Close enough that I feel the heat of him at my back.
Close enough that I want to lean.
This isnotgood.
I pull away too fast, nearly knocking over the stool beside me. “I think I need a break.”
He steps back immediately, hands up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to crowd you.”
“It’s okay,” I lie, voice breathy.
“Wren…”
“I’m just hot,” I mumble, retreating to the open door and gulping fresh air like I’ve been drowning. “I really appreciate the help.”
He nods, gaze cautious now. “Sure. Anytime.”
I watch him go, his broad shoulders disappearing around the side of the café. The silence he leaves behind hums with tension I don’t want to name.
Back inside, I sit on the cool tile and press my palms to my cheeks.
I cannot do this.
I will not be the kind of Omega who melts just because an Alpha smells like sugar and sin. I’m not some delicate thing waiting for a bond to snap into place.
I am Wren Aldridge.
And I came back to rebuild. Not unravel.
Especially not for a man like Beau Rhodes.
Even if he is dangerously easy to smile at.
Even if his voice already makes me want to throw away all my rules about staying away from Alphas.
I exhale.
Hard.
And remind myself—again—that reacting isn’t the same as choosing.
And I don’t choose him. Not today.
Not yet.
Pancake pads over from where he’s been lounging under one of the tables, stretching long and dramatic like this is just another regular day.
His tail curls lazily around my leg before he hops up onto the newly cleared counter and blinks at me like I’ve been a mild disappointment. Typical.
I sink next to him, brushing sawdust from my tank top and feeling the burn of exertion in my arms. The room is now brighter and cleaner. The busted paneling’s stacked, the broken shelves dismantled.
Beau did more than help—he made it feel possible. Even if, by the end, I couldn’t think straight with him standing that close, or smelling like that.
Cinnamon and honey. Heat and danger.
I glance over at Pancake, who lets out a low chirp and stretches again, smug in that way cats have perfected.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even touch him.”
