Page 53 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

Wes ignores him.

I gather the quilt tighter around my shoulders, which is the worst possible response if I’m trying to establish independence.

Roman shifts to make more room, and this time, I sit. The porch swing dips beneath my weight, bringing my thigh against his. His arm settles along the back cushion around me. Wes stays in front of us, one hip against the railing.

For a few seconds, I let myself have the arrangement. Roman’s warmth at my side. Wes’s cedar on my skin. Coffee waiting within reach.

“We should establish one thing,” I say.

Roman looks at me. “Only one?”

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

“I’m listening.”

“Sex doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to a bite or letting either of you rearrange my life.”

Wes answers first. “Understood.”

Roman nods.

That’s the answer I needed. It isn’t romantic. It is, unfortunately, one of the safest things anyone has ever offered me.

I reach for Wes. The choice surprises all of us.

My fingers close around his wrist and pull him the single step separating us. He comes without resistance. I press my cheek briefly against the inside of his forearm, breathing in cedar where his pulse beats beneath his skin. Wes goes still in his quiet steady way. Roman’s fingers brush the back of my neck.

I purr again, louder this time. Nobody pretends not to hear it. Wes’s hand settles gently over my hair. Roman kisses my temple. The contact lasts only a few breaths before I release Wes and retrieve my coffee.

“That’s enough emotional growth for one morning.”

Roman smiles. “I’m proud of you.”

“I’ll poison your next drink.”

Wes looks toward the kitchen door. “Get dressed. We’re going to review the archive request. We can stop at the stand and the springs on the way back.”

The command slides pleasantly down my spine. I narrow my eyes at him on principle. “That sounded like an order.”

“It was.”

Roman drinks his coffee. “You seem to like those more now.”

“I will throw both of you into the swamp.”

Neither man looks concerned, which is exactly why I should be.

Chapter 13

Scarlet Sage

The drive through town feels different today. People look for longer now. A pack outside the bakery stops talking entirely when Wes’s SUV rolls past. Two older betas near the courthouse glance toward me through the windshield before leaning toward each other in quick whispers.

Roman nods toward the window. “The locals continue to be welcoming.”

“They think I stole the stone.”

Wes keeps his eyes on the road. “No. They fear you know why it was taken.”