but there was something serious underneath it.

" Especially the grumpy parts. You seem to like me better when I'm being difficult anyway."

She laughed, squeezing my fingers. "I like you all the ways you are."

"What about you?" I asked, bringing our joined hands up to brush a kiss across her knuckles. "What do you want? For the future, I mean."

She was quiet for a moment, watching the water cascade down the rocks. "I want to feel like this," she said finally. "Safe and seen and wanted for who I really am. I want to wake up every morning knowing that I don't have to pretend to be someone else to deserve love."

"You don't," I said firmly. "You never did."

"I'm starting to believe that." She turned our hands over, tracing the lines on my palm with her free hand. "I want to take pictures again. Real pictures , of things that matter to me. I want to have a garden and learn to cook and maybe get a dog that's too big for the house."

"I like dogs," I said, dropping a gentle kiss on her lips and she grinned against my lips.

"I want to build something that lasts," she continued, her voice getting stronger. "Not just survive, but really live . With people who choose to be there."

"I choose to be there," I said, the words coming out rougher than I'd intended, before I kissed her again. "Whatever you're building, I want to be part of it."

She lifted our joined hands and pressed them against her cheek. "Promise?"

"Promise."

We sat like that for a while, watching the light change as the sun moved lower in the sky.

I kissed her again, slow and sweet, tasting the promise we'd just made to each other.

It was impossible not to at this point. When she sighed against my mouth, soft and content, I felt something settle in my chest that I'd never experienced before.

Like coming home to a place I'd been searching for my whole life without knowing it.

The sun was setting, painting the waterfall in shades of gold and orange, and the air was getting cooler.

"We should head back before it starts to get dark," I said, though what I really meant was that I didn't trust myself to keep things slow and careful if we stayed here much longer, surrounded by beauty and privacy and the sound of her soft sighs.

"Will you bring me back?" she asked, and there was something in her voice that made me think she understood exactly what I was thinking.

"Anytime you want. This place is yours now too."

We made our way back to the bike in comfortable silence, her hand in mine as I guided her through the darker sections of trail. She climbed on behind me with more confidence this time, settling against my back like she belonged there.

The ride back to town felt different. More intimate, somehow. She'd seen something I'd never shared with anyone, and instead of dismissing it or trying to change it, she'd understood. Had seen the same beauty in it that I did.

Her arms around my waist felt less like necessity and more like choice now.

When she rested her helmet against my shoulder on a straight stretch of highway, I had to focus hard on keeping my speed steady.

When her hands moved slightly against my stomach, just a small shift that could have been accidental but felt deliberate, heat shot through me like lightning.

By the time I pulled up outside her rental house, I was already planning our next ride. Maybe the old mining roads up toward Copper Peak, or the trail that led to the abandoned fire tower where you could see three states on a clear day.

"Thank you," she said as I helped her off the bike, her hands lingering on my arms longer than necessary. "For trusting me with your place. For sharing something so special with me."

"Thank you for seeing it the way I do. For understanding why it matters."

She stood on her front porch steps, looking down at me with an expression that was soft and wondering and full of promise. "I had the most wonderful time tonight, Rhett."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled, and it was radiant and genuine and made my chest feel tight with something that might have been love. "I can't wait to do it again."

"Tomorrow?" I asked, the word coming out before I could stop it.

"I have to work tomorrow. But maybe this weekend?"

"It's a date."

She laughed, a sound of pure joy that made me grin like an idiot. "It's a date."

She kissed me again, soft and lingering, before disappearing inside. I waited until she was safely in the house, lights coming on in her living room, before starting the bike again.

As I rode home through the dark streets, I couldn't stop thinking about everything we'd shared tonight.

Not just the kisses, though those had been incredible, but the promises we'd made sitting by the water.

The way she'd talked about building something that lasts, about wanting to really live instead of just survive.

The way she'd made me believe that I could be part of that future she was dreaming of.

I'd brought her to my most secret place, and instead of just sharing the waterfall with her, I'd ended up sharing pieces of myself I'd never given anyone. Dreams I hadn't even known I had about morning coffee and late-night conversations and dogs that were too big for the house.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, alone didn't feel like the safest option anymore. For the first time in my life, I was looking forward to sharing my world with someone else.

And that someone else was Willa and the pack she was building around her.