Page 2 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
“Had to grow up eventually.” His grin was the same slightly crooked smile I remembered, just sized up for an adult face. “Though I have to say, you look exactly like you did that summer, just...”
“Just older and more tired?” I supplied, stepping back to let him onto the porch.
“I was going to say more yourself, if that makes sense.” He tucked his clipboard under his arm, his attention completely focused on my face in a way that was both flattering and slightlyunnerving. “Like you grew into exactly who you were supposed to be.”
Heat crept up my neck at the compliment. This was dangerous territory, nostalgia and kind words from an attractive man who remembered me fondly. I’d come here to rebuild my life, not to fall into old patterns with new people.
“So you’re with the park service now?” I asked, changing the subject before I could do something stupid like invite him inside for coffee. “That suits you. You always loved being outdoors.”
“Still do.” He gestured toward the tree line beyond the cottage, where I could just make out the beginning of a hiking trail. “I patrol the watershed areas mostly, work with the wildlife management folks. It’s good work, like reading a book where the story changes every day, but the characters stay consistent.”
The nature metaphor made me smile despite myself. That was pure Jace, seeing the world in terms of patterns and relationships, finding stories in animal behavior and seasonal changes.
“Speaking of which,” he continued, pulling out his clipboard, “I wanted to go over some fire restrictions while they’re still in effect. We’ve had a dry summer, and the forest is basically kindling right now. Nothing too complicated, just some common sense precautions.”
He ran through the list with the easy competence of someone who’d given this speech dozens of times but still cared enough to make sure I understood each point. No outdoor burning except in designated fire rings, clear any vegetation within ten feet of the cottage, keep a hose connected and ready during high danger days.
“The good news is we’re expecting rain by the end of the week,” he said, making a note on his clipboard. “Once that hits, restrictions should ease up. But until then, we’re all being careful as a cat stalking through dry leaves.”
“I understand.” I found myself relaxing into the familiar rhythm of his speech, the easy way he mixed practical information with those nature focused metaphors that had always been his trademark. “I grew up here, remember? I know how fast fires can move.”
“Course you do.” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Occupational hazard, I sometimes forget not everyone’s a city transplant who’s never seen a pine tree before.”
“Are there many of those?”
“More than you’d think. Hollow Haven’s been discovered by the remote work crowd. Good for the local economy, not always great for people who don’t realize that living in nature means adapting to natures’ rules.”
There was something in his tone that suggested personal experience with difficult newcomers, but I didn’t want to pry. I was the newcomer here, even if I had childhood history with the place.
“Well, I appreciate you stopping by,” I said, meaning it more than he could know. “And I promise to be careful with fire safety.”
“I know you will be.” He started to turn away, then paused. “I don’t suppose... would you be interested in seeing how the old trails have held up? I do regular patrol walks, and it might be nice to have company who remembers what this place used to be like.”
The invitation was casual, friendly, the kind of thing old friends might do to reconnect. But there was something in his eyes, a warmth that suggested his interest might not be entirely platonic. My pulse quickened in response, and I felt the familiar tug of attraction before I could stop myself.
This was exactly what I couldn’t afford. Complications with attractive men, even ones I’d known as children. Especially onesI’d known as children, who might think they knew me better than they actually did.
“Maybe,” I said carefully. “I’m still settling in, figuring out my routine here.”
“Of course.” If he was disappointed, he hid it well. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind. And if you need anything, anything at all, just call the ranger station. We’re here to help.”
I watched him walk back to his truck, noting the confident set of his shoulders and the way he moved like someone who belonged exactly where he was. When he reached the driver’s side, he turned and waved, and I found myself raising my hand in response.
The cottage felt different when I closed the door behind me. Not empty, exactly, but expectant. Like the space was waiting to see what I’d make of this second chance at the life I’d thought I wanted.
I returned to my abandoned eggs, now cold but still delicious enough to finish. Outside the kitchen window, the garden beckoned with late season tomatoes still clinging to their vines and herbs that had gone wild but still held their fragrance. Maybe I could clean up the beds, plant something for spring. Maybe I could find my way back to the woman who’d once believed that cooking was about nourishment and joy instead of survival and reputation.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of pine and woodsmoke from someone’s fireplace. But underneath those familiar mountain smells was something else, something that made my omega instincts stir restlessly. Multiple scents, actually, complex and appealing in ways that made me think of safety and strength and all the things I’d told myself I didn’t need.
I pushed the thought away and focused on washing my dishes. I’d come here to heal, to rebuild, to figure out who Talia Quinnwas when she wasn’t performing for critics or trying to please men who couldn’t be pleased.
Romance, especially the complicated, biology driven kind my instincts seemed to crave, was the last thing I needed. Even if the mountain air carried promises I wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge, and even if my childhood friend had grown up to be exactly the kind of man who might make me forget why I’d sworn off alphas entirely.
The cottage settled around me with small creaks and sighs, like an old house learning the weight and rhythms of its new occupant. Through the window, the mountains stood eternal and patient, keeping their promises of sanctuary and second chances.
For tonight, that was enough.
Chapter 2
