“Do you think she’s ready?” I ask, thinking about her face in the car, the way she hesitated before asking if I was jealous. She’s fragile, in a way. Strong, but carrying heavy baggage. “We just dropped the ‘we all like you’ bomb on her.”
“Which is exactly why we need to do this,” Fallon insists. “We like her, Eli. We’ve told her that. Now we need to see what she’s thinking. Is she interested? Is she terrified? Does she want to bolt?”
I nod slowly. It makes sense. “I think that’s a good idea. Just... take it slow. Don’t overwhelm her.”
“We’re Alphas,” Knox says, drying his hands on a towel with aggressive precision. “We’re capable of controlling ourselves. Mostly.”
“Mostly,” Fallon echoes with a smirk.
“So, we do it,” I say. The thought settles in my chest, warm and right. “We have her over.”
“When?” Fallon asks.
“Tomorrow night,” Knox decides. “Sunday is usually quiet at the restaurant. We can close early.”
“What will we eat?” Fallon asks, perking up. “If I’m cooking, we’re doing steak.”
“I will cook,” Knox says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “If we’re doing this, we do it properly. I will make a roast. With root vegetables and a red wine reduction.”
“Classic Knox,” Fallon laughs. “Meat and potatoes.”
“It works,” Knox says. “You two handle the invite. Make sure she knows she doesn’t have to come. No pressure.”
“I’ll text her,” I say. “Let her know we want to talk.”
“Good.” Knox glances at the clock on the wall. “Now, if we’re done analyzing my cooking, I’m going to bed. I have a menu to finalize in the morning.”
“I just love annoying you,” Fallon tells Knox.
Knox walks past him, cuffing him lightly on the back of the head. “Sois pas le con.Go to sleep.”
“Goodnight, Mom,” Fallon grumbles.
Knox ignores him, heading up the stairs to his room. The warehouse settles back into silence.
I look at Fallon. He’s watching me, a knowing look in his eyes.
“You smell like her,” he says quietly.
I flush. “Yeah.”
“And like sex.” He stretches his arms over his head, his joints cracking. “Must have been a good talk in the car.”
“It was,” I admit.
“Good.” He stands up and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Get some sleep, brother. Tomorrow we start figuring out how not to screw this up.”
“Right.”
I watch him head to his room, closing the door behind him. I stand alone in the middle of the living area for a moment, listening to the hum of the refrigerator.
A dinner. Just the four of us. It sounds simple, but I know it’s not.
It’s a crossroads. We’re inviting her into our sanctuary, into the heart of the pack. If she says yes, if she walks through that door tomorrow night, everything changes.
I turn off the floor lamps, plunging the room into darkness, and head for my own bed. My body is tired, but my mind is wide awake, replaying the feeling of her skin under my hands, the sound of her saying my name.
We’re in trouble. The best kind of trouble.
