Page 64 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
"Thanks for doing this," he said quietly as he handed me a six-pack of local beer. "Not really my thing, the dinner party planning."
"Everyone contributes what they can."
"Smells like your grandmother's kitchen in here," he said, and I caught something wistful in his voice. "Haven't smelled bread baking in years."
I filed that information away, another piece of understanding about the man who presented such a gruff exterior to the world. Rhett had grown up without much domestic comfort, that much was clear. It made his gesture of dressing up for tonight even more meaningful.
"My grandmother always said that breaking bread together was the foundation of every important conversation," I said, checking the chicken in the oven. "That people spoke more honestly when they felt cared for."
"Smart woman," Rhett said.
"She was. She taught me that creating space for healing wasn't just about medicine or therapy. Sometimes it was about a comfortable chair and a good meal and the feeling that someone cared enough to make an effort."
Wes looked up from opening the wine. "Is that what you're doing tonight? Creating space for healing?"
"I'm creating space for truth," I said. "Whatever that leads to."
Willa was the last to arrive, and the moment she stepped through my door, I knew the evening would go well. She looked beautiful but not overly dressed, in a soft green sweater that brought out the gold in her eyes and made her skin glow. More importantly, she looked genuinely happy to be here.
But there was something else too. An energy about her, a sense of decision made and courage gathered. Her scent held undertones I hadn't noticed before, something that made my alpha instincts take notice.
"Elias, your home is lovely," she said, accepting the glass of wine I offered.
"Thank you. I wanted you all to feel comfortable."
And she did look comfortable, I realized with satisfaction. Her shoulders were relaxed instead of defensive, her scent warm and open instead of carefully controlled. The environmentI'd created was working exactly as intended, but there was something different about her as well.
"This feels different than the last time we were all together," she said, looking around at the three of us.
"Different how?" I asked gently.
"More intentional. Like we're here for a reason beyond just dinner."
"Are we?" Rhett asked, his directness cutting through any pretense.
She smiled, and there was something brave and determined in it. "Yes. We are."
"Can I help with anything?" Willa asked as I moved between kitchen and dining room, making final preparations.
"Just keep our guests company. Everything's nearly ready."
But I was watching all of them as I made final preparations, using skills I'd developed over years of reading people's emotional states. Wes was nervous but determined, his usual careful control slightly strained. He kept adjusting his shirt cuffs and checking his phone, behavior I recognized as displacement activity when he was working up courage for something important.
Rhett was out of his element but trying to be present for something he recognized as significant. He stood near the window, looking out at my small garden, but I could see him watching the rest of us in the glass's reflection. His scent carried notes of uncertainty mixed with determination.
And Willa... Willa was carrying something she wanted to share, some piece of truth she'd been holding close. There was an energy about her, a sense of decision made and courage gathered. Her scent held undertones I hadn't noticed before, something that made my alpha instincts take notice without quite understanding what they were detecting.
Perfect. That's exactly what I'd been hoping for.
"Dinner's ready," I announced, and we moved to the dining room table.
The conversation started with safe topics, everyone settling into their chairs and adjusting to the intimate setting. But I could feel the undercurrent of anticipation, the sense that we were all waiting for something important to begin.
"This is delicious," Willa said, taking a bite of the roasted chicken. "You're an amazing cook."
"My grandmother's influence. She believed that good food was the foundation of good conversation."
"Smart woman," Wes said.
