Page 50 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
I looked down at the boy, and to my surprise, a genuine smile tugged at my lips.
He was sharp. Observant.
“If Mommy doesn’t mind,” I said, “maybe I could take a look at the sink?”
We both turned to look at her.
She looked between the two of us, as if weighing more than just my offer.
Then Ollie tugged at her sleeve, looking up at her with wide eyes.
“Please, Mommy? So the kitchen sink can finally stop leaking—and you can stop stressing about it?”
I sawthe moment she gave in—when her shoulders slumped, and she exhaled like she didn’t have a choice.
“Fine,” she said quietly.
Ollie grinned and immediately grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the house.
The kitchen was small and cluttered, but clean. Sunlight spilled through a window over the sink, casting soft light across a dish rack, an open toolbox, and a half-mopped floor. A disassembled pipe lay beside a bucket full of water. The air smelled faintly of soap and pancakes.
I watched Leila as she deliberately avoided looking at me, her eyes flicking to everything else—the ceiling, the counter, even the leaking sink—anywhere but me.
I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and stepped closer. Her breath hitched. Her scent hit me like a punch to the gut—intoxicating, wild, unmistakably hers. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, alert now. Restless. Drawn to her like gravity.
She looked up.
I smirked. Then reached for the wrench in her hand, brushing her gloved fingers as I took it.
Crouching beside the cabinet, I assessed the mess. The sink was an old model—rusted in all the wrong places. But not beyond saving.
Ollie crouched beside me, chin in his palm, watching like it was a front row seat to a live-action superhero movie. He didn’t say a word, just tracked my every move as I twisted a loose joint beneath the sink.
I hadn’t done this in years. Not since I was a teenager and my father made me shadow the pack handyman every time he came around. “Know how things work before you expect to rule them,” he’d said. At the time, I hated it. Now? Kind of grateful.
The pipe clicked back into place. Water ran clean and smooth. No drips. No spray.
Ollie whooped, hands in the air. “You fixed it!”
I stood, wiping my hands on the rag Leila handed me. My shirt was damp, and there was grime under my nails—but for some reason, I felt…good.
Fulfilled, even.
And all because I fixed a damn sink.
Maybe it was the way the boy looked at me—like I’d just saved them from a disaster of epic proportions.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
Ollie grinned. “Thanks, Mister.”
I chuckled and offered my hand. “Call me Luca.”
He slipped his small fingers into mine and tried to shake it, but my hand was too big, so I helped him out with the motion.
“Do you play video games, Luca?”
“Why, yes. I’ve got Call of Duty, LEGO—”
