Page 33 of Jesse
Just… watching me. Reading me.
“I know you’re upset we didn’t get into the top five,” he said after a beat. “I am too. But the event’s not over. We should see it through.”
I let out a slow breath. The woods around us were quiet except for the occasional rustle of wind.
His presence was oddly comforting. It was anchoring in a way I wasn’t used to. Like his voice reached through the storm in my head and gently pulled me back to solid ground.
My wolf settled further, soothed by Beck’s calm, steady energy.
“You’re right,” I said finally, my voice low and rough. “I just… I really thought we had a shot.”
“I know,” Beck replied. “And for what it’s worth? I still think we made the best food out there.”
I glanced up at him, surprised. He smiled, just a little.
“You were brilliant in that kitchen, amazing with the customers,” he added. “You move like it’s second nature. Like it’s instinct. And yeah, we bickered a little. Okay, a lot, but that menu was something to be proud of.”
That hit deeper than I wanted it to. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to ignore the warmth creeping into my face.
“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I said, my voice quieter than intended. “You care. A lot. And you fight for every flavor. I haven’t had that in a partner before. It was… kind of great.”
Beck’s smile grew. “Look at us. Complimenting each other. Who would’ve thought?”
I huffed a dry laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late.”
He stepped closer, not enough to crowd me, just enough that I felt the subtle brush of his aura, his steadiness wrapping around mine like moss over stone.
“I didn’t peg you for a sore loser,” he teased, nudging me gently with his elbow.
“I’m not,” I muttered.
“Uh-huh.”
I turned to him fully now, taking in the messy strands of his hair, the smudge of flour still clinging to his apron, the faint line between his brows that hadn’t quite faded.
His eyes were on me. Really on me, soft and sure.
“You came after me,” I said, suddenly aware of how close we were. “Didn’t think you would.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t want you brooding out here and letting the Thornebane truck think they’d broken your spirit.”
“They didn’t,” I said quickly.
He smirked. “Good. Because they’re insufferable enough without knowing they won.”
I laughed, and this time it was real. “You know… I didn’t think I’d enjoy working with you.”
Beck raised a brow. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I mean—” I ran a hand through my hair. “I figured we’d just barely tolerate each other. But… it’s been different. Good different.”
Beck tilted his head, something unreadable flickering in his expression.
“I know what you mean,” he said.
Our eyes met, the air stretching between us again, tight with something unsaid. Not quite ready to burst, but close. So close.
