3. Jack

Chapter 3

Jack

I watch Lily out of the corner of my eye as I pull on my shorts. There's a part of me that wants to stay in this moment forever, but I know it's not fair to her. She deserves better than some alpha who can't even admit his feelings.

"See you after work?" she asks, her voice light and casual, like we didn't just have the kind of sex that leaves you questioning your entire existence.

"Yeah. It's not like I'll be far away," I reply, forcing a smile.

She giggles, and it fires up my lust engines again. I could go again with her right now. All day, every day, it seems.

As we head downstairs, Lily goes back to her shop and me back to the garden. I'm struck by how peaceful it is here. It is one of those towns where everyone knows each other, and there's a sense of community that's rare these days.

Picking up my pruning shears, I get to work, spending way more time than I should be in Lily's garden. It's perfectly tended because I always linger for longer than necessary just so I can be close to her. I have a dozen other jobs this week, but I'm in no haste to go right now. They'll get done, but I can't drag myself away. Not yet. Her slick is still coating my cock. I can smell it, and it's driving me wild. If I were able to suck my own dick, I'd have my head between my legs right now just so I could taste her again.

"Fuck, Jack," I grumble, shaking my head.

I shrug off the thoughts and focus on trimming the hydrangeas. I can hear Lily moving around the shop, her occasional laugh or snatch of a song she's humming. It's moments like these that make me think maybe there's more to us than just fuck buddies. Or there could be if I spoke up.

We've known each other since we were children. I know her inside and out. I know her secrets, even the one that haunts her. I'm here for her, and she doesn't even really know it. We never talk about it. But I'm here. Protecting her. Always. I've had so many opportunities to take my business into the Lake District's bigger towns and cities, but I stay for her. Every time for her.

I sigh, but the sound is cut off by a shrill sound blaring through the air, making me look up urgently.

It's not coming from Lily's shop, but I move quickly through the back door, crashing into her as she is on her way out. Grabbing her upper arms, I steady her, having nearly mowed her over, and she laughs, taking it in her stride.

"What is that?" I ask, looking over her shoulder.

"I was about to ask you the same thing!" she exclaims, and we both look back into the shop when the fire engine sirens add to the din.

"Shit!" Lily cries, and taking her hand, I lead her through the shop onto the street outside, where a crowd is gathering outside Fred's bakery.

Flames lick at the windows of Fred's bakery, and thick smoke billows into the summer sky. The air smells acrid, and there's a buzz of panic in the crowd. People are murmuring, trying to figure out if anyone is still inside.

My heart twists at the thought—Fred's in his sixties and not exactly spry. He likes the taste of his own goods, and it's not surprising, really. I don't see him outside with everyone else. Lily's grip on my hand tightens as we push through the crowd to get a better look.

"Where's Fred?" she asks, eyes wide with worry.

"Over here!" someone calls out, and I spot Sam waving urgently from beside the fire engine, already suited up and looking every bit the hero he is. "He's still inside!"

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline as Sam Knightley races inside the burning building.

We wait with bated breath as he returns moments later with Fred, coughing and choking on the smoke.

"Oh, thank God," Lily murmurs, her relief evident as she tightens her grip on my hand. I can feel her whole body trembling, and instinctively, I pull her closer, offering some semblance of comfort.

Fred is doubled over coughing violently, but otherwise looking like he'll be fine. The crowd lets out a collective sigh of relief, and the tension in the air begins to dissipate.

"Sam Knightly is a hero," Lily says softly, admiration clear in her voice. I can't help the twinge of jealousy that flares up. Sam's always been the one to rush in and save the day while I... well, I prune bushes and pine for a woman I can't admit my feelings to.

Sam takes over the hose, blasting at the fire, which is all but gone now, anyway.

Lily is still holding my hand as we watch Sam in action. The crowd starts to disperse, and the buzz of excitement calms down. I glance at her, realising she's still trembling slightly.

"You okay?" I ask, my voice low, just for her.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just glad Fred's alright."

"Me too," I say, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. The moment stretches out between us, filled with unspoken words and lingering touches. But before it can turn into anything more, she steps back.

"I should probably get back to the shop," she says, a little too quickly, as the paramedics help Fred into the back of an ambulance.

I nod, watching her retreat into the shop. My heart aches a bit as she disappears inside. There's a part of me that wants to follow her, to tell her everything I'm feeling, but now's not the time.

Sam walks over after finishing up with the fire crew, looking rugged and heroic as always. His sandy blond hair is mussed from the helmet, and there's a smudge of soot on his cheek. I mentally roll my eyes at my packmate.

"Hey man," he says, clapping me on the shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"Working on Lily Bloom's garden," I murmur, feeling inadequate and a bit of a tool in comparison to his dramatic rescue. No one cheers for the guy who trims the hedges. Sam raises an eyebrow, but I don't give him the opportunity to ask as I ramble on. "How's Fred?" I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from Lily.

"He'll be fine," Sam says, grinning. "Stubborn old man didn't want to leave his pastries behind."

I chuckle despite the unease still gnawing at me. "Sounds like Fred."

The crowd has mostly dispersed now, leaving just a few curious onlookers and the fire crew finishing up their work.

"I should probably get back to it," he says, slapping me on the back.

"Same. Catch you later."

We part ways, and I slope off back to the shop garden, rethinking all my choices in life thus far.