Page 32 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas (Hollow Haven #2)

"You have a good eye for macro work," I said as she crouched to photograph a cluster of tiny mushrooms growing on a rotting log.

"I love the small things. They tell just as much of a story as the big dramatic landscapes." She adjusted her angle, chasing the light. "Sometimes more."

I found myself watching her more than the trail ahead. The way she moved with quiet purpose, completely absorbed in her work. The small sounds of satisfaction she made when she captured something exactly right. The unconscious grace of someone doing something they truly loved.

This was better than any romantic gesture I could have planned. Just watching her rediscover her passion, seeing her come alive behind the camera. It was more intimate than dinner at the fanciest restaurant, more meaningful than flowers or jewelry.

"Sterling never would have brought me somewhere like this," she said, standing up and checking the shot on her camera's LCD screen. "He thought the outdoors was too messy for omegas, said I had no business wandering around in the dirt where he couldn't see me. Too many things that could go wrong."

"He was an idiot."

The words came out more forcefully than I'd intended, and she looked up at me with surprise.

"Sorry," I said. "I just... anyone who couldn't see how talented you are doesn't deserve to have opinions about your art."

Her smile was radiant. "Thank you. That means more than you know."

"Got it," she said, straightening up with a smile that made my chest tight.

"Good. The real payoff is still ahead."

Hawk Ridge was exactly what its name implied, a rocky outcropping that provided sweeping views of the valley below and the mountain ranges beyond. More importantly for photography, it was a natural funnel for bird migration and a favorite perching spot for raptors.

But as we climbed higher, I started to see it through romantic eyes instead of just scientific ones.

The way the morning mist clung to the valleys like a soft blanket.

The layers of mountains stretching away in shades of blue and purple.

The way the light would be perfect for photography, but also perfect for the kind of moment that changes everything between two people.

"Oh wow," Willa breathed as we crested the final rise.

The view was spectacular. Morning mist still clung to the valleys below, and the mountains stretched away in layers of blue and purple. A red-tailed hawk circled overhead, riding the thermals with effortless grace.

"This is incredible," she said, already pulling out her camera. "Wes, this is absolutely breathtaking."

"I was hoping you'd like it." I tried to keep the pleasure out of my voice, but failed. "I've been coming here for years to document population changes, but I never get tired of this view."

She was already lost in her photography, moving around the ridge to find different angles and compositions. I found a comfortable rock and settled in to watch, pulling out my binoculars to scan for wildlife she might want to photograph.

This was what I'd wanted to see. Willa in her element, completely herself, pursuing something that brought her genuine joy. The concentration on her face, the way she moved with purpose and confidence, was more attractive than anything I'd ever witnessed.

"Peregrine falcon at two o'clock," I called quietly. "About halfway up the cliff face."

She swung her lens around, adjusting settings with practiced efficiency. I watched her face as she found the bird, saw the moment when everything else faded away except the shot she was trying to capture.

"Beautiful," she murmured, and I wasn't sure if she meant the falcon or the photograph.

For the next hour, she worked with the kind of focused intensity I recognized from my own research.

I pointed out wildlife when I spotted it, but mostly I just enjoyed watching her discover the rhythm of the place.

She had a natural understanding of animal behavior, knowing when to wait patiently and when to move for a better angle.

"There's a pair of ravens that nest on the north face," I said when she paused to change memory cards. "They might come investigate if we're patient."

"Ravens are incredible. They’re so intelligent."

"These two have been here for three years. They've gotten used to the occasional researcher, but they're still wary of cameras."

As if summoned by our conversation, one of the ravens appeared, landing on a rocky outcrop about fifty feet away. It cocked its head, studying us with bright black eyes.

"Don't move too fast," I whispered. "He's deciding whether we're interesting or threatening."

Willa slowly raised her camera, moving with the kind of deliberate care that came from understanding wildlife. The raven watched her for a long moment, then seemed to decide we were harmless. It began preening, giving her perfect shots of its glossy feathers catching the morning light.

"Got it," she breathed, lowering the camera with a huge smile. "That was amazing."

"Ravens are good luck, according to some traditions."

"I believe it." She looked around the ridge, taking in the view with obvious contentment. "This place is magical, Wes. Thank you for bringing me here."

"Thank you for seeing it the way I do."

We spent another hour on the ridge, with her photographing everything from soaring hawks to tiny alpine flowers growing in rock crevices. I found myself sharing stories about the conservation work, the challenges of protecting habitat in an area where development pressure was always present.

"How are you feeling about the development situation?" she asked during a quiet moment, lowering her camera to look at me directly. "I know how much this place means to you."

I was quiet for a moment, surprised by how much I wanted to tell her everything. "Actually, something's happened. Something that could change everything, but I'm not sure what to do about it."

"What do you mean?"

"Cassian gave me documents," I said, gesturing toward the valley below where the proposed resort would have been built. "Internal communications, financial records, proof that the town council was essentially bought off. Evidence that could stop this development completely."

Her eyes widened. "That's incredible. Why aren't you sure what to do?"

"Because if I use them, if I go public with this information, Cassian's life is going to explode.

" I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the decision.

"His family will cut him off completely.

His career, his inheritance, everything he's ever known.

And the whole town will know he's the one who provided the evidence. "

"But the habitat would be protected."

"Yeah. Fifteen acres of pristine flyway, the watershed, all of it saved.

And according to these documents, the resort would have disrupted the town's water supply.

We're talking about severe shortages within five years if this thing went through.

" I looked out over the landscape we were trying to protect.

"I'm releasing everything to the newspaper.

The public deserves to see what the council tried to do, and this is too important to sit on. "

"That will cause quite a mess," she said softly.

"A huge mess. But that's what it takes sometimes." The anger was building in my chest now, hot and righteous. "Cassian's willing to sacrifice everything to do the right thing, and here I am worried about the fallout? That's not fair to him, and it's sure as hell not fair to this place."

She was quiet for a moment, following my gaze across the valley. "What does Cassian say about it?"

"That he wants to stop the development and he's prepared for the consequences.

He's made peace with what it'll cost him.

" I felt my jaw clench. "Which makes me furious, because why should doing the right thing come with such a massive price tag?

Why should he have to choose between his family and protecting something that should never have been threatened in the first place? "

"Sounds like he's already made his choice," she said gently. "And it sounds like you have too."

"Yeah," I said, feeling the certainty settle into my bones. "I have. Those documents are going public, and the development stops. Period. I just wish the world was set up so that heroes like Cassian didn't have to lose everything to save what the rest of us should have been protecting all along."

We stood in comfortable silence for a while after that, both of us looking out over the valley that would remain untouched because of one man's courage.

The weight of the decision felt lighter now that I'd said it out loud, and I found myself grateful for Willa's quiet presence beside me.

She had a way of listening that made the complicated feel manageable, the overwhelming feel possible.

When she finally declared herself satisfied with the morning's work, I realized it was nearly noon and we were both getting hungry.

"Ready for lunch?" I asked.

"Starving, actually. I got so caught up I forgot about food entirely."

"Lucky for you, I came prepared."

I'd been nervous about the picnic all morning, but now, spreading out the blanket I'd brought and unpacking the food, it felt natural. Right. Like something we'd done dozens of times before.

"Wes, this looks amazing," she said as I laid out the sandwiches and fruit. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"Wasn't any trouble."

That was a lie. I'd gotten up early to make sure everything was perfect, had changed my mind about the menu three times, and had probably packed enough food for a week-long expedition.

But seeing her face as she took in the spread, the genuine appreciation in her expression, made every minute of overthinking worth it.

"The cider’s still hot," I said, unscrewing the thermos cap.

"You brought real cider on a hike. I think I'm in love."