Page 63 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
I stood on her porch for a moment after she went inside, grinning like an idiot and already planning our next outing.
For someone who supposedly understood wildlife better than people, I was starting to think I might be getting the hang of this romance thing after all.
Chapter 24
Elias
Icouldn't remember the last time I'd felt this kind of anticipation.
Standing in my kitchen, checking the lamb one more time, I realized how much I'd been looking forward to tonight. For the past few weeks, Willa had been stopping by the apothecary most afternoons after her shift at the bookshop, settling into the chair by my counter with whatever tea blend I'd prepared for her that day.
Those quiet conversations had become the highlight of my day. She'd tell me about her morning hikes with Wes, how he'd light up when explaining migration patterns or point out plants she'd never noticed before. Or she'd mention fixing something at her home with Rhett's help, how patient he was when teaching her to use his tools, the way he'd bring her coffee without being asked.
Each story made warmth spread through my chest. She was bonding with them, really bonding, and I could hear the growingaffection in her voice when she talked about both men. The three of us had discussed it—carefully, tentatively—and we all agreed that it was time to pull our pack closer together.
Tonight was about seeing if we could work as a group, not just as separate pairs. About showing Willa that the feelings growing between all of us didn't have to be compartmentalized or complicated.
But despite the careful planning, despite knowing Rhett and Wes were just as invested in this working, I found myself nervous in a way I couldn't quite explain. Maybe because I wanted it so badly. Maybe because I could see how perfect we could all be together, and the possibility of that not happening felt almost unbearable.
The dinner had to be perfect. She needed to feel safe enough to be vulnerable with all of us at once.
That's where my expertise came in. Creating environments where people could lower their guards, speak their truths, and more importantly open their hearts without fear of judgment or pressure. It was something I'd been doing professionally for years, but it had never mattered as much as it did tonight.
This dinner wasn't just about the four of us figuring out our feelings. It was about creating space for Willa to choose what she wanted without pressure, without competition, without anyone making the decision for her.
My cottage was small but warm, all exposed beams and comfortable furniture arranged to encourage conversation. I'd spent the afternoon preparing everything with the same care I brought to my most delicate healing work. The lighting was soft but not dim, warm yellow bulbs that would make everyone look relaxed and healthy. I'd chosen a dinner menu that would smell incredible without being heavy or overpowering, foods that promoted calm and connection without being obvious about it.
Roasted chicken with herbs from my garden. Seasonal vegetables that would fill the house with comforting scents. Fresh bread that I'd started this morning, timing it so the smell would greet them when they arrived. For dessert, apple crisp made with fruit from the orchard outside town, something sweet and simple that would end the evening on a note of satisfaction.
The table was set for four with my grandmother's dishes, nothing fancy but warm and welcoming. I'd placed small arrangements of late-season flowers around the room, their scents chosen to promote openness and emotional balance. Lavender for calm, rosemary for clarity, a touch of jasmine that would complement Willa's natural scent without overwhelming it.
Everything was designed to create a space where the four of us could talk honestly about what was growing between us.
But as I made final preparations, I found myself thinking about the omega wellness techniques my grandmother had taught me. Not manipulation, never that, but the gentle art of creating atmosphere that encouraged people to be their most authentic selves. The way certain scents could ease anxiety without affecting judgment. The way warm light and comfortable seating could make even the most guarded person feel safe enough to speak their truth.
I'd been careful with the scent atmosphere, using my professional knowledge to create an environment that would encourage honesty without being manipulative. Just enough calming influence to take the edge off everyone's nerves, not enough to affect judgment or autonomy. The lavender and rosemary were subtle, mixed with the natural scents of good food and the warming spices I'd used in the cooking.
I was pulling the bread from the oven when I heard the first knock. Wes, exactly on time as always, carrying a bottle of wineand wearing the slightly formal expression he got when he was nervous about social situations.
"Smells incredible in here," he said as I let him in.
"Grandmother's recipe. Never fails to make people feel at home."
It was true. I'd learned the bread recipe from her when I was twelve, during one of the summers I'd spent at her cottage learning about healing herbs and the old ways of omega wellness. She'd understood that feeding people wasn't just about nutrition, it was about creating comfort and connection.
"How are you feeling about tonight?" I asked as he handed me the wine.
"Nervous," he admitted. "Good nervous, but still nervous. You?"
"The same. This feels important."
"Itisimportant."
"Can I help with anything?" Wes asked, clearly looking for something to do with his nervous energy.
"Just keep me company while I finish up. Wine glasses are in the cabinet above the sink if you want to open that bottle."
Rhett arrived five minutes later, clearly uncomfortable in clean jeans and a button-down shirt that looked like he'd bought it specifically for tonight. He'd made an effort, which touched me more than I'd expected. His usual work clothes were practical and comfortable, but tonight he'd dressed to show respect for the occasion.
