Page 8 of Nesting With My Three Alphas
"Didn't know we had an artist next door," Jonah said softly, and there was something in his voice that made me look up. Something that looked almost like pride, like he was pleased to discover this new facet of who I was.
This is how people should react to your interests, a small voice whispered in my head. With curiosity and support, not criticism.
The air was rich with the scents of home. Coffee, pancakes, and underneath it all, the cedar-and-comfort smell that was purely Jonah. But now there was something else too. The warm, honeyed scent of my own omega satisfaction, weaving through the space like I belonged here.
This is what a house should feel like, I thought, and the realization didn't scare me as much as it should have.
"So," Charlie said, settling into her chair at the kitchen table, "when you help me build my nest later, can you also show me how to draw better windows?"
I laughed, surprised by how natural it felt. "That sounds like a perfect combination. Nesting and art lessons."
"The best Saturday ever," Charlie declared.
And as Jonah set a plate of perfectly golden pancakes in front of me, as Charlie chattered about her plans for our afternoon activities, as the church bells continued their gentle reminder that this was a place where community mattered, I had to admit she might be right.
For the first time in two years, I was looking forward to the day ahead.
Maybe, just maybe, being found wasn't the worst thing after all.
But even as I savored my first bite of homemade pancakes, even as I let myself enjoy the warmth of this makeshift family breakfast, a part of me remained cautious. Watching. Waiting. Maybe nothing this good came without a cost, but for now, I let that part of me wait.
Chapter 3
Jonah
I'd been making pancakes every Saturday morning for three years now, ever since Sarah died and I realized Charlie needed routines more than she needed her dad falling apart. But this morning felt different. The familiar rhythm of whisking batter and heating the griddle was the same, but everything else had shifted.
Kit was coming to breakfast.
The omega next door who'd found my daughter nesting in her empty house and hadn't batted an eye. Who'd looked at Charlie's makeshift fort like it was the most natural thing in the world instead of a breach of boundaries that would have sent most people running.
I flipped a pancake with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the way my alpha instincts had been humming since I'd walked into that room this morning. Kit in her sleep shirt, all softcurves and tousled hair, kneeling beside my daughter like she belonged there. Like she'd always belonged there.
Dangerous thinking.
"Dad, you're burning it," Charlie observed from her perch at the kitchen table, where she was supposedly setting out plates but mostly just rearranging the same three forks.
I looked down at the pancake, which was indeed a shade darker than golden brown. "Right. Thanks, buttercup."
"Are you nervous about Kit coming over?"
I shot her a look. "I'm not nervous."
"You smell nervous," Charlie said matter-of-factly. "And you keep messing with your hair."
I forced my hand away from my head, where I'd apparently been running my fingers through the already disheveled mess. "I'm fine."
"It's okay if you like her," Charlie continued, completely oblivious to my discomfort. "She smells nice. Like vanilla and something warm."
Warm. That was one way to put it. Kit's scent had hit me like a freight train this morning: vanilla and honey, yes, but underneath it all something that called to every protective instinct I possessed. Something that made my alpha side want to wrap her up and keep her safe from whatever had put that wariness in her eyes.
The distant sound of church bells drifted through the open window, marking the top of the hour with their familiar chimes. Saturday morning in Hollow Haven, where the biggest excitement was usually Mrs. Peterson's cat getting stuck in the oak tree again. Except forthismorning. When the most exciting thing was Kit coming to my house for breakfast.
It has been too long since I felt like this. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again. It was nice toknow that my heart was still capable of beating for someone else, even if Kit became nothing more than a friend.
The knock at the door saved me from having to respond to Charlie's observation. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and went to answer it, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened.
Kit stood on my porch looking nothing like the rumpled, vulnerable woman from this morning. She'd changed into a soft green sweater that brought out the gold flecks in her brown eyes, and jeans that actually fit her curves instead of hiding them. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she'd put on just enough makeup to highlight her natural beauty.
