Page 46 of A Dash of Wolf

He gave her a small smile. “The tantrum Ivan had was priceless. You would have appreciated it.” He tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear and tilted her chin up. “I’m sorry for how I handled this. All of it. But especially the part where you came to me to tell me what you knew, and I sent you away. I’m ashamed of the way I reacted to your news, Adeline. I should have seen where you were coming from. Instead, I reacted in my typical unyielding, law enforcement way.” He cupped her face in his big hands. “It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She pulled away from him and sighed. “There are some things I haven’t told you, Mason. About my parents. About why I fight like I do.” She forced a smile. “Why I resist the Beaumont name.”

“I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me.”

And so she told him.

She told him about the night her parents had died. How Grandmother Lavinia had insisted they both attend the founding family gala even though Adeline’s mother hadn’t been feeling well. How her parents had gotten in the car because duty came first and Beaumonts showed up and you didn’t say no to Lavinia Beaumont. How a massive live oak had fallen across the road and crushed their car, and how they’d both died before anyone could reach them.

She told him about being ten years old and waiting for them to come home. Only they never did. About Grandmother Lavinia telling her to pack up her belongings because she was living with her at the mansion. The pain of being ripped from the only home she’d ever known—away from Emory, away from Granny Edna, away from the warmth and chaos of the Ashgrove family—and living in the austere Beaumont mansion on the hill while her grandmother drilled into her every day the importance of Beaumont duty. She’d lost her parents, her home, and everything she loved...and still she’d been forced to embrace the very thing she felt caused her to lose all of it.

The Beaumont name. And the legacy behind it.

She told him about the twelve-person dining table with ten empty chairs. About learning to sit up straight and speak properly and how best to represent the family name. About her grief that was managed like a PR problem, and how her grandmother’s favorite saying growing up had been, “Beaumonts don’t fall apart, Adeline.” And then she told him how one day she’d stopped crying where others could see and started baking instead. Because flour and butter and sugar didn’t judge you. They just became whatever you needed them to be.

“And I think that’s why I balk at authority,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Why I chain myself to things and throw mud at trolls and fight for every underdog I can find.” She gave him a small, watery grin. “Part of it is because I resent being told what to do by people who think their name gives them the right. And the other part...” She laughed. “The other part is because I love it.”

Mason smiled and lightly squeezed her hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

Those five words made her smile, and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder and breathed him in. He smelled like cedar and soap, but more importantly, he was solid. He was there and not judging her. And for the first time in twenty years, the weight of the Beaumont name felt a little less like a chain and a little more like something she could carry on her own terms.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mrs. Abernathy sooner,” she said. “But I really did just find out, and I wanted to give her the opportunity to tell me why.”

“I’m sorry I told you to go back to your bakery.”

She pulled back and playfully swatted his chest. “That was pretty harsh.”

He winced. “I know. I’m sorry. I kicked myself the entire night for being so rough with you. But I guess now it’s my turn to confess. I wasn’t angry with you. I was hurt. I’d spent so many years keeping people at arm’s length, not getting close to them. And then for the first time I found someone who makes me want to let all those walls down, and I find out they felt they couldn’t trust me. And I didn’t know if it was because of something I’d done or said…or if it was because you just didn’t care about me enough to think of telling me. Like I was an afterthought.”

She lifted her hands to his face. “It wasn’t like that at all. It was about Mrs. Abernathy.”

He nodded. “I get that now. I feel like the words, ‘It’s not all about you, Mason,’ should be tattooed on my forehead.”

Adeline laughed and dropped her hands. “Let’s not do that.”

He clasped her hands in his. “I see you for who you are, Adeline. I don’t want to change anything about you. I love that you fight for those who are weaker than you. I feel I do the same in many ways. I love that you’re passionate and compassionate.”

He leaned in and kissed her, and once again she melted into him…melted into his embrace.

“Hey, wait,” she said, pulling back and waggling her eyebrows at him. “Does this mean you’re falling for me?”

He laughed and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly on the lips. “I guess I am.” He traced the side of her face with his fingertip. “There’s something else. Your grandmother spoke privately to me after the council meeting today.”

Adeline went still. “She what?”

“She came up to me and said if I wanted to ask you out, it would be...” He paused, and a grin spread across his face. “‘Acceptable’ to her.”

Adeline blinked. “Acceptable?”

“Her word. Not mine.” He laughed. “I’m not entirely sure what it means, but I took it as a win.”

Adeline shook her head slowly. Grandmother Lavinia, the woman who had sat across a mahogany table less than thirty hours ago and told Adeline to marry her “ilk,” had walked up to Mason Wolfe and told him it was acceptable to date her granddaughter.

Maybe their fight had done more good than Adeline realized.

“Well,” Princess Muffin Top said, shattering the magical moment. “I’ve made my decision.”

They pulled back and looked at her cat.