Page 34 of Fetch Me A Mate
The drilling stopped. Rowan emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag, his pale eyes immediately scanning the room.
"Ladies." His voice was carefully controlled. "Everything ready for tomorrow?"
"Just reviewing final details," Twyla said smoothly. "Diana's nervous about her first official hosting event."
"She shouldn't be." Rowan's gaze lingered on Diana's face. "She's good at bringing people together."
"Yes, she is." Twyla's tone was loaded with meaning. "Question is whether everyone will let her."
Something flickered across Rowan's expression, too quick for Diana to interpret. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that small towns can be protective of their traditions. New people sometimes face... resistance." Twyla's smile was sharp. "Though I'm sure you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rowan?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Rowan's jaw tightened, and Diana felt the protective energy radiating from him spike higher.
"Diana's earned her place here," he said quietly. "Anyone who thinks otherwise can deal with me."
"Good to know." Twyla closed her notebook with a snap. "I'll make sure word gets around that the inn has strong protection."
After Twyla left, Diana confronted Rowan directly. "What was that about?"
"What was what about?"
"That whole exchange. The undercurrents. The way you looked ready to start a fight over my hosting abilities." Diana crossed her arms. "And don't say it was nothing. My senses are practically screaming from all the tension in this room."
Rowan was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on something beyond the windows. "Some people don't like change."
"And you think they'll cause trouble at the gathering?"
"I think I'm being careful." His eyes met hers finally. "This event matters to you. I want it to go well."
"Rowan." Diana stepped closer, her voice gentling. "If there's something specific you're worried about, tell me. Let me help."
For a moment, she thought he might. Something vulnerable flickered in his pale eyes, a need to share the burden he was carrying alone.
Then his walls slammed back into place.
"Everything's fine," he said. "Just pre-event nerves. You should focus on tomorrow night. Make sure it's everything you want it to be."
He gathered his tools and headed for the door, leaving Diana alone with her polishing supplies and a growing certainty that whatever Rowan was protecting her from would find its way to her gathering whether she knew about it or not.
The locket at her throat felt heavier as she returned to her preparations. Tomorrow night would be more than a celebration, she realized. It would be a test of whether she truly belonged in Hollow Oak.
She just wished she knew what she was being tested against.
18
ROWAN
Rowan left the inn with Diana's questions echoing in his head. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the square, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something darker was watching from the edges.
He needed a drink. Something stronger than coffee, something that might quiet the restless energy thrumming through his veins.
The Silver Fang Tavern sat on the corner like a fortress, its weathered sign creaking in the breeze. Maeve's domain, where shifters could be themselves without pretense. Rowan pushed through the heavy oak door into familiar dimness.
Maeve called from behind the bar. "You look like hell, wolf."
"Feel worse." Rowan settled onto a barstool, grateful for the tavern's isolation. Only two other patrons, both nursing beers in comfortable silence. "Whiskey. The good stuff."
