I sit with that. It is a strange occurrence in Honeycreek Hollow where everyone knows everyone... Maybe a competitor? Some of them are far from here so that’d make sense. Though, of course, it could also be...
Bram:Think it’s Luna’s ex?
Reed:Could be. But I’m not putting that word in front of her without something solid. No reason to wind her up over a maybe.
He’s definitely right about that...
Reed:Anyway, we’ve finished our work for today so I’m taking her into town. Burgers, then ice cream, maybe a walk. We’ll be back around 5pm, probably...
Bram:Sure, have fun.
I set the phone down.
Town, ice cream, a nice walk in the afternoon with our scent match... sounds really nice. And I must admit I feel envious he gets to do this with her while I’m here with the numbers.
I exhale a sharp breath.Anyway...
More cameras. I pull the spreadsheet back up, hunting for a budget line the money could come out of. Unsurprisingly, it turns out I’ll have to carve it from another category that was already stretched too thin.
But I’m not about to put a price tag on the orchard and the pack being safe, especially when I hope Luna will stay.
I lean back, let the office go quiet around me and let out a sigh.
I also want to share an ice cream with Luna...
Screw it.
I pick the phone back up and thumb over to Ash. It rings twice.
“What’s up.” A door shuts behind him. “Any news on how our omega’s surviving her day of shadowing Reed?”
“Let’s just say they had themselves an adventure without us,” I say, reaching over the back of the chair to grab my jacket. “What do you say we put together something chill for her when they get home, so we can all enjoy it together?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he says, the grin clear in his voice.
30
Luna
Reed takes the last curve of the driveway at a speed I’d describe as legally ambitious, one wrist hung over the wheel, the low sun strobing through the tree line.
“Admit it,” he says. “Best second-best day of your life.”
“Second-best?”
“First one’s whenever your next day with me is. I like to leave room to grow.” He flashes me a grin, wide and shameless.
In his defense, itreallywas a nice day. I had a burger, half his fries, and a double scoop of something the ice cream place called Apple Pie in a Cone, which delivered on every word of the contract. And somewhere in there, I caught a saboteur. I’ve decided I’m allowed to be a little proud of that one.
The porch light is already on when the truck crunches to a stop. Reed kills the engine, and the house reaches me through the open window: butter, cinnamon and warm sugar, leather-and-coffee underneath, cedar-and-chocolate under that, all of it drifting out in one slow wave. Yum.
We climb out of the truck, and when I reach the second porch step, my feet stop.
“Hey.” Reed’s holding the screen door, watching me. “You good?”
I close my eyes and take one long breath, all the way down. “Definitely,” I say, opening them on a smile. I’m better than good.
Inside, the living room has been rearranged. Both couches shoved together to face the TV, the seam stuffed with cushions, a stack of blankets on one armrest tall enough to qualify as a medium-risk fire hazard. Bram’s at the stove with a pot and a lid, shaking it in slow circles and spreading the buttery smell of popcorn.
