Page 61 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
The casual comment made my heart skip in a way that was probably ridiculous, but she said it with such warmth that I found myself grinning like an idiot.
"Can't do serious photography work without proper hydration," I said, pouring her a cup in one of the metal camping mugs I'd brought.
We ate in comfortable silence for a while, looking out over the valley spread below us. The sun had climbed higher, burning off the morning mist and revealing the full scope of the landscape. It was the kind of view that made you understand why people fought to protect wild places.
"I can see why you love this work," Willa said eventually. "Being up here, seeing all of this... it puts everything else in perspective."
"That's exactly it. Sometimes I get so caught up in the data and the politics that I forget why it matters. Coming up here reminds me."
"How long have you been doing conservation work?"
"Eight years professionally. But I've been interested in it since I was a kid." I took a sip of spiced cider, gathering courage toshare something I didn't talk about often. "My dad used to take me hiking when I was young. He taught me to identify bird calls, track animals, understand ecosystems. It was the only time we really connected."
"Past tense?"
"He died when I was in college. Heart attack." The old grief was still there, but softer now. "I think he would have liked knowing I made this my life's work."
"I'm sure he would have been proud."
"He always said the best way to understand something was to protect it. That you can't really love something unless you're willing to fight for it."
She was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if I'd shared too much. But when she spoke, there was something in her voice that made my chest tight.
"Is that what you're doing? Fighting for what you love?"
The question hung between us, loaded with more meaning than just conservation work. I looked at her sitting there in the morning light, beautiful and talented and slowly healing from wounds someone else had inflicted, and realized that yes, that's exactly what I was doing.
"I'm trying to," I said quietly.
"Thank you for bringing me here," Willa said eventually. "I haven't felt this inspired in months. Maybe years."
"Thank you for seeing it the way I do."
She turned to look at me, something shifting in her expression. "You love this work, don't you? Really love it."
"More than anything." The admission came out easily, surprising me. "Sometimes I think I understand wildlife better than I understand people."
"I don't think that's true. You understood what I needed today before I even knew it myself."
There was something in her voice, something soft and wondering, that made me brave enough to say what I'd been thinking all morning.
"I wanted to share this with you. These places, this work. It matters to me, and I wanted it to matter to you too."
"It does matter to me. All of it." She was quiet for a moment, studying my face like she was trying to read something there.
The way she was looking at me made my chest tight with an emotion I wasn't sure I was ready to name. I'd spent so many years focused on conservation work, on protecting things that couldn't protect themselves, that I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to want to protect a person, to want to claim them.
"Willa," I said, my voice rougher than intended. "I need to tell you something."
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull away. "What?"
I turned to face her fully, taking in the way the mountain light caught in her hair, the genuine trust in her expression. "This… today, you being here with me… it means everything.Youmean everything."
Her breath caught. "Wes…"
"I know this is complicated," I continued, needing to get the words out before I lost my nerve. "With Rhett and Elias and whatever is happening between all of us. But I need you to know that what I feel for you isn't something I can ignore or push aside."
She was staring at me with something that looked like wonder. "What do you feel for me?"
