Page 84 of Pistols & Peonies

My brow furrows. “How?”

“I’ll speak to the owner,” he murmurs. “Either he shuts it down quietly, or he goes to Alpha himself and pays up.”

I study him for a long moment, trying to reconcile this man with the one who threatened to drag me in front of Alpha just last night.

“That’s… diplomatic of you,” I say.

He shrugs like it’s nothing.

“Did you hit your head on the way home last night?” I ask, aiming for teasing but hearing the strain in my own voice. “Since when do you do anything that isn’t strictly by the book?”

He pins me with a look so intense that my knees go a little weak. “I protect what’s mine,” he growls.

The air punches from my lungs, heat curling low in my belly.

He turns back to the groceries, unpacking them with methodical precision while I try to regain some semblance of composure. The coffee machine finishes brewing with a soft beep, bitter steam curling into the air and tangling with the lush sweetness of peonies.

It’s a strange combination, sharp and soft. Kinda like us.

I realize, with a jolt of panic, that I could get used to this. To quiet mornings at the lake with someone who cares in his own warped way.

As if summoned by the thought, Kane pulls a box of Lucky Charms from the grocery sack and sets it on the counter. My breath catches, but if he notices my reaction, he doesn’t let on. He just moves to the fridge, sliding a carton of milk inside like it doesn’t mean anything.

But it does.

It means he’s been paying attention.

I’ve been so focused on who I thought Derek Kane was– the Commander, the enforcer, the man everyone fears– that I never let myself consider he could be anyone else.

And if I’m wrong about him… then I might be wrong about us, too.

And that changes everything.

CHAPTER 28

Kane

“So, I was thinking I’d come by tonight.”

“Tonight’s no good,” I grumble, shifting the phone to my other ear.

My brother huffs on the other end. “Why not? Didn’t you just say you’re at the lake?”

“Yeah, but I’m not alone,” I reply, my gaze fixed out the kitchen window.

Violet’s out on the dock, framed in late afternoon light that spills molten gold across the lake. The water is glassy and still, reflecting the treeline in deep emeralds and shadowed greens. She stands at the very edge, bare feet curled over the sun-warmed planks, staring out at the horizon like she’s plotting something.

How to unravel my life even further, probably.

“My mate’s here.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Whit barks a laugh that pierces my eardrum. “Oh shit. You brought her out to the lake?” His voice shifts immediately, thick with implication. “That’s sacred ground, man. Must be getting serious.”

“Shut up,” I murmur, distracted.

Violet lowers herself to sit on the edge of the dock, legs dangling over the side. My t-shirt hangs loose on her frame, swallowing her shoulders and skimming the tops of her thighs. The hem flutters in the breeze, brushing sun-kissed skin.

She looks way too good in my clothes.