Page 33 of Alpha Ruined
Bree’s not nesting. She’snot.
She’s just anticipating it getting cold at night.
Her Heat isn’t due for a while, so nestingdefinitelyisn’t happening.
Cole’s scent stays with her down the stairs and into the kitchen. There’s not much to eat; her plan is to go to the grocery store in Elmwood later in the day. But she knows there’s ice cold water in the fridge, and that will have to be enough for now.
Her jaw drops when she opens the fridge.
The property manager had told her she was welcome to whatever was still in there, but this can’t be accurate.
Fresh produce fills the crisper drawers, one full of rich green vegetables and the other of brightly colored fruits, andthe fridge shelves are stocked with local cheeses, meat alternatives, and fresh juices.
Bree shuts the door and opens the pantry.
Different grains and canned goods line the shelves.
They weren’t there before.
She huffs out a breath, knowing she shouldn’t panic aboutartisan cheesesandquinoa,but their sudden appearance doesn’t make any sense.
Bree quickly sends an email to the property manager through her phone to double check that the fridge and panty were already stocked.
She wants to ignore the nagging feeling that somehow Cole was behind it because of how irrational is sounds.
No, the hot weird guy didn’t break into your rental cabin and sneak groceries into the kitchen.
She opens the fridge again and marvels at its contents. It’s as if someone read her mind and knew exactly what she wanted.
Her phone buzzes with an email back from the manager.
Yes! We always stock the fridge as a welcome present for our guests. Enjoy!
She breathes a sigh of relief. She worried for nothing.
It’s possible she was so exhausted that she just didn’t pay attention to the fridge contents the other night.
So, she helps herself to some cheese, crackers, and strawberries for a quick breakfast. She’s finishing up the last of the cheese when Darlene texts her, inviting Bree over to her place.
Bree’s first instinct is to say no. She usually feels awkward around new people.
But Darlene is kind, friendly, and Bree’s gut instinct tells her to go.
So, she agrees.
“You can takeoff your sweater if you want, and I can light the fireplace so you’ll stay warm,” Darlene says, sitting on the loveseat opposite Bree.
Bree’s muscles tense and she fights the urge to wrap her arms around herself. “I’m fine,” she insists, clutching her mug of coffee tightly. “The temperature is perfect.”
Darlene’s place is perfect, as well. The cabin is quaint and welcoming, the front room full of original paintings and family photos. Her matching couch and loveseat are a light pink floral pattern, and blankets full of cat hair are strewn haphazardly on the backs of them.
Oscar, a twenty-pound orange cat, lies atop his massive cat tree, watching Bree with curious amber eyes.
It’s not just a house, it’s ahome.
Bree loves it immediately, even if Darlene’s gentle suggestion sends her into a panic.
Darlene snorts at Bree’s comment on the temperature. “Tell that to Kyle. He’d have the fireplace on in summer if I’d let him.”