Inside is worse. Exposed beams. Fluorescent lights that flicker before fully committing to life. Concrete floors and walls with visible spalling, flaked patches where moisture has chewed through the surface. Water stains creep up one wall in a tide line.
I stop walking. “This building has been inspected?” I ask.
She glances back. “Yes.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
I step toward a support column and press my thumb against a cracked edge of concrete. It flakes under pressure. “This isn’t cosmetic,” I mutter. “Freeze-thaw damage. Load-bearing stress will accelerate it.”
She folds her arms. “We’re upgrading before we fully transition operations here. The report said it was safe.”
I narrow my eyes at the exposed rafters.
“Saint,” Silas warns quietly.
I clamp my jaw shut.
She walks to a shelving unit and pulls down two plastic wrapped items. One sky blue. One soft pink. She unwraps the pink one, revealing it to be a neatly folded blanket. She presses it into Silas’ hands.
“For Lucy.”
His throat works before he manages to speak. I look away. Some things aren’t mine to watch.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” She smiles. “These go in the box three months from now. They’re weighted and incredibly soft. Ranked highest for anxiety reduction.” She holds the blue one against her cheek.
Silas bends and kisses her again. Slower this time. Reverent. She lights up under it.
I shouldn’t want her. But I do. Even here. Even irritated. Even drowning in concrete dust and the hum of fluorescent lights.
I look at the crack in the floor again. I hate this building.
Graham
The interstate hums beneath us. I’m still riding the high of the warehouse tour. Of watching Lark move through her space. She’s so confident. Smart. Passionate. It’s incredibly sexy.
I can’t wait to talk to her about my own work. I have a feeling she’d challenge it. Ask the right questions. See the beauty in it.
Silas’s hand rests loosely on her thigh while he drives. I’m trying not to be disappointed by that. It makes sense. There are three of us and only one of her. We’ll have to share.
Still.
I’d hoped she’d choose to sit in the back with me.
He takes her hand in his. Then he stiffens.
“Lark.”
Something in his voice makes my alpha punch against the inside of my ribs.
He slides his hand higher, pressing his palm to the side of her neck. “You’re burning up.”
I lean forward from the backseat. “Beautiful?”
She turns toward me slowly. The overhead lights from passing cars sweep through the cabin and illuminate her face in flashes. Sweat beads above her parted lips. And her eyes—
