Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Chloe

A fter finishing all the pastries Holden made, we had no choice but to move on with the day.

Work held no appeal, though, so we agreed to help each other with chores.

First up was the smoker, where Holden proclaimed through some magic of culinary know-how that the filets inside were perfect.

Now I stand next to him at the island, mouth watering at the delicious scents in the air, determined to not mess up my assigned task.

Holden drops the last of the ingredients onto the counter and gives me an encouraging smile, his hazel eyes twinkling beneath thick lashes. "We're going to mix the cream cheese, lemon juice, chives, and salmon. Think you can handle that?"

"Chef, yes, chef!" I take the large spoon he holds out, then stare at the fresh lemon next to the mixing bowl. "Um, do I…?" Uncertain what he expects, I give it a tentative whack.

Holden laughs. "What are you doing?"

"Tenderizing?"

"That's one way to do it." He rolls the fruit between the counter and his palm. "How about you unwrap the cream cheese while I squeeze this for juice?"

"Store bought?" I tsk as I open the first box. "And here I thought you'd whip it up from scratch."

"Hey, don't doubt my skills. If I wanted to, I could." He leans against me, tilting me to the side. "But this wasn't on our original menu for the week, so I don't have a spare gallon of whole milk to show off."

"Excuses, excuses." I drop rectangles of soft cheese into the bowl. "One day, I expect to be amazed by Chef Holden's homemade cream cheese."

"On Kyle's next grocery run, I'll make sure he picks up what is needed so I can redeem myself."

Neither of us mention that I'll be gone before he needs another grocery run.

As we work, our arms brush, sending shivers down my spine and igniting a spark within me impossible to ignore. Even with a ten-foot island at our disposal, we stand close together as if there was no room to spread out, happily invading each other's space.

Curious about the Alpha beside me, I ask, "How did you become Blake's tutor?"

He brings out a cutting board to slice open the lemon. "I tutored quite a few students during university. It was a way for me to earn extra money and avoid graduating with a mountain of debt."

"Smart move."

"Thanks." Holden's cheeks flush at my praise. "It was hard and often frustrating, but worth it in the end. Blake was the only one I became friends with. Probably because he needed help with a lot of his General Ed classes, so we spent a lot of time together. All except math. He gave me pointers there."

Affection warms his voice. "When we started, I never thought we'd bond or form a pack."

"Your parents must be proud of you." I admire his resourcefulness. "You're so smart."

"Well, I don't know about that." Flustered, he squeezes the lemons into my mixing bowl. "Stir carefully so it doesn't splash out."

While I follow his instructions, he chops up chives and crumbles salmon.

He adds the ingredients to the cheese and lemon. "Looks like you've got the hang of it."

"I'm a glorified stand mixer," I huff as my biceps burn with the effort of stirring the thick mixture.

"Let me take over." He reaches for the spoon, our fingers intertwining for a moment, and my breath catches at the warmth of his skin against mine.

I peek at him from the corner of my eye. Golden-brown curls frame his face, highlighting the smattering of freckles on his cheeks. Longing rises within me to reach out and trace them, to lick the vanilla cake scent from behind his ear.

With a few powerful swoops, he finishes the mixing, and I hold the container for him to scoop the spread inside. "There we go. Now we wait for it to chill."

"What, no taste test?" My bottom lip pokes out in a pout.

Laughing, he scoops a dollop of the salmon spread onto his finger. When he holds it out, my lips close around it before either of us register the action.

My eyes fly up to meet his, we both blush, and I pull back, swallowing. "Yummy."

He clears his throat. "It's Nathaniel's favorite, so I'm glad you approve."

After he stores it in the fridge, he turns back to me. "Now that we've got that chilling, let me show you where the laundry room is."

We stop at my suite, then continue down the hallway to the door right before Sprinkles's room.

"Here we are." Holden opens the door to reveal a tidy laundry room with three sets of washers and dryers. "As the only guest, you can use all the machines."

"I'm so spoiled." I shake my head at myself. "Never thought I'd say that about washing my clothes."

He helps lift my suitcase onto a table, and I load the drums while he pours in detergent. "Do you wash your onesies on the delicate cycle?"

"If I ever bothered to read the tags, it would probably say not to let them touch water at all." I grimace. "A few of them come from costume stores and weren't meant to last."

"Better safe than ruined." He turns the dial to the correct setting. "Is there a story behind your outfits?"

Unlike the censor I'm used to, the curiosity in his voice invites me to open up to him. "They're a source of comfort for me."

"They look cozy, but I sense there's something else to it?" His gentle tone invites me to share more.

"Remember how I told you how I went through a tough time back when my mom and I were kicked out of the family pack?"

He nods.

My chest tightens, and I tuck my fingers inside the oversized sleeves of my borrowed sweatshirt. "At the worst of the bullying, I started missing classes, stopped eating… I gave up."

Holden reaches out to take my hands, holding them through the soft material.

Tears sting my eyes. "No one cared what happened to me at home, and my peers tried to destroy me. I hit rock bottom and just stayed in my nest. One of my mom's…friends found me and took me to the emergency room."

That had been my first introduction to Louie and where his interest in me began. It was also the first debt he covered as her benefactor when my mom couldn't pay the hospital bill.

I keep that to myself, though, since bringing it up would require so much more explaining, and the story is already complicated enough.

Sadness etched in his expression, Holden pulls me into a hug. "I'm so sorry you were driven to that point. Thank goodness you were found in time."

I nuzzle his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of his pheromones. "Afterward, I started therapy, which helped a lot. My therapist suggested I find a way to bring my nest with me, something to help me feel safe and secure wherever I went."

A smile flickers on my lips as I remember the day she presented me with a solution. "She bought me a skeleton onesie from a Halloween store. When I put it on, it was like a wearable blanket, and I fell in love with it."

His arms tighten around me.

"Of course, I couldn't wear a costume to school." Head turning, I listen to the gentle thump of his heart. "So we found other coping mechanisms. I have a collection of cardigans that are more socially acceptable, too, and she gave me this."

I pull back far enough to draw the shamrock necklace from beneath my collar.

He touches it, finger tracing over the metal cage surrounding the clay disk.

"This became a focal point for me, something to help block out stress-inducing scents and remind me that I could endure whatever life threw at me." I tuck it back away. "I also hoped it would bring me a little luck."

Holden's eyes meet mine, filled with understanding and warmth. "I think that's beautiful, Chloe. And you've come so far. If only your bullies could see what you've made of your life, despite them."

"You succeeded in the face of adversity, too." I lift his hand to kiss his fingers. "I'm not the same scared girl, but I still love my onesies. As a hermit author, they've become my uniform for work."

He draws my hands to his lips. "I'm just glad you found ways to cope and you're here with me now."

"Me, too," I breathe, my pulse quickening.

Holden reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch lingering on my cheek. The warmth of his skin against mine sends tingles through me, and I inch closer to him, drawn in by a magnetic pull I can't resist.

"Chloe," Holden whispers, closing the distance between us until his warm breath caresses my lips, vanilla cake sweetness thickening in the air.

Just as our mouths meet, the shrill ring of my phone shatters the spellbinding moment.

Startled, I fumble for the device, regretting now that I turned on my ringer so I wouldn't miss any important calls about my social accounts.

Silently cursing, I answer the call. "Hello?"

"Chloe?" Grady's irritated voice cracks through the line. "I've been trying to reach the water taxi all day, but no one's answering. What kind of business are they running at this resort?"

"Uh, let me ask." Brow furrowed, I mute Grady and turn to Holden. "Is something wrong with the phone lines?"

"I haven't checked." He strides to a landline hanging on the laundry room wall and lifts the receiver to listen before shaking his head. "The line's dead. I'll call Nathaniel to inform him."

"Chloe?" Grady yells, and I jump at the noise.

Unmuting him, I bring the cell back to my ear. "A storm last night caused some damage. It might have affected the taxi service, too."

"Ugh, this never would have happened if you'd gone to the resort I chose," Grady scoffs, unimpressed. "They need to get their act together, or I'm going to write a bad review. And there better be a credit on the final bill to compensate for this inconvenience."

His words sting more than I expect them to, and I stiffen with indignation. Holden and Blake have done so much for me, and it isn't fair for Grady to judge them based on circumstances beyond their control.

Anger sharpens my tone. "Don't you dare, Grady. They've been nothing but kind and helpful since I arrived."

"The people may be nice, but this is a business, and their customer service is lacking," he retorts. "If the water taxi isn't running again by tomorrow, I'll see if I can hire someone to bring me to the island."

"You don't need to," I protest. "I'm taking care of?—"

"The future of your career is at stake, and I'm not going to let some hacker ruin all your hard work," he interrupts. "No more retreats that are only accessible by boat. If not for that, I could have been with you last night, handling this mess."

Annoyed he's not listening, I say a terse goodbye and end the call, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

My heart pounds, conflicting emotions roiling within me. Concern for Grady's opinion, annoyance at his insensitivity, and fierce protectiveness of Holden and Blake. The strength of the last feelings scares me.

I've known Grady for years, but I'm ready to stop talking to him because he disparaged what Holden and Blake worked so hard to achieve.

"Is everything okay?" Holden touches my arm, and I realize just how deeply I care for him.

For both of them.

I don't want anything bad to ever happen to Holden and Blake, and an undeniable ache surges through me at the thought of leaving them. All those tingles, the way their pheromones call to me… It can only mean one thing, and the realization excites and terrifies me for how it can change my future and theirs.

"Everything's fine." I force a smile. "Grady's just…concerned."

Holden nods, his expression uncertain. "If you're sure."

"Thank you." My fingers itch to reach out and touch him, to have the warmth of his skin against mine once more.

But I resist the temptation and put more distance between us. "I should go check my email and stop distracting you from work."

Hurt flashes in his expression at my dismissal. "If that's what you want."

We had planned to spend all day together, but I can't be around him right now. His presence messes with my head, and I need clarity to think. "I'll come find you in a bit."

"Okay." He searches my face. "Are you sure nothing is wrong?"

I nod as I turn toward the door, but I pause before leaving to glance back at him. "My publisher wants another trilogy in the Fairy Princess world."

Instead of excitement, concern crosses his face. "Really? I thought the last book was the end."

"Me, too." My throat tightens with uncertainty. "But maybe there's more to tell?"

The scent of vanilla cake and laundry detergent waft around me, whispering with the comfort of a real home and tempting me with dreams I haven't dared to indulge in for a long time.

For a place within the Misty Pines pack, would it be worth writing what my publishers want?

Holden reaches out, fingers brushing against my hand, and the tingles of our connection spark something deep within me, a longing for more than stories and fairytales.

"Whatever you decide, Chloe," he murmurs, his gaze locked with mine. "Let your heart guide you in the right direction."

As I take in the sight of this man, this Alpha who has become such a necessary part of my life so quickly—I can't help but wonder if my heart has already made its choice.