Page 34 of Taken By the Pack

I nod, pretending like I don’t remember every damn second of her writhing under my hand. “How about I pick you up later? We can meet Jake at Rhys’s place.”

“Okay,” she says softly. “That works.”

I give her a quick nod and get the hell out of there before I do something stupid like kiss her.

* * *

Fishing doesn’t doshit to clear my head. I’m casting lines and pulling in the occasional fish, but the whole time, my brain’s stuck on Grace.

Her scent. Her warmth. The way she looked at me like I was something solid when everything else around her was falling apart.

What the fuck am I doing?

By the time I’m back home, I’ve got enough fish for dinner and a week’s worth of meals. I freeze the catch, jump in the shower, and try to scrub away the lust that’s swirling in my veins. It doesn’t work.

I get dressed—black button-down, dark jeans, boots. Standard Rowan. Nothing fancy, but clean enough for dinner at Rhys’s.

As I button up my shirt, I mutter a quick prayer under my breath. Not to God, necessarily. Just… to whoever’s listening.Please, help me not fuck this up.

The sign on Haven’s Nook says “open” when I get there, but the place is quiet. I step inside, and the smell of flowers hits me like a wall. It’s brighter in the evening light, every bloom glowing like it’s got its own spotlight.

“Grace?” I call out.

Her voice comes from the back. “One second!”

When she steps into view, I swear to God my brain short-circuits.

She’s wearing this red dress—low-cut, floral, with a hem that sways just above her knees. Black boots. Hair pinned up with little wisps framing her face.

Her makeup’s subtle but enough to make her look like some kind of goddess.

She catches me staring and gives me this shy little smile. “What?” she asks, smoothing her hands down the dress. “I clean up nice?”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice coming out rough. “You do.”

Her smile grows, and for a second, I forget why I’m here. Then she grabs a small bag and says, “I went home and changed at lunch. I haven’t had an excuse to wear this dress in so long. Ready when you are.”

We step outside, and as we’re walking to the truck, she slips her hand into mine. It’s small and warm, her fingers lacing through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I glance down at her, and she tilts her head up, meeting my eyes.

“We need to sell it,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

“Right.” My throat’s suddenly dry. “Sell it.”

I don’t let go of her hand. Not because we’re “selling it,” but because… well, fuck, I don’t know. She’s beautiful, and I’m an idiot.

Rhys’s is packed when we get there. It always is. It’s loud, the kind of loud that drowns out your thoughts if you’re lucky.

Jake’s already waiting at a corner table, a beer in hand and a menu in front of him.

“About time,” he says when we walk in, smirking as his eyes flick to our joined hands.

Grace glares at him. “Be nice.”

He chuckles, and we sit down across from him. I keep her hand in mine until she pulls away to grab a menu. Immediately, I feel the loss.

Jake leans back in his chair, watching us with that knowing look that makes me want to punch him. “So, what’s the plan, lovebirds?”

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