I’m not surewhatI deserve when it comes to romance, but I have very strong opinions about my twice-a-year heats. I like privacy, fresh air, a set of tried-and-tested heat aids, and a pretty view when I come out of my haze. But my chat with Kaysie has left me feeling uneasy, so after I’ve made another couple of deliveries, I drive the truck out to Willow Lake. Thick pines, cottonwoods, and willow trees nestle right up to the lake’s edges, with smooth, dark rocks and fallen branches forming a shallow teardrop dam. There are only two points where you can easily enter the lake, and the clearings face each other across the sparkling, azure water. Since one is a private dock and the other down a twisting, bumpy road, tourists tend to head to moreaccessible campgrounds on the other side of town, which is why I’ve always been confident to spend my heats out here. It also helps that a heat in a trailer by a lake is about as different as you can get to one in thousand-count sheets in a fancy Hollywood suite.
I groan as I watch a moving van bump over the narrow trail to stop at the foot of Willow Manor. The rambling, gothic-inspired mansion has had plenty of owners over the years, but for the last decade it belonged to a recluse called Herbert Buck. He was a retired lawyer from Boise who wanted to get away from his ungrateful offspring and live out his final days in peace. As fate would have it, he fell and broke his hip on the steep stairs, and one of his kids moved him to a retirement home back in the city. A week later the house was on the market, but according to Sue Ellen, Knotty Falls’ one and only realtor, she hasn’t had so much as a nibble in months.
As I watch a bunch of burly men climb out and start unloading the van, I sigh. I suppose it was just a matter of time before someone snapped up such a hidden gem, especially if they have the money to turn it into a real retreat. Fingers crossed the new owner will be another oddball like Herbert Buck, who won’t even notice my old Airstream parked by his lake twice a year.
Deciding there’s not much I can do about it now, I drive back home, the unsettled feeling fading as I turn up the gravel drive to Rosie’s Blooms. Rosie’s parents bought the land when it was a rundown riding school, but now the farm is part of Idaho’s growing agritourism industry. As well as supplying a number of florists across the state, we’re open seasonally for visitors to come pick a bucket of flowers or berries, and to attend special events throughout the year.
It's another hot June morning, and I cast an assessing eye over the fields as I park the truck under the willow tree nextto Rosie’s old farmhouse. There’s a small store between the house and the public part of the farm, and tomorrow it will be bustling with tourists. Right now, everything looks quiet, and as I head towards the house, I can feel my heartbeat settling into an easier rhythm. In fact, it’s almost peaceful, right up until a ball of golden fur dashes around the side of the porch and nearly knocks me off my feet.
“Hey Bloomer!” I laugh as two muddy paws are planted on my thighs and a mile-long tongue snakes its way along my cheek. “Miss me, buddy?”
Our devoted – and very dusty - farm dog showers me in the boisterous affection of a two-year-old golden retriever, wiggling so hard he almost levitates off the ground. But in the next meaty breath, he’s distracted by a butterfly and scampers off in pursuit. Brushing dog hair and mud flakes off my jeans, I mount the porch steps, checking on the pots of begonias by the door before heading inside. Leo is over at his best friend Cody’s house, so I take a moment to enjoy the rare solitude, even as I sniff for the lingering scent of my favorite person in the world. When I spy his baseball cleats on the floor next to a puddle of OJ, I huff and clean it up, shaking my head as I climb the creaking stairs. Framed pictures smile down at me, and I trail a finger over Leo’s gap-toothed smile, my annoyance at his mess melting away like ice on a hot griddle.
You need to up your parenting game, Lily, or you’re going to be more trampled than that doormat out front.
I sigh, adding a scolding to the mental list of things I need to do today.
The problem is there’s just so much to do, and only one pair of hands to do it with.
Not that I begrudge Rosie taking her road trip of a lifetime. She was there for me in the hardest days of my pregnancy, then toiled tirelessly at my side as we worked to keep boththe business afloat and our newest family member flourishing. Without my adoptive mom’s endless reservoir of love, I’m not sure what would have happened to Leo, but he certainly wouldn’t be the blooming, full-of-life kid he is today.
With a tired smile, I strip my bed, and after adding Leo’s overflowing hamper, head down to the basement. The old farmhouse is creaky and well-worn, but it’s as solid and sturdy as a ponderosa pine, and so far, our tight budget hasn’t had to stretch to any major repairs. Thankful for small mercies, I start a load of laundry and grab some potatoes and onions from the cool room and a smoked sausage from the deep freeze. Back in the kitchen, I defrost the sausage and get to work on preparing the vegetables for the slow cooker. I’m just rinsing off my hands when the back door slaps open and I look up to see Logan Sawyer, my next-door neighbor and life-long crush, swiping the battered ballcap from his head.
There’s no denying the shiver that works its way down my body as our gazes meet. Kaysie wasn’t wrong when she said I fell for Logan the first time I saw him, back when I was a gawky teen and he was the mysterious boy moving in next door.
He was big and strong even then, and a decade in the military has only packed on the muscle. It still gives me a shock to see the alpha living inside my crush’s skin, and I feel my senses prickle with awareness as I stare into his dark eyes. At six-four, he’s a whole foot taller than me, but it’s the intense way he holds himself that intimidates more than his size. He’s told me in the past that a lot of his military tours were spent hunkered down and waiting, and he still carries that coiled tension in his body, despite the old jeans, flannel shirt, and dusty work boots.
“Hey, LeeLee.”
He’s the only person other than Rosie who calls me that, and I give him a guarded smile. He’s been home a couple of weeks, but I’ve been busy with the early summer rush, and he’s spent longdays in town, negotiating the purchase of Knotty Falls’ one and only gym. We’ve caught up over dinner most nights, but with Leo hanging off his every word, we haven’t strayed into more personal topics. Like when we’re going to act on the way my pulse skyrockets every time he looks at me with those midnight eyes. “Everything okay?”
He crosses the room with the stride of a man on a mission, and I find myself backing up before he reaches the kitchen island. He doesn’t circle around it, but the slab of granite he helped install a couple of years ago feels as flimsy as cardboard with him looming on the other side. He presses his knuckles against the stone, and my heart flutters like a hummingbird as a slow smile spreads across his face. “It’s done, LeeLee. Moto Gym is now mine.”
I drop the dishcloth I’ve been clenching in my hands and move towards him. His arms open wide, and he gives a relieved sigh as I step into his embrace. “I’m so happy for you, Logan. Before you know it, you’ll have this whole town whipped into shape.”
“I’ll admit, there are some locals I’m dying to get my hands on,” he murmurs, his scent thickening as his thumbs press along my spine. “Not you, though. You’re banned from joining, ‘cos I don’t want you changing a bit.”
My heart gives another helpless flutter as his nose drops to trail across my throat, breathing me in. He’s so close to my scent gland - that delicate patch of skin that’s an omega’s most carefully guarded erogenous zone - and I have to clutch his arms to stay upright. “Logan…”
“Just let me hold you,” he mutters, his temple pressed to my cheek. “You’ve been pushing me away since I got home.”
“Not true,” I murmur, even as my head turns away from his searching lips. “We just haven’t had time to talk properly.”
“I don’t think words are what’s needed here, sweetheart.” To prove his point, he scoops his hands under my ass and lifts me onto the counter. I’m suddenly reminded of howalphahe is, always stepping in and doing things before anyone thinks to ask him. Most of the time it’s a relief to have him take control, but as he presses between my parted thighs, the hot possession in his eyes is enough to make my head spin. “We just need to move things along, right where they’ve always been heading.”
I lean back on a hand, determined to set the pace – or at least try to slow the thundering of my heart. It’s hard to deny Logan anything when every atom in my body is screaming to lean into him and let go. But as right as this feels when his arms are around me, history has taught me to always hold back a part of myself. “Where have we been heading, Logan? Because we’ve been living separate lives for a long time.”
It’s impossible to miss his flinch, especially with my hands resting on his shoulders. “Adjacent, not separate,” he murmurs as he trails his thumbs up the seams of my jeans, “and I always wanted more. I just had to be in a place where I could give you everything you deserve.”
Logan’s always had an extremely structured life plan. Military. Business. Bonding. Family. I think it comes from his mom sending him to stay with his uncle for a summer– and then never coming back to get him. Certainties are important to him, and I can see the shadows in his eyes as he asks, “Or have I left it too long, and you don’t want me anymore?”
Ugh. That tremor of hurt in his voice is like a bolt to my heart.
“Of course, I do.” There’s no point denying it when my entire body is humming at his nearness. “But loving you and trusting that you know what you want are two different things.”
He gives a slow nod, but the disappointment in his eyes hardens into a familiar determination. Logan has never met a challenge that he didn’t immediately set out to conquer. “I wantthis more than anything. And I wouldn’t have bought the gym if I wasn’t staying, LeeLee.”
“I know you believe that.” I press my hand to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under the flannel. It doesn’t matter if it’s dead winter and he’s just got out of a cold shower, Logan always radiates the most tantalizing heat. Throw in a square jaw, midnight eyes, and a hard body covered in ink and is it any wonder I can’t keep my hands off him? “Logically, I know that you’re committed to us. I just…”
