It’s on my tongue to tell Lily it’s from the Italian food and not the cataclysmic orgasms, but she’s already rearing back, her mouth slack as her gaze bounces between us. When she settles on me, my heart sinks at the flash of betrayal in her eyes. It’s a moment of perfect vulnerability I’d kill to catch with my camera before the shutters come down, blocking those expressive blue windows from view. “Well, I suppose this explains why you weren’t into the U-Pick option.”
My brow furrows as she hefts a battered silver bucket. There are three others at her feet, all overflowing with perfect yellow roses. She refuses to look in Otley’s direction as she pushes the bucket into my arms. “I’m guessing these are for you.”
Her flat tone can’t disguise her hurt and I shoot Otley a murderous glance.What the hell?Did he have to drag her out here on such a ridiculous pretense? “They’re beautiful,” I tell her awkwardly. “Thanks for making the trip out.”
“You paid extra,” she mutters, staring down at the other buckets. As she wipes her hands on her dusty jeans, a wave ofher scent wafts in our direction, and I’m not surprised that Otley stiffens beside me. If she smells this good to me, what kind of torture must it be for her scent match?
Brutal, hopefully.
“We really appreciate it,” I tell her, but there’s enough disbelief in her eyes that shame heating my cheeks. “This isn’t a prank, Lily, I swear. I really am interested in filming the ad campaign at your farm.”
Her suspicious gaze settles on Otley for a second before she takes a step back. “That’s why you’re here?”
It’s obvious she’s asking about the silent alpha at my side and my cheeks burn hotter. “Otley owns the agency I work at. But I’m the one you’d be dealing with during the shoot.”
I was hoping to reassure her, but she is already shaking her head, and there’s no missing the tremble in her hands as she stuffs them in her jeans’ pockets. “I don’t think my place will be available. It’s a busy season for us, and I need to focus on my customers.”
I palm my flushed neck, which only draws her attention to the twin mating bites on my throat. I’m pretty sure Otley’s mark is sporting a fresh set of teeth marks, and her eyes widen as she backs up another step.Fuck me. “Why don’t you come inside, and we can talk about it?” I ask, almost frantic to stop her retreat. Her scent is now sour with distress, and it feels like a huge hand is squeezing my throat.And not in a fun way. “Or, at least, let me get you a cold drink. It’s sweltering out here.”
She glances down at herself, her cheeks going pink as she takes in her stained, sweaty clothes. “I really don’t have time. But if you want me to leave the buckets here, I can send someone to collect them in the morning.”
Otley, finally, opens his mouth. But instead of an apology for being an insensitive ass, he says, “I’ll pay you double to come inside and arrange them yourself.”
Lily stares at him like he just asked her to run naked into the lake. “I don’t need your money, Mr. James. In fact, consider the buckets a housewarming gift.” Her eyes flash, so blue they look almost violet in the dim porch light. “They’re great for feeding pigs and lugging manure.”
It’s pretty obvious she thinks we’re practiced at both, and she stumbles backwards, narrowly missing one of the buckets as she lurches towards the porch steps. Otley lets her get as far as her truck door before he calls, “I’m here to make things right, Lily. For you and your son. So you’re going to have to talk to me sometime.”
Her cheeks are now so pale I’m worried she’s going to pass out, but she just shakes her head and throws herself into her truck. I wait until she’s peeled away in a blizzard of gravel before I turn and glare at Otley.“Great apology, Alpha. I just hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”
CHAPTER FOUR – LILY
I’m here to make things right.
For you and your son.
A declaration that would have once made me dance for joy, especially from the lips of my delicious scent match, Otley James.
But nothing crashes me back to reality as hard as seeing him standing next to my mini crush, freshly fucked and wearing a pair of alpha bites on his pretty throat.
I groan the entire way home, a desperate, frightening sound that makes my throat ache and my head throb. Because a much more terrifying truth is also staring me in the face.
He’s come for Leo.
I white-knuckle the wheel, forcing myself to ease off the gas before I run myself off the road. It’s dark and I’m exhausted after a hectic day on the farm. Wrapping myself around a tree wouldn’t help anyone, except perhaps Otley if he’s really here to rip my son from my arms.
Or,ourson, since it’s a reality I can’t ignore. Biologically, Leomost likely came from Ellis, but Otley was there too. Every slick-drenched, scent-wrapped step of the way.
And whereisEllis? Is he lurking around here somewhere, too? Maybe they’ve set up an ambush, and when I least expect it, he’ll wave his parental rights in my face so he can whisk Leo off to California.
Over my dead body.
Forcing down my spiraling panic, I flick on the radio, letting the soothing sounds of Norah Jones wash over me. But there’s no getting past the shocking discovery that keeps playing on a loop in my head. The new owners of Willow Manor are far from strangers, and they can only be here for one reason.
I grit my teeth on another panicked groan.
Of course, I worked out who they were a few years back, right about the time I sat down in a dark movie theater and saw Ellis Castle’s face staring back at me from the screen. Once I knew his full name, it wasn’t difficult finding them both on social media. All my attempts to contact them through Crest had gone nowhere, but on Leo’s fourth birthday, I thought about reaching out directly. But Logan had just come home from his latest tour, and I kept putting it off, convincing myself that it was a waste of another postage stamp. Every picture had the guys at some fancy party, or on an exotic movie set with dozens of people fawning all over them. They clearly weren’t father material, and since every attempt to convince them otherwise had failed, I decided to put an end to my low-key stalking. That was three years ago, and as far as I was concerned, a chapter of my life that I’d never open again.
Except that during the time I put myself on an Ellis and Otley ban, I’d missed their courtship of an adorable beta photographer named Tristan Berkeley. I can’t help wondering how they met, and I’m pretty sure my curiosity is tinged with jealousy. And given my muddled state of mind, is it any surprise that I can’t sayexactlywhoI’m jealous of - my scent mates, or the guy who got their forever bond?
