“That’s so Elijah.”
“That’s our boy.” Ben straightens and pulls me close—or as close as my belly allows. His scent wraps around me, leather and musk and warmth. “Milo’s shift ends at six. Thought we’d go down to the bar. Get some dinner.”
“You mean I’d go down to the bar, eat all his fries, and pay for nothing?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” He grins. “Some traditions are sacred.”
It started during the blizzard—before we’d bonded, before I’d admitted what I wanted, before everything changed. Milo bringing me food I didn’t ask for. Me eating it anyway. The first crack in my defenses.
Now it’s our thing. Three or four nights a week, we pile into Ben’s truck and drive to The Barn Bar. Milo works his magic behind the counter, and I sit in my usual spot and watch him charm the whole room.
Then he brings me fries. Extra crispy, extra salt, extra everything.
And I pay for them with kisses.
Ben settles onto the porch swing and tugs me down beside him, one arm around my shoulders, his other hand finding my belly. He can never stop touching them. None of them can.
“You remember the auction?” he asks, out of nowhere.
“You mean the night you spent twelve hundred dollars buying your own packmates because you couldn’t handle the thought of anyone else winning a date with us?”
“That’s the one.”
I snort. “I remember. I was terrified up on that stage. Every time Maeve raised her paddle—driving up the price just to watch you sweat—I thought you were going to have a heart attack.”
“That woman is a menace.” But he’s grinning. “Worth every penny, though. Even if she did make me work for it.”
“Six minutes and forty-two seconds,” I remind him. “Bea timed it.”
“And she still hasn’t let me live it down.”
“She never will.”
“Nope.” But he’s smiling. “Worth every penny, though.”
Elijah appears from his workshop as the light goes golden, sawdust in his hair and quiet satisfaction in his scent. He joins us without a word, settling on my other side, his hand covering mine on my belly. Through the bond, I feel his contentment layer over Ben’s—steady and warm andhome.
Three bond marks. Two babies. One pack.
And me, in the middle of all of it. Finally where I’m supposed to be.
The Barn Baris packed when we walk in—Friday night, half of Honeyridge crowded around tables, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air.
Milo’s behind the counter, shaking a cocktail with more flair than strictly necessary. His eyes find mine the second we come through the door. They always do.
Through the bond, I feel his attention sharpen. His want, banked but present, curling warm beneath his ribs.
“There’s my girl.” He sets down the shaker and reaches for a glass. “Sparkling water with lime?”
“You know me so well.”
“I know you completely.” He slides the drink across the bar, then leans forward to kiss me. Right there, in front of everyone,his hand curling around the back of my neck to angle my mouth against his. When he pulls back, his thumb traces my bond marks and he purrs—low and private, just for me. “Missed you today.”
“You saw me this morning.”
“Too long.” His dark chocolate and amber scent wraps around me, mixing with Elijah’s cedarwood and honey and Ben’s leather and musk until I’m drowning in pack. “How are my babies?”
“Kicking up a storm. I think they know their dad makes the best fries in town.”
