Page 13 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
"The pastries upstairs... was that for me?"
"It's for whoever wants it." I installed the new filter with more force than necessary. "Figured you might be hungry as well as cold."
"I am cold. Have been cold since I got here, actually. I thought it was just... adjustment."
"Probably is. But working in a properly heated building won't hurt the adjustment process."
I could feel her watching me work, and it should have been distracting. Usually was, when people hovered while I was trying to concentrate. But something about her presence was oddlycalming. Like she understood that fixing things required focus and wasn't going to interrupt unless it was important.
"Can I ask you something?" she said eventually.
"Shoot."
"Yesterday, when I asked if it mattered where I came from... did you mean that? That it doesn't matter?"
I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her directly. Really look. She was still standing on the bottom step, still wrapped in that oversized jacket, but her posture was different. Less defensive. More... curious.
"I meant it," I said. "People end up in small towns for all kinds of reasons. Most of them are running from something or looking for something. Either way, what matters is what you do here, not what you left behind."
"What if what you left behind was terrible?"
"Then you had good reason to leave."
"What if what you're looking for doesn't exist?"
"Then you build it."
The simplicity of that answer seemed to surprise her. Like she'd been expecting something more complicated, more conditional.
"You make it sound easy."
"Didn't say it was easy. Said it was possible."
She was quiet again, thinking. I went back to work on the circulation fan, but I could still feel her watching me. Not with suspicion this time, but with something that felt like assessment. Like she was trying to figure out if I was the kind of person who said things I didn't mean.
"The heating system," she said eventually. "How long will it take to fix?"
"Couple more hours. Maybe three if I replace the circulation fan."
"Should I leave you alone to work?"
"Up to you. You're not bothering me."
"I feel like I'm bothering you."
"You're not."
"Okay," she said, like she was testing the word. "I'll stay then. If that's all right."
"It's all right."
And it was. More than all right, actually. Having her there, quiet and thoughtful, asking the occasional question about what I was doing but mostly just... being present. It felt comfortable in a way I hadn't expected.
Like maybe she was the kind of person who understood that silence could be companionable instead of awkward. That watching someone work could be interesting instead of boring. That sometimes the best conversations happened when you weren't trying to fill every moment with words.
By the time I finished the repairs, the heating system was running better than it probably had in years. Quiet, efficient, and warm enough to keep anyone comfortable, even someone dealing with suppressant-related temperature regulation issues.
"There," I said, packing up my tools. "Should be good for another year, minimum. Probably longer if Hollis keeps up with the basic maintenance."
