3. Snuggles and Suspicions

MARIGOLD

S leeping in a real bed for the first time in almost two years is a revelation. I want to moan from how good my muscles feel as I stretch and pull the covers higher under my chin, sinking back into the warmth. Maybe I’ll steal this mattress when I find my own place.

My phone beeps, warning me it’s time to get moving or I’ll be late.

Rolling out of bed, I stumble toward the bathroom, grateful I put away a few toiletries last night.

The bathroom door is closed. I stare for a moment, comprehension slowly creeping into my brain.

The door swings open and my new roommate faces me. A dark towel wraps his waist, and his platinum hair looks ashy as water drips down his neck. His bare chest gleams.

This isn’t anything like watching him spar or strip before shifting from across the training room. He’s so close I can smell his soap and see water droplets like pearls across his shoulders.

My inhale turns jagged and I step back carefully. Not an appropriate time to swoon.

“Good morning,” he says, a cocky grin showing off his dimples.

My mouth opens and no sound comes out. His confidence wavers, his expression flickering. “Went for a run this morning.”

“Sounds fun.” I finally say, failing to keep my eyes from roving. Across his ribs blooms a green and yellow bruise. For a bruise to still be visible overnight is surprising, meaning it’s either very fresh or he was hit hard. “Jasper, what happened?” I motion to my side.

He blinks and looks down, huffing when he realizes what I mean. “It’s nothing. Slate got me pretty good yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you go see my grandma? That looks nasty, she could have helped.”

His clear aqua eyes meet mine. “It’s fine. It’ll be gone by lunch.”

“Please take care of yourself,” I say, holding his gaze. With a wink, he reaches over and lightly tugs on the fluffy braid I put my hair in at night.

“How’d you sleep?”

Pulling out the hair tie, my fingers unravel the braid into loose waves. “Honestly, really good. I didn’t realize how poorly I was sleeping at my grandmother’s.”

“Good,” he says. For once he doesn’t seem quite so sure of himself. With an odd smile, he steps around me.

As Jasper disappears into his room, I shudder, trying to shake off all the tension from our encounter. I didn’t realize having a male roommate would involve quite so much bare skin and bulging muscles.

Today feels like a day to look cute. A few swipes of makeup, and my favorite sweater with strawberries stitched down the sleeves paired with black leggings, and I’m ready to go.

Jasper’s already left when I come out of my room. I’ll have to learn more about his work schedule, now that we are roommates.

The cabin is further from the school building than my grandmother’s cottage. I keep to the trees instead of cutting into the meadow. It’d be too easy for someone to spot me walking up from the south instead of my usual route.

Today will be busy. The children have a book report to finish and after lunch, we are taking a nature walk to look for insects. Science is a close second to my favorite subject after art.

I can’t help but scan for my friends as I pause at the doorway. A few pack members walk in various directions, but no Jasper. Not that I’m looking for him specifically. I’m sure he’s busy today too .

JASPER

The Alpha of Ironcrest arrives in a gray SUV. As he steps out and adjusts his jacket, the sunlight glints on his short silver hair. Zephyr has sharp features and dark eyes. Everything about him reminds me of a blade - polished, sharp, and as likely to help as harm depending on the situation.

His pack’s Gamma trails behind him, dark hair falling over his eyes. He’s noticeably shorter and wider but has laugh lines that suggest he’s friendly.

Zephyr’s Beta is conspicuously absent. But likely she was left at home as de facto leader.

Hawthorne greets them, walking across the gravel lot to shake the Alpha’s hand. Apprehension skitters across my skin. Ironcrest’s request to meet before the Counsel could be for any number of reasons, but I don’t trust Zephyr.

Spying from the hallway window, I watch the trio walk around the side of the office, where a door leads straight into our largest meeting room.

Heath strides toward me, followed by Slate and Hazel. “Go ahead and wait in the room, Jasper. We’ll be in after they’re settled.” Entering last is a power play.

My breathing is slow and even as I pull a calm mask over my anxiety. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone from another pack since defecting from Granite Ridge and joining Bracken Creek. An heir leaving their pack is unheard of, and I’m not sure what reactions to expect. Hopefully none. This meeting isn’t about me.

A live-edge conference table stretches the length of the room, surrounded by heavy, cushioned chairs for a dozen people. Zephyr lounges in a seat toward the center, facing the door. His cold eyes flick over me and stop on my face. I hold his gaze for a moment before looking away. Long enough that he knows I am not afraid of him nor am I ashamed of myself. Any longer, and it would be a challenge.

Muscles coiled tight, I take my place against the wall, off to one side. Hawthorne sits across from Zephyr but down two seats.

“Alpha Zephyr, you remember Jasper. He is a Zeta in our pack now,” Hawthorne says. Zeta, a guard. A respectable ranking, though it’s not an accurate description of my position. But Zephyr doesn’t need to know I was the one pulling the strings to arrange the Alpha Counsel.

“A Zeta? How ambitious of you,” Zephyr says with a cruel smile. A flush crawls up my neck and my hands ache to clench into fists, but I don’t give him another sign of my discomfort. His opinion doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to respect me, as long as he respects our Alpha and Betas.

Finally, the door opens and Heath fills the entire frame, Hazel and Slate hidden behind him. He’s taller than I am, and wider too, so he dwarfs everyone seated. The three wolves rise, and Zephyr reaches out to shake his hand.

“Good to see you again, Zephyr,” Heath says.

“Likewise.” Zephyr sits at the same moment as Heath. Hazel and Slate sit on either side of him, and Hawthorne is at Hazel’s left hand. I take the seat beside my brother .

“Hello, Dell,” Heath says.

“Alpha Heath,” the Ironcrest Gamma tips his head respectfully.

“I hope your pack has been well,” Zephyr says.

Heath folds his hands, resting his forearms on the table. “It’s been a good winter for us. And yours?”

Zephyr picks lint off his sleeve. “Successful. We have two newly mated pairs and welcomed a set of twins.”

I’ve only visited Ironcrest once, but I know it’s one of the larger packs. Close to Bracken Creek’s size, but smaller than Granite Ridge. But I don’t remember many teenagers or young adults. Perhaps they have been recruiting. The idea prickles like pins and needles through my body.

“Congratulations,” Heath says warmly.

Zephyr’s smile is smug. “Thank you.”

Heath pauses a beat, his eyes never leaving the other Alpha. The dominance struggle between them is suffocating, and the hair on my arms rises. But Heath’s authority feels like loyalty and encouragement, and Zephyr’s feels like arrogance.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious to know what you’d like to discuss,” Heath says expectantly.

Leaning back with his fingers steepled, Zephyr takes his time deciding what to say. His relaxed pose reeks of arrogance. “I felt we should clear up any misunderstandings about the unfortunate difficulties your heir faced last fall.”

“Ah, misunderstandings.” Heath echoes, his face betraying nothing .

We all knew Ironcrest aided Granite Ridge in taking Hazel hostage. So far, their denial has kept a shaky peace. If he admits to it now, it will have to come with apologies and reparations, otherwise Heath will be forced to take action.

Hazel’s knuckles are white where she grips her chair arms, though her shoulders are relaxed and her face politely serene. Beside me, Slate is slowly leaning forward, lining his feet up under him to prepare for a fight. I take a slow audible breath, hoping he will join me on instinct. He ignores me.

“I’m eager to hear any new information. Last time we spoke, you were unaware of any involvement,” Heath prompts.

Zephyr swallows, dipping his chin in a show of remorse that no one would believe. “Unfortunately, I did uncover something.”

Dell drops his gaze to the table. Heath and Slate make quite the overbearing pair. Though Zephyr and Dell are not in our pack, and therefore felt none of our shared emotions, even a human could sense the rising tension.

“Granite Ridge took Hazel and held her for several days before she was returned to you, correct?” He knows damn well what happened, and that Hazel escaped with assistance from me. We poisoned the entire pack and I defended her while she raced for the border and Slate.

Heath plays along. “Yes, I believe Sienna wanted a foothold in claiming our pack by forcing Hazel to become mates with her heir. ”

I appreciate Heath leaving my name out of it. But Zephyr’s gaze travels to me anyway. His neutral expression slips for a second, showing pure disdain. Hawthorne leans forward, a defensive barrier between our visitors and me.

“That always seemed like a foolish plan to me.” Zephyr sighs. “She wasn’t even a pack member, not really. What claim would she have even had? Your pack never would have accepted a rival’s heir mated to an outsider who only shared a familial connection.”

My hands clench under the table. Zephyr’s jab at Hazel annoys me, more than his offense toward me. Down the pack bond, irritation ripples, and I can’t tell if it’s primarily Slate, or perhaps the entire room.

“What information did you have for us?” Heath asks, redirecting the conversation.

Unfortunately, Zephyr isn’t finished. “It’s a good thing your Beta took a liking to her. Keeps anything from getting,” he says, pausing, “messy.”

“My heir would be quite capable on her own. But paired with a powerful mate, my pack’s future leadership is secure.”

It’s true. Slate is even stronger than I am. Not because he is about two years older and a few inches taller, but because of his natural drive.

“Yes, of course. You are blessed,” Zephyr continues.

He is antagonizing us, purposefully drawing this out. Heath must have realized it sooner because his pose has relaxed to match Hawthorne’s. Only Slate still looks murderous, and that would be the case regardless.

“Ferris approached me for help but never specified any plans. He must have known I wouldn’t support him in something so-” He searches for the word. “Deplorable.”

“Afterwards, I discovered some lower ranking wolves went behind my back.” His repentant expression seems sincere, but Heath’s mouth stays a flat line. He doesn’t give any indication that we were already aware of their involvement.

“It’s unfortunate those wolves forgot their place. I’ve banished those involved.”

By banished, I have to assume they went straight to Granite Ridge.

“And I’ve made it clear to Ferris that if his alliance means standing against our other allies, then Ironcrest is not interested.”

Silence stretches, Heath cocking his head as he regards Zephyr, reading little clues as to his truthfulness. Apprehension churns in my gut.

“I appreciate your apology and that you took their punishment so seriously,” Heath finally answers. “I hope you’re addressing any issues of loyalty. It must be difficult to manage such a large pack.”

It’s as close to an insult as Heath can get without outright disrespecting him. He’s baiting him back, testing his intentions.

“We’ve been assessing to be sure our remaining members are obedient,” Zephyr answers. Dell nods .

“Are loyalty and obedience the same thing?” Hazel says. Her voice is strong and steady. The corner of my mouth curves at her boldness.

“I guess not. But both are required, are they not?” Zephyr’s smile is snake-like. Slate bristles at how Zephyr’s eyes slide over Hazel.

“Perhaps,” Heath says, pacifying.

“If there is anything we can do to assist your pack and rebuild our friendship, please let me know,” Zephyr says.

“Your offense was against my heir so I will leave that up to her,” Heath says, nodding toward Hazel.

Her eyes narrow at Zephyr and his smile fades. “You were our ally once, but that relationship had deteriorated even before Granite Ridge’s actions, correct?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s past time for us to correct the situation.” Despite his respectful words, his lip curls for a split second before he regains his composure.

Hazel considers for a moment, causing Zephyr to grind his teeth.

“Alliances are built on communication. In addition to your participation in our upcoming Alpha Counsel, I think it would be wise for our Gammas to speak on a regular basis. I’m sure they can find ways we can collaborate.” Her voice is soft but firm.

“A commendable idea.”

Dell leans forward in his seat. “I look forward to hearing from you,” he says to Hawthorne. “It will be good to stay in closer contact.”

Hawthorne nods curtly .

“How has your contact been with Ferris in the last few months?” Slate asks.

“Minimal,” Zephyr answers, “I have tried to keep the channel open, but his belief that Granite Ridge is superior to all other packs makes it difficult to find any common ground. I’m afraid we aren’t the ally he was hoping for.”

Interesting word choice. It’s true that Ferris and Sienna believe they are above the other packs. But they wouldn’t withdraw from negotiations.

“Hopefully we all can find a way to reconcile peacefully,” Heath says.

“We will see,” Zephyr says.

Neither leader seems to believe that reconciliation is likely between Granite Ridge and the surrounding packs. Knowing their misdeeds, I am not surprised.

“You’ve given us a lot to think about. Was there anything else we needed to discuss before the upcoming Alpha Counsel?”

“Nothing that needs to be addressed today.”

Heath straightens, his hands falling to his knees. “Well, would you like to enjoy the lunch our chef prepared?”

My brows crease. Offering a meal to Zephyr is a way to offer alliance and friendship again. I know that’s the goal, but warning bells are still ringing in my head.

Zephyr shakes his head, pushing his chair back and standing. His fingers adjust the sleeves of his coat while his eyes travel over each of us. “I’m afraid we must be heading back. Our work is never complete, is it? ”

“Such is the role of a leader,” Heath says, his tone a little colder than before.

Hawthorne steps forward to open the door for our visitors. “Another time.”

“Of course.”

Heath remains standing so I hover nearby, waiting. After our guests have driven away, Hawthorne returns, his expression unreadable. The two men exchange looks.

“Well, how do we feel that went?” Heath asks.

“Interesting,” Slate says, “He seems sincere, but I’m not eager to trust him.”

“I’m not sure I expected him to own up to the role they played,” Heath says, his hand running over his short beard. “Perhaps Zephyr still has a sense of morality.”

“If he was telling the truth,” Hazel says.

“It’s hard for me to believe that he had pack members acting outside of his command,” I say.

Hawthorne crosses his arms. “Their pack has never been as close-knit as ours, but you have a point.”

“Do you think he ordered their actions?” Heath asks, his dark eyes boring into mine.

“Honestly, yes, I do,” I answer.

Hawthorne frowns. “No Alpha would lend out their wolves for hire.”

Despite my nerves, I raise my chin. “I know our Alpha would never do that, but Zephyr has shown to be unpredictable. And it’s not like Ferris to seek out individuals from another pack when he has plenty of his own. ”

“Did you know anything about the Ironcrest wolves?” Hazel asks, her amber eyes wide.

“No, I wasn’t told any details. I wouldn’t have known at all if I hadn’t smelled them on you.”

“Okay,” Hazel says, bobbing her head. Her hands go to Slate’s arm and he tugs her closer.

“It might be a good idea to increase surveillance,” Slate suggests.

“We can look into it,” Heath says.

“I also feel that we should consider more offensive training,” I say.

Hazel nods. “I think so too. We’ve been training in how to defend our pack, but we might need to attack at some point.”

Slate frowns, “Fisher would disagree with you.”

“Fisher will train what I ask him to,” Heath says. “I think we all need some time to process, and we can revisit the idea of offensive training tomorrow.”

“Yes, Alpha,” we echo.

MARIGOLD

As the school day ends, a certain gleefulness bubbles up inside of me. Rather than my grandmother’s sofa, I’m going home to a cozy cabin and a good friend who is extremely nice to look at.

The smell of fresh cut pine, cinnamon, and wool wraps around me once my feet step onto the knotty pine wood floor. Under the homey scent of the cabin, I can detect Jasper - he’s faintly spicy like cardamom, coffee, and something sweeter like vanilla .

But Jasper isn’t in the living room or kitchen, and his bedroom door hangs open. Hesitantly, I peer in. A queen bed stands with the headboard against a wide window with a line of little plants on the sill. A shirt is tossed over a chair and his quilt is thrown back to show crimson sheets. Apparently, his meticulous personality doesn’t extend to keeping his room perfectly tidy. It makes me smile even as my fingers itch to fold his laundry and make the bed.

I trudge to my own room, slip off my shoes, and flop onto my newly beloved bed. The house is so quiet, but it isn’t a lonely sort of stillness, it’s peaceful. As I relax, my exhaustion becomes harder to ignore. Maybe one solid night's sleep isn’t enough to make up for the last two years. I can’t help but slip into a late afternoon nap.

If I dream of anything, I can’t remember when I wake. The cabin is tranquil, like when I drifted off, but the light from my window has faded. Hopefully, I haven’t missed dinner.

Stretching, I take a few deep breaths and try to wake myself up. The scent of food filters in, telling me that either I’ve missed dinner or I’m very late.

Grabbing a hoodie, I rush out of my room toward dinner, but skid to a stop in the open living room when I spy an overflowing plate of barbequed meat and a loaded baked potato on the kitchen peninsula.

Jasper brought dinner back for me. My throat clogs and my eyes prick. No one has ever gotten me dinner when I was too busy to attend. I’m always the one making sure everyone else is fed. Not the other way around.

Grabbing my plate, I head toward the back door. It’s propped open with a rock that’s painted with a paw print, a relic of a previous tenant.

Jasper sits on the edge of the porch, one knee drawn up to steady his hand while he drags a small blade across a chunk of wood, shaving off thin curls.

“Is this for me?” I ask to be safe. Amusement flickers across his face in response to my silly question. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“I can’t let my roommate go hungry,” he says. His smirk twists my stomach.

“Did you tell anyone about our… situation?” My voice drops off.

He shakes his head, causing his pale hair to flop over his forehead. “I didn’t think you’d want people knowing. I can see how it would look weird.” With a sigh, he rakes his fingers through his hair and sweeps it away from his face.

“I’ve got a lot to thank you for,” I mutter between mouthfuls of potato.

“How about you start by taking it easier on yourself?” He bumps his shoulder against mine. The familiarity is comforting, but I have no idea what to say to him.

We sit quietly, his knife scraping and cutting away slivers of wood, and my fork steadily clearing my plate. I finish the last bite and take my dish to the sink. On the way back, I snag a pair of beer bottles from the fridge .

A lone overhead light illuminates the porch, casting long shadows down the steps. Jasper’s night vision is superior as a wolf shifter, and he’s able to continue his whittling when a human would have had to stop.

I hand him a beer. “So what are you making there?”

Jasper holds up the rough shape, rotating it for me to admire. “You can’t tell?”

“It’s a bobcat.” I guess the first thing that pops into my head.

He scowls. “Really?”

“Oh, an owl?”

“Not even close.”

“A hedgehog?”

“Stop, they’re getting worse,” he says, laughter breaking through his serious demeanor. “It’s gonna be a fox.”

“Oh, it looks exactly like a fox. Really great job.” My hand clamps over my mouth, stopping my giggles.

“You said I was like a fox, so I figured you might like a little fox,” he says absently, digging the tip of his blade under the bulbous top, now carving out what might be the muzzle, though it’s hard to be sure.

“This is cool, actually,” I say, trying to encourage him, though it looks like a blob to me.

His exhale is audible like an amused huff. “Well, Marigold, I’ve seen you do all sorts of crafty things with your students, but what activities do you like to do just for you?”

“I can’t remember the last time I had spare time to do anything creative,” I say, giving in to the urge to rest my head against his shoulder. He’s warm and steady, warding off the night’s chill.

“Well, what would you do if you had time?” he presses.

“Nap.” The glass bottle slowly twirls as I twist my fingers.

Jasper holds the wooden figure up, turning it side to side and measuring with his thumb. Satisfied, he returns to deepening grooves that might be the sides of the legs. It’s looking foxlike already.

“Other than naps. I know you’re hiding more talents from me,” he says, his smirk sending my heart tumbling.

“I like macramé.”

His blade pauses and he regards me for a moment. “Like the knots with the rope? Making hanging plant holders and stuff like that?”

“Yeah,” I answer, “it’s called cord, but you’ve got the idea. I haven’t gotten to do it since I was a teenager.”

“That’s actually pretty cool,” he says, now cutting into the wood to carve out what looks distinctively like two pointed ears.

“Did you think I’d be boring? Like my secret hobby is watching paint dry or organizing socks?” I try to sound indignant.

“Don’t diss sock organizing. You have no idea what I do in my private time,” he says dryly, turning the little statue over in his hand to inspect his progress.

“I knew it,” I mutter. Jasper rolls his eyes but then pauses. My arms prickle with tiny bumps from the cold. He’s staring at my skin .

“It’s late. We should go inside.” Standing, he tucks his knife away and holds out his hand for me. Despite the dropping temperatures, his palm is warm.

He leads me inside, the patio door clunking shut behind us. I’m not ready to call it a night, and neither is he because he leads me to his sofa. I have to admit it’s far more comfortable than my grandmother’s.

A faint smile brightens his features as he wraps me in a rust-colored plaid blanket before building up the fire in the old cast iron wood-burning stove. Warmth fills the small cabin and I breathe in the scent of woodsmoke and sweet barbeque.

As Jasper settles beside me, I drape the blanket over his shoulders like we always do, but it feels different. We aren’t around a bonfire with our rowdy group of friends. It’s just us. His skin warms my chilled arm. Awkwardly, I smooth the edge of the fabric.

“Tell me more about your students.” His voice is velvety and soothing.

“What about them?”

“I don’t know much. Tell me everything.”

My fist bunches up the blanket against my chest as I think. “Well, I've got the older ones, like Willow and my brother Cobalt. They've started some online classes, but aren't totally independent yet.”

Jasper nods along like this is the most fascinating topic ever.

“And then I've got my younger students, who are pretty much all handfuls. I mean, Daisy keeps shoving different things up her nose every time I turn around. Starling fights me on everything - it's making her mom crazy too. Even Elwood, who I would have considered my easiest student, is starting to get emotional over the smallest things.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as I talk. It’s not the cocky smirk he wears most of the time. It’s warm and genuine, with actual happiness shining through instead of an expression for show.

“How old are they?” he asks.

“Six, seven, and eight.”

“Haven’t shifted yet?”

“Nope, and I know that’s why Elwood is being so difficult. It’ll be any day now. As long as it’s not during class.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Jasper chuckles silently. “Have you ever had a kid shift in your class?”

He had no idea. “The older ones do it all the freaking time, especially if I’m being hard on them. It’s impossible to argue with a wolf, after all. But I’ve never had a kid experience their first shift while in class, thank the goddess.”

“Then maybe Elwood will be your first.”

“Shut your mouth, you’ll jinx me.” There’s no venom in my words, but I knock on the wooden coffee table for luck.

“Sorry,” he says ruefully. Exasperated, I use my forearm to shove him away. He retaliates by wrapping his arm across my shoulders and holding me tight.

Mouth pursed, he looks thoughtful. “After spending so much time with your students, do you think you’ll want a lot of kids someday?”

That’s a loaded question and a complicated one. “I don’t know. I see how hard it is for the parents sometimes. How exhausted they can be. And I’m barely getting by some of these days. I can’t imagine being responsible for a pup all the time, making sure it gets fed and sleeps enough and doesn’t disappear into the forest.”

“No kidding,” Jasper says, “I’m terrified of the idea of being a parent.”

“Why?”

His teeth press into that bottom lip as he thinks. “I don’t think I’d have any clue how to do it.”

“No one has any clue, you figure it out together with your partner and get lots of help from everyone around you.”

A certain solemness tugs at the corners of his mouth. The air is heavy and I can feel turmoil emanating from him. The silence feels like a rift between us that I can’t cross.

His mouth creases. “My parents were not exactly involved when I was a kid. We got shuffled around, stuck with different training groups and watched by random guards.

“And when they needed us to project the right image, we were dressed up and told to act a certain way.” He pauses, as if unsure if he should continue. I meet his gaze and wait. “And if we misstepped, the consequences were usually pretty painful.”

“Are you kidding me?” I blurt, anger heating my skin .

Jasper exhales in a rush, leaning back against the sofa and looking at the ceiling. “Yeah, they weren’t afraid of punishing us like any other pack member. Beating, withholding food, whatever.”

He’s quiet like he’s trying to think of anything else and not relive some of those memories.

I knew his parents were awful. They’ve committed numerous crimes, and it’s easy to deduce that they weren’t warm and caring parents either. But the idea of them hurting Jasper as a child has me seething. My nails cut into my palms. But this anger doesn’t help him, so I let it burn through me and quickly cool.

Rotating to face him, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. He encircles my ribs and pulls me closer. Suddenly, I’m in his lap, my ass over his legs. His arms band around me with comforting pressure.

My breathing stutters, but Jasper doesn’t seem to notice. Or he doesn’t care. I focus on comforting him, running my fingers through his silky hair.

“You didn’t deserve that,” I murmur.

He buries his face in my hair and stills, each breath slower than the one before. He’s calming down.

The moment could be ten minutes or ten seconds. My brain shorts out and I’ve lost all sense of time and place.

Slowly, Jasper loosens his hold and I’m able to slide onto the sofa beside him, though his arm stays across my shoulders.

“You’re nothing like your family,” I say softly .

“Thanks.” Clearing his throat, he untangles himself and stands. “It’s getting late, and I’m gonna take an early morning run again.”

“Good night,” I say hurriedly, folding the blanket and setting it aside neatly.

“Thanks, Marigold,” he says, his smile smaller and slightly sad.

I look into his eyes, noticing they’re slightly red. “Any time.”

The solitude of my room seems so vast after being wrapped up in Jasper’s hug, cocooned in a thick blanket. The smell of detergent, dust, and dirt I’ve tracked in is astringent compared to his comforting scent.

Pulling the covers up to my chin, I force myself to relax. If I’m being honest, the proximity of him alone in his personal space has every nerve in my body on overdrive. I can hardly think straight.

He’s just a friend. But hell, I’m not immune to utter masculine perfection. The golden stubble across his jaw and the way it feels against my cheek. The size of his hands over my hips as he embraces me. The more of his heart that I see, the more I adore him. I might be in trouble.