"We're clear," I say. "No bites. Just... being there for you."
She swipes at her eyes, laughing wetly. "Okay. Okay good. Because I do want to bond with you. All of you. Eventually. Just?—"
"Not in three weeks when you're in heat," River finishes. "That's smart, sweetheart. That's really smart."
She's affected. More than she's letting on. Pre-heat making her restless.
"I want..." She looks at me, and there's heat in her gaze mixed with something frantic.
"What do you want, sweetheart?" River's voice has gone low.
"I want Seth to take me on that Christmas lights date. Tonight."
"Yeah?" My pulse kicks.
"Yeah." Her scent blooms warmer, more insistent, but her voice has an edge of frustration. "I want—I need some time with just you. Please. And yes, I know I sound desperate. It's the pre-heat. I'm owning it."
"Okay." I'm already standing, already reaching for her hand. "Okay, sweetheart. Let's go."
She practically launches herself off the couch, her hand gripping mine tight.
"Go," River says, amused but concerned. "Call if you need anything."
Grayson stands, approval in his dark eyes. "Take care of her."
"Always," I promise.
The truck cabfills with her scent before we even leave River's driveway.
She's tucked against the passenger door, wrapped in my department jacket that's too big on her, but she's fidgeting. Restless. Her leg bouncing, fingers plucking at the jacket hem.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
"No. Yes. I don't know." She laughs, but it sounds strained. "Everything feels too tight. Like my skin doesn't fit right. Is that normal? Or am I just losing my mind in a really uncomfortable way?"
"I think so. Pre-heat stuff." I pull onto Main Street. "Do you want me to take you home instead? If you're not feeling good?—"
"No!" Too quick, too sharp. "Sorry. I just—I don't want to go home. I want this. I want you. Just..." She makes a frustrated sound. "Can we please talk about something other than how my body is betraying me? Because this is not how I planned our first real date to go."
I drive.
I take the turn toward the outskirts of town, where the streetlights fade and the forest presses close. The same route I took her that first night, when we almost kissed before the emergency call.
Main Street is lit up with Christmas lights now—they turned on two weeks ago, and Tessa's been adding more decorations everywhere. But I'm not taking her to see those.
We reach the overlook—barely a pulloff, really—where you can see all of Honeyridge Falls spread out below. Lights twinkling against the dark mountains. Snow dusting the peaks. The whole town glowing with Christmas decorations.
I park and kill the engine.
"Our spot," Bea says softly.
"Yeah." My heart stutters. She called it "our spot."
"Last time we were here, we almost—" She stops.
"Almost kissed. Before the emergency call." I risk looking at her. "I think about that a lot."
"Me too." Her voice is quiet. "What would have happened if the call hadn't come through?"
