Page 31 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
When did I start caring about outcomes instead of just minding my own business? I wondered, then immediately knew the answer. Around the same time I’d started thinking about jasmine and summer rain scents and what it might mean to be part of something bigger than just me and my garage.
The conversation at the bar had been awkward as hell, but it had also been necessary. Wes and Elias were good men. Men who cared about Willa’s wellbeing more than their own egos. If she chose one of them, or some combination of us, I could live with that. What I couldn’t live with was the idea of her being hurt again by someone who didn’t understand what they had.
The bay door chimed, interrupting my brooding. I looked up to see Cassian Black standing in the entrance, expensive clothes and polished shoes completely wrong for an auto shop environment. But instead of the confident corporate bearing he’d projected at the bar, he looked genuinely nervous.
“We’re not open for another hour,” I said, though my tone was less hostile than it would have been a week ago.
“I’m not here about car repair.” Cassian glanced around the garage like he was checking for surveillance equipment. “I wanted to talk to you about the land development project.”
Here it comes, I thought. The sales pitch. The corporate justification for destroying everything Wes has been fighting to protect.
But looking at his face, I saw something I recognized from our college days. The expression he used to get when his father pushed him to do things that went against his conscience. Guilty, conflicted and mostly, angry at himself.
“What about it?” I asked, setting down my wrench and giving him my full attention.
Cassian shifted his weight, clearly debating something internal. “Look, I know what people think about me being here. About what my family wants to do with the watershed land. The looks I got at the bar the other night made that pretty clear.”
“Can’t imagine why,” I said dryly. “Corporate development threatening protected habitat doesn’t exactly make you popular in a place like this.”
“Right.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect styling. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Maybe people shouldn’t assume they know everything about why someone’s in town or what side they’re really on.”
I studied his face more carefully, looking for signs of the manipulation I’d expected. Instead, I saw exhaustion and something that looked like genuine moral conflict.
“That’s pretty vague, Cass.”
His eyes flickered at the use of his old nickname, and I saw a hint of the man I’d known in college. “Has to be, for now. But I thought you should know that sometimes the best way to stop something is to be on the inside when it falls apart.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. He’s not here to help his family. He’s here to sabotage them.
“Jesus, Cass.” I stared at him, processing the implications. “You’re working against your own family’s development project.”
“I’m working to protect fifteen acres of irreplaceable habitat from being turned into a playground for people who already have too much money.” His voice carried an edge of the passion I remembered from our environmental science classes. “The same habitat you and your friends have been fighting for through legal channels.”
Your friends. He meant Wes and Elias. The other two thirds of whatever complicated dynamic we were building around Willa.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
Cassian was quiet for a long moment, studying my face like he was trying to decide how much to trust me. “Because the Rhett Callahan I knew in college was the kind of person who’d drive three hours to help a stranger fix their car. Because you care about this community even if you pretend not to. And because I need someone local who understands that sometimes doing the right thing means betraying the people who think they own you.”
He remembers, I realized. He remembers who I used to be before I decided isolation was safer than caring.
“What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Nothing illegal. Nothing that would put you at risk.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and set it on my workbench. Just his name and a phone number, nothing corporate or official. “But if you hear anything about construction timelines or permit issues, if there’s community information that might affect the appeals process, I’d appreciate a heads up.”
I looked at the card, thinking about family loyalty and environmental protection and the way some choices defined who you were going to be going forward.
“Your family’s going to disown you when they find out,” I said.
“Probably.” His smile was bitter but determined. “They’ve been threatening to do it for years anyway. Maybe it’s time I stopped caring about their approval.”
God, he sounds like the Cass I used to know. The one who’d chosen principle over profit, who’d rather lose his inheritance than compromise his values.
“The environmental appeals process takes time,” he continued. “Development moves fast. Sometimes timing is everything.”
“And if your sabotage gets discovered?”
“Then I take the consequences. But at least I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Rhett? I know this is a lot to ask. I know I haven’t been the man you knew in college for a long time. But I’m trying to be him again.”
