Page 39 of Pack Plus One

The thought of Leah sitting in our taproom, enjoying our creations, possibly watching us from across the room without our knowledge, fills me with an unexpected mix of emotions.

“When you decide to visit,” Jude adds in, “you’re getting the VIP treatment.” He grins. “Behind-the-scenes tour, samples of the experimental batches, the works.”

“I’d like that,” she says softly, and the simple sincerity in her voice makes something in my chest tighten pleasantly.

“You,” Jude declares, looking at her with genuine admiration, “are my new favorite person.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Leah says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

I notice the time on the bedside clock—nearly 2 AM now—and the way her eyelids flutter with exhaustion. “Game’s over.” I catch Jude’s wrist as he opens his mouth to protest. “She needs sleep.”

Caleb shifts behind her, his arms tightening briefly before he helps her settle against the pillows. “We’ll give you the room,” he rumbles, though his jaw tenses at the words.

Leah’s already half-asleep, her fingers curling into the sheets as she mumbles, “Just until morning...”

“Of course,” I lie smoothly, flicking off the bedside lamp.

We move as one unit—Jude retrieving her water bottle, Mason straightening the blanket, and I propping an extra pillow within reach. Our silent coordination would be eerie if it weren’t so practiced.

At the doorway, we pause. Jude mouths ‘holy shit’ with wide eyes. Mason nods once.She fits. Caleb’s nostrils flare as he breathes in her scent still lingering on his skin.Mine. And me?

I press a hand against the doorframe, struck by how right she looks in Mason’s oversized shirt, curled in our sheets. How easily she could belong here. The realization hits like a punch to the chest—I don’t just want her in our bed.

I want her at our breakfast table. In our brewery. Wrapped in my arms at night and smiling at me over coffee in the morning.

Ours.

And not just for tonight.

Caleb surprises us all by grabbing a spare blanket from the hall closet. Without a word, he spreads it across the floor outside her door and drops a pillow at the head of his makeshift bed.

Jude snorts. “Subtle.”

“Someone should—” Caleb begins.

“Stand guard in case she bolts at dawn?” Mason finishes dryly. “Yes, we gathered.”

I squeeze Caleb’s shoulder as we head toward our own rooms. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Not when she wakes up to fresh cinnamon rolls and proper coffee. Not when Jude’s ridiculous pancake art awaits. And certainly not when Caleb’s looming presence at her door makes his intentions clearer than any words could.

Leah’s soft snores follow us down the hall.

Good.

She’ll need her rest.

Because tomorrow?

The real game begins.

10

LEAH

Iwake to the scent of dark chocolate and rain-soaked pages clinging to the sheets.

Oh no.

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