Jared chuckles and rubs his cheek against her bare shoulder. “Of course you were.”
“Hush, you,” she says, a blush rising to her cheeks. “This isn’t work.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Amused, he turns toward me. “The crew had bets on how many days it would be before Emily got twitchy and wanted to get back to work.”
“Oh, no, don’t let me?—”
“It’s too late,” Jared interrupts me. “The wheels are already turning in Emily’s head. She’s excited about the project.”
My attention jumps back to Emily, who hums in agreement as she nibbles on a puff pastry hors d’oeuvre.
A new figure joins our small gathering, the tap of his cane on the hardwood floor announcing Grady’s approach, his movements slow but not hesitant like mine were.
“There you are.” Emily shifts, making space for Grady between herself and Jared. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”
“Interviews for the article.” Grady gestures toward the group of investors near the bar. “Got some good quotes about Phase Two funding.”
Emily holds out her plate to him. “Have you eaten? They’ve got these delicious little pastry things.”
Grady leans closer with interest and plucks a mushroom cup from her plate with an easy familiarity that twists in my stomach.
She nudges her plate closer. “Eat as much as you want. You need fuel for all this schmoozing.”
Satisfaction radiates from her as he takes another hors d’oeuvre before she turns back to include me. “Grady’s writing an article about the resort for the local paper.”
The easy intimacy between them speaks of deep familiarity. The way Emily fusses over Grady, ensuring he eats. The way he leans into it. Jared’s comfortable presence at Emily’s side, bringing her food without needing to ask what she wants.
And me. The Omega in orbit around them, older than Jared, yet lacking his easy confidence when interacting with others. He’s younger, less experienced by any reasonable measure, and still certain in a way I haven’t been for years. Closer to Emily in age, I should be more established in my life, yet I’m stuck in quicksand.
The comparison hits harder than it should. I have no claim here, no right to feel left behind. Yet watching them interact makes me aware of how much Carson took from me, how he taught me to fear trust itself. And I want to be more than this fear.
I clear my throat. “Can I get anyone a refill? I’m headed to the bar.”
The offer comes from a need to walk off the tension tightening around my chest.
Emily touches her empty glass. “I wouldn’t say no to another seltzer with lime.”
I reach for her glass, grateful for the task, when Jared’s attention shifts past my shoulder, and his brow furrows.
“Who’s the new arrival?” he asks, stiffening with an Alpha’s territorial awareness. “By the dessert table.”
Grady turns to look, balancing with his cane. “Oh, that’s the new dean of Pinecrest Academy. Probably here to schmooze donors.”
Curious, I turn, and my stomach drops, the room tilting for a fraction of a second.
Grady squints in thought. “I believe his name is?—”
The name falls from my numb lips. “Carson Whitaker.”
Chapter Five
Emily
My Alpha instincts register Leif’s fear before my conscious mind catches how the openness that had softened his features seconds ago vanishes, his periwinkle eyes dulling.
“Excuse me,” Leif says, his broad shoulders curving inward, his chest hollowing. “I should check on Quinn.”
Before any of us can respond, he slinks away, his tall frame moving with a furtive stealth that strikes me as far more concerning than if he’d bolted in panic. I’ve seen fear before on job sites after accidents, in crew members trying to hold it together when catastrophe strikes.