Page 34 of Believe it or Knot

I want her now.

Patience is not my strong suit.

But in order for that to happen, we have to tie up loose ends, take care of some of her problems so she feels free enough to come with us. Right now she can’t do that with her parent’s debt hanging over her.

A thought occurs to me. “What if she actually enjoys owning the restaurant?” I ask, making the three men in the car with me jump.

Rafe slides his gaze in my direction from the seat next to me. “Care to explain where that came from?”

I shift, leaning forward to peer out the front window. We’re on the street outside the Stillwell pack house, waiting for the band of merry douches to arrive. I’ve never been in a real life stake out before, though I have acted through some. There is a disturbing lack of snacks in this real life one.

I’m hungry.

And I miss Sorrel, even though I saw her yesterday.

And we have plans to see her tonight for a casual hang. Which I hope means skimpy little lacy pajamas and lots of cuddling.

“Well, we’re here to help her get free of her debt, hoping she’ll be more open to moving to Granton, right? But what if she enjoys working up here at the lake? What if she doesn’t want to come with us? What if she won’t let us take care of her?”

Gage turns to look at me over his shoulder and growls, “She won’t want to move to Granton. She hates the city.”

Hates the city? But how can that be? No one actually hates the city. Right? How can they? The thrum of life that pulses through the streets, the museums, the plays and concerts, the food! Oh man, the food.

“She obviously hasn’t experienced it the right way then,” I say, settling back and scooting closer to Rafe, who lifts his arm and drapes it over my shoulder, tugging me into him.

“If you mean with millions of dollars to burn, then you’re right,” Gage growls again. I swear the man has one tone, and it’s growly. Only growly. “But she’s not some country bumpkin like you seem to think.”

I open my mouth to say that is most definitely not what I think of my sweet beta, but snap it closed when he continues. “She was at university when her parents died. In Granton. She’s lived there, and she hated it.”

My stomach drops at his pronouncement. If she hated it, there’s no chance of getting her to move there. And although Lake Kilrose is beautiful, it’s too far away from the city to make sense for us to move there. Gray would either need to commute every day or he’d end up staying in the city five days a week and only seeing us on the weekends.

Which would be a nightmare to be separated from my bonded alpha that much. My omega whimpers at even the idea of it, though thankfully the sound doesn’t actually leave my body.

Rafe presses a kiss to my temple as Gray meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “I know you don’t want to hear this, sweetheart, but you’re putting the cart before the horse. We don’t know…” He glances at Gage and then meets my eyes again. “We don’t know that Sorrel will be a good fit.”

I don’t bother saying she’s the perfect fit. She is. I feel it down to my bones. I know what he’s saying, even if I disagree with him wholeheartedly. We can’t trust Sorrel. I met her less than a week ago and dreaming of what it’ll be like to move her into our pack house and having her near me always is jumping the gun.

I tend to do this.

I know I do.

I love love. I love falling in love and the flutter of butterflies when you see the person. I love the zing of energy and the too fast pounding of my heart at the barest touch. I love all of that.

And it always happens to me at the start of a relationship.

The trick is finding the people who make that feeling last.

Gray and Rafe make that feeling last.

I still get butterflies when I see them. My heart rate still picks up at every touch. It’s a struggle to not rip off their clothes every chance I get.

I need them like I need the air in my lungs and food in my belly. They sustain me. I have the feeling that Sorrel is going to be the same.

Even if no one else believes me.

“What was she studying?” Rafe asks, snuggling me closer, one of his big hands smoothing down my back like he knows what I’ve been thinking. Maybe he has. I’m not exactly good at keeping my emotions on lockdown.

“Music theory,” Gage grunts out.

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