“Didn’t you already use some?” I ask, hopping up onto the counter beside him.
He shakes his head, still focused on the stove. “That was for the chicken. I need fresh for the finish, or it’s gonna taste flat.”
I nudge his side with my foot. “There’s that produce market on the corner. I’ll run down and grab it.”
His head snaps toward me. “No.”
I blink. “No?”
“You’re not going out alone.”
“Graham,” I say slowly, sliding off the counter and stepping into his space. “It’s a block away.”
“Carson and Hunter can grab it when they get back,” he insists, jaw tight.
“They’ll be back after dinner’s done,” I argue gently. “You know it’ll be better with the rosemary.”
His frown deepens, and I can see the battle behind his eyes.
“I’m a big girl,” I say, trying to soothe the tension winding through him. “I lived a whole life before you three showed up. I know how to cross a street and buy herbs.”
“That was before Finn.”
“He hasn’t been around for a while,” I add quickly. “And if he does show up? I’ll scream, I’ll kick, I’ll mace him with a bottle of organic basil oil—whatever it takes.”
That earns me the ghost of a smile. I know it wouldn’t come to that, but if it puts Graham at ease, I’ll say it.
I rise on my toes and press a kiss to his jaw. “Come on, alpha. Trust me, just a little.”
He closes his eyes at the contact. So I keep going—another kiss, this time to the corner of his mouth. Then his other cheek.
“Please?” I whisper.
His hands settle on my waist, reluctant, but loosening. “In and out. You text the second you arrive, and the second you’re on your way back.”
I grin, triumphant. “Deal.”
And then, because I can, I kiss him properly—slow and deep and smug as hell. When I finally pull back, he’s glaringat me like I just cheated at a game he didn’t know we were playing.
“Manipulative omega,” he mutters.
I wink. “You love it, Alpha.”
He sighs, already reaching for his phone. “You better be back in ten.”
“I’ll be back in eight.” I flash him a grin as I grab my purse and head for the door.
As I exit my apartment building, the evening air hums against my skin—thick with heat, heavy with the low golden light of a summer sun on its descent.
I cross the street without checking Finn’s window. I already know it's dark. I noticed before I left. My gaze drifted there automatically—out of habit, curiosity… maybe hope. But the curtains were pulled. The lights were off. No sign of him.
Still, something in my pulse doesn’t settle.
The produce store is just a block away. Familiar. Comforting. The door creaks open, and a wash of cool air spills across my skin as the little bell above the entrance jingles.
I inhale. Lemons. Crushed mint. And something earthy beneath it all.
I head for the back. I know exactly what I’m after. Graham’s dinner is nearly done—whatever it is, it smells like heaven—and all we’re missing is the rosemary.
