Page 34 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas (Hollow Haven #2)

Elias

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this kind of anticipation.

Standing in my kitchen, checking the lamb one more time, I realized how much I'd been looking forward to tonight.

For the past few weeks, Willa had been stopping by the apothecary most afternoons after her shift at the bookshop, settling into the chair by my counter with whatever tea blend I'd prepared for her that day.

Those quiet conversations had become the highlight of my day.

She'd tell me about her morning hikes with Wes, how he'd light up when explaining migration patterns or point out plants she'd never noticed before.

Or she'd mention fixing something at her home with Rhett's help, how patient he was when teaching her to use his tools, the way he'd bring her coffee without being asked.

Each story made warmth spread through my chest. She was bonding with them, really bonding, and I could hear the growing affection in her voice when she talked about both men. The three of us had discussed it—carefully, tentatively—and we all agreed that it was time to pull our pack closer together.

Tonight was about seeing if we could work as a group, not just as separate pairs. About showing Willa that the feelings growing between all of us didn't have to be compartmentalized or complicated.

But despite the careful planning, despite knowing Rhett and Wes were just as invested in this working, I found myself nervous in a way I couldn't quite explain.

Maybe because I wanted it so badly. Maybe because I could see how perfect we could all be together, and the possibility of that not happening felt almost unbearable.

The dinner had to be perfect. She needed to feel safe enough to be vulnerable with all of us at once.

That's where my expertise came in. Creating environments where people could lower their guards, speak their truths, and more importantly open their hearts without fear of judgment or pressure.

It was something I'd been doing professionally for years, but it had never mattered as much as it did tonight.

This dinner wasn't just about the four of us figuring out our feelings. It was about creating space for Willa to choose what she wanted without pressure, without competition, without anyone making the decision for her.

My cottage was small but warm, all exposed beams and comfortable furniture arranged to encourage conversation.

I'd spent the afternoon preparing everything with the same care I brought to my most delicate healing work.

The lighting was soft but not dim, warm yellow bulbs that would make everyone look relaxed and healthy.

I'd chosen a dinner menu that would smell incredible without being heavy or overpowering, foods that promoted calm and connection without being obvious about it.

Roasted chicken with herbs from my garden.

Seasonal vegetables that would fill the house with comforting scents.

Fresh bread that I'd started this morning, timing it so the smell would greet them when they arrived.

For dessert, apple crisp made with fruit from the orchard outside town, something sweet and simple that would end the evening on a note of satisfaction.

The table was set for four with my grandmother's dishes, nothing fancy but warm and welcoming.

I'd placed small arrangements of late-season flowers around the room, their scents chosen to promote openness and emotional balance.

Lavender for calm, rosemary for clarity, a touch of jasmine that would complement Willa's natural scent without overwhelming it.

Everything was designed to create a space where the four of us could talk honestly about what was growing between us.

But as I made final preparations, I found myself thinking about the omega wellness techniques my grandmother had taught me.

Not manipulation, never that, but the gentle art of creating atmosphere that encouraged people to be their most authentic selves.

The way certain scents could ease anxiety without affecting judgment.

The way warm light and comfortable seating could make even the most guarded person feel safe enough to speak their truth.

I'd been careful with the scent atmosphere, using my professional knowledge to create an environment that would encourage honesty without being manipulative.

Just enough calming influence to take the edge off everyone's nerves, not enough to affect judgment or autonomy.

The lavender and rosemary were subtle, mixed with the natural scents of good food and the warming spices I'd used in the cooking.

I was pulling the bread from the oven when I heard the first knock. Wes, exactly on time as always, carrying a bottle of wine and wearing the slightly formal expression he got when he was nervous about social situations.

"Smells incredible in here," he said as I let him in.

"Grandmother's recipe. Never fails to make people feel at home."

It was true. I'd learned the bread recipe from her when I was twelve, during one of the summers I'd spent at her cottage learning about healing herbs and the old ways of omega wellness. She'd understood that feeding people wasn't just about nutrition, it was about creating comfort and connection.

"How are you feeling about tonight?" I asked as he handed me the wine.

"Nervous," he admitted. "Good nervous, but still nervous. You?"

"The same. This feels important."

"It is important."

"Can I help with anything?" Wes asked, clearly looking for something to do with his nervous energy.

"Just keep me company while I finish up. Wine glasses are in the cabinet above the sink if you want to open that bottle."

Rhett arrived five minutes later, clearly uncomfortable in clean jeans and a button-down shirt that looked like he'd bought it specifically for tonight.

He'd made an effort, which touched me more than I'd expected.

His usual work clothes were practical and comfortable, but tonight he'd dressed to show respect for the occasion.

"Thanks for doing this," he said quietly as he handed me a six-pack of local beer. "Not really my thing, the dinner party planning."

"Everyone contributes what they can."

"Smells like your grandmother's kitchen in here," he said, and I caught something wistful in his voice. "Haven't smelled bread baking in years."

I filed that information away, another piece of understanding about the man who presented such a gruff exterior to the world. Rhett had grown up without much domestic comfort, that much was clear. It made his gesture of dressing up for tonight even more meaningful.

"My grandmother always said that breaking bread together was the foundation of every important conversation," I said, checking the chicken in the oven. "That people spoke more honestly when they felt cared for."

"Smart woman," Rhett said.

"She was. She taught me that creating space for healing wasn't just about medicine or therapy. Sometimes it was about a comfortable chair and a good meal and the feeling that someone cared enough to make an effort."

Wes looked up from opening the wine. "Is that what you're doing tonight? Creating space for healing?"

"I'm creating space for truth," I said. "Whatever that leads to."

Willa was the last to arrive, and the moment she stepped through my door, I knew the evening would go well. She looked beautiful but not overly dressed, in a soft green sweater that brought out the gold in her eyes and made her skin glow. More importantly, she looked genuinely happy to be here.

But there was something else too. An energy about her, a sense of decision made and courage gathered. Her scent held undertones I hadn't noticed before, something that made my alpha instincts take notice.

"Elias, your home is lovely," she said, accepting the glass of wine I offered.

"Thank you. I wanted you all to feel comfortable."

And she did look comfortable, I realized with satisfaction. Her shoulders were relaxed instead of defensive, her scent warm and open instead of carefully controlled. The environment I'd created was working exactly as intended, but there was something different about her as well.

"This feels different than the last time we were all together," she said, looking around at the three of us.

"Different how?" I asked gently.

"More intentional. Like we're here for a reason beyond just dinner."

"Are we?" Rhett asked, his directness cutting through any pretense.

She smiled, and there was something brave and determined in it. "Yes. We are."

"Can I help with anything?" Willa asked as I moved between kitchen and dining room, making final preparations.

"Just keep our guests company. Everything's nearly ready."

But I was watching all of them as I made final preparations, using skills I'd developed over years of reading people's emotional states.

Wes was nervous but determined, his usual careful control slightly strained.

He kept adjusting his shirt cuffs and checking his phone, behavior I recognized as displacement activity when he was working up courage for something important.

Rhett was out of his element but trying to be present for something he recognized as significant. He stood near the window, looking out at my small garden, but I could see him watching the rest of us in the glass's reflection. His scent carried notes of uncertainty mixed with determination.

And Willa... Willa was carrying something she wanted to share, some piece of truth she'd been holding close.

There was an energy about her, a sense of decision made and courage gathered.

Her scent held undertones I hadn't noticed before, something that made my alpha instincts take notice without quite understanding what they were detecting.

Perfect. That's exactly what I'd been hoping for.

"Dinner's ready," I announced, and we moved to the dining room table.

The conversation started with safe topics, everyone settling into their chairs and adjusting to the intimate setting. But I could feel the undercurrent of anticipation, the sense that we were all waiting for something important to begin.

"This is delicious," Willa said, taking a bite of the roasted chicken. "You're an amazing cook."

"My grandmother's influence. She believed that good food was the foundation of good conversation."

"Smart woman," Wes said.

As the evening progressed and everyone relaxed, the conversation grew more personal.

Willa's photography from her hike with Wes, complete with stories about patient ravens and perfect light.

Rhett's latest restoration project, a 1967 Mustang that was proving more challenging than expected.

My work with the community garden, and how satisfying it was to see things grow.

But underneath the pleasant dinner conversation, I could sense something building. The way Willa kept glancing at each of us in turn. The way her scent was shifting, becoming more complex. The way all three of us alphas were responding to those changes, our own scents sharpening with attention.

"I've been thinking about what you said," Willa told us as we moved on to dessert, her voice carrying a new weight. "About not having to choose between you. About some omegas preferring multiple alphas."

The statement hung in the air, loaded with possibility. I felt Wes go still beside me, his wine glass stopping halfway to his lips. Saw Rhett's fork pause halfway to his mouth, his eyes sharpening with attention.

"Have you?" Rhett said carefully, setting down his utensils.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things lately." Willa looked around the table, meeting each of our eyes in turn. "About what I want, what I'm ready for, what I'm afraid of."

I'd been waiting for this moment, sensing it building all evening like pressure before a storm. The way she'd accepted my invitation, the care she'd taken with her appearance, the nervous energy that had been following her for days. All of it pointed to someone preparing to take a significant step.

"Would you like to share those thoughts with us?" I asked gently.

She took a breath that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her, the kind of breath that preceded important truths.

"There's something I need to tell you all," she said, her voice steady but carrying an undertone of nervousness. "Something important."

I reached over and touched her hand gently. "Take your time. We're here to listen."

She nodded, gathering herself, and I could see the moment she made her decision. The way her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted slightly. Whatever she was about to tell us, she'd found her courage.

"I think," she said, then stopped, shook her head, and started again with more conviction. "I know I have something important to share with all of you. But I want to make sure this is the right time and place."

"This is exactly the right time and place," Wes said softly. "Whatever you need to tell us, we're ready to hear it."

"Absolutely," Rhett confirmed, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it.

The room fell quiet except for the soft classical music, all of us focused completely on her. She looked around the table once more, meeting each of our eyes, and I could see her drawing strength from what she found there.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Okay."

But I could tell she needed just a moment more to gather herself. The atmosphere in the room was perfect for truth-telling, warm and safe and full of love, but what she was about to share was clearly something that required all of her courage.

I squeezed her hand gently and waited, knowing that when she was ready, she would speak her truth, and everything would change.