Page 21 of Fetch Me A Mate
Varric studied her for a long moment. “The costs are significant. The inn’s accounts will be strained.”
“Which is why I’ve also drafted an events calendar to begin generating revenue immediately,” Diana said, sliding a second sheet across the stone. “I plan to host an Autumn Hearth Gathering next week. A community potluck, a story circle by the fire. A way to remind everyone that the Hearth & Hollow is still their gathering place, even while it’s healing.”
“A party,” Bram said with disdain. “While the roof is half-torn off.”
“A reunion,” Diana corrected gently. “For the town and its inn. To show that we are open, we are strong, and we are still a sanctuary for anyone who needs one.”
“The girl has a point,” Miriam put in, her sharp voice cutting through the tension. “The inn runs on more than money. It runs on memory and goodwill. Time to make some new memories.”
Varric picked up the events calendar. “This gathering… it would be an opportunity for the community to see the progress for themselves. To see you, Ms. Merrick, in your new role.”
“Exactly,” Diana said. “I want them to see I’m serious about this. I’m not just a placeholder. I’m the innkeeper.”
The council members exchanged glances. The air was thick with unspoken history, of past hurts and a deep-seated protectiveness for their town. Diana’s empathic gift picked up on their caution, their fear that she, an outsider, a human, could not possibly understand the weight of the legacy she held.
Finally, Varric folded his hands. “The Council has discussed this. We are prepared to approve your position, Ms. Merrick, on a provisional basis.” He held up a hand to forestall any argument. “You will have a three-month trial period. The renovation budget is approved, pending weekly progress reports submitted to my aide. Your gathering is also approved.”
He pushed a small, rolled scroll toward her. “These are our recommendations. They include guidelines for maintaining the inn’s wards and protocols for guest registration. We expect you to adhere to them precisely.”
Diana picked up the scroll. It was approval, but an approval wrapped in caution tape. A test. “I understand. Thank you.”
“Do not thank us yet,” Bram warned. “Earn it. The Hearth & Hollow is the soul of this town. Do not treat that lightly.”
“I have never treated it as anything else,” Diana said quietly.
As she and Miriam walked back down the path, the fae-lights dancing around them, the tension in Diana’s shoulders finally began to ease. It wasn’t a victory, not yet. But it was a start. It was a chance.
“You did well,” Miriam said. “You stood your ground.”
“I just told them the truth.” Diana thought of the work ahead, of winning over a town one scone and one repaired floorboard at a time. She thought of Rowan, of the confusing heat andchill between them on the roof. He was a puzzle she didn’t understand, but his dedication to the inn was undeniable. He was a part of her plan, a part of making this work.
She clutched the scroll in her hand. She would win them over. Not with words, but with work. She would make the inn a home again, for them and, finally, for herself.
10
ROWAN
The air in the upstairs hallway was thick with the clean scent of sawdust and old wood. Rowan worked on his knees, leveraging a pry bar against a floor joist that had succumbed to a slow leak decades ago. The wood came away in soft, dark chunks, rotten to the core. He worked methodically, the physical strain a welcome distraction. It kept his thoughts from drifting to the weight of Diana in his arms, the scent of her hair, the way he had shoved her away with a harshness that still soured his tongue.
His phone vibrated against a stack of new lumber, the buzz unnaturally loud in the quiet inn. He ignored it. A minute later, it buzzed again. With a grunt, he wiped his dusty hands on his jeans and picked it up.
The name on the screen made his blood run cold. Kael.
The message was short, devoid of greeting.The alpha wants a meeting. He’s not asking.
He stared at the words, each one a link in a chain he thought he’d broken years ago. He could feel the old life reaching for him, the suffocating politics, the scent of blood and obligation. His thumb hovered over the screen. His wolf paced restlessly insidehim, hackles raised. The message wasn’t just a summons; it was a threat. They knew he was here. They had found him.
He held the delete button until the entire conversation vanished into nothing. It was a useless gesture, but it was the only one he had.
He tossed the phone back onto the lumber pile and turned to the rotten joist with a vengeance, tearing out the last of the decayed wood. He worked with a controlled fury, his movements sharp and efficient. He would rebuild this place. He would make it solid, impenetrable. He would fix these bones because he couldn't fix his own.
“Figured you might be hungry.”
Rowan looked up to find Diana standing in the doorway, a paper bag in one hand and a thermos in the other. She'd changed from her morning clothes into work jeans and a soft blue sweater that brought out the gold flecks in her amber eyes.
"Lunch," she said, holding up the bag. "Twyla insisted. Said hardworking contractors need proper fuel."
"I'm fine."
