Hooking Him (How to Catch an Alpha #3)(22)

“Will Bane be okay out on the deck, or should we leave him inside?”

“He should be okay. Then again, I got home today to find he’d eaten half a cushion from my couch, so I don’t know what to expect from him right now.”

“He ate a cushion?” She looks to where he’s nosing the ground. “Is he okay?”

“It’s not the first time. This is just the first time in a while. He should be fine.”

“How old is he?” she asks, lifting up on her bare feet to grab plates off one of the open shelves.

“He turns two next week.” I lean back against the counter with my beer and take a moment to appreciate the way her hair looks down, the dip of her waist, and the way her ass looks in her jeans.

“Then he should be out of the puppy stage soon.” She grins at me over her shoulder. “My mom got one of those little yippy dogs when I was about sixteen, and he was annoying and destructive until he was about two and a half.”

“Good news for me.”

“Yeah.” She tips her head to the side. “Do you want to carry the pizza out?”

“Lead the way.” I pick up the pizza and follow her out to the deck, where there’s a small table and two adirondack chairs. I place the box on the table and take a seat while she does the same before handing me a plate. Once we both have a slice of pizza and Bane is settled near the top of the steps, I break the comfortable silence that’s settled between us, even though I don’t want to. “I went to talk to Max today.”

“I had a feeling that’s what you were doing when you left the shop this afternoon,” she says quietly, and I focus on her, hating what I’m about to say. “You warned me she was going to run the story.”

“I knew she’d run the story, but I thought she and I had an agreement that your name would be left out.”

“I’m not in witness protection, Calvin. It’s not a big deal she used my name. I mean, it was weird having people come into the shop asking for me and acting like I’m some kind of savior. But I think we both know that tomorrow I’ll be old news, and people will be moving on with their lives. I’m just happy Amy is okay.”

She’s wrong, so fucking wrong. “She knows who you are, Anna.”

My jaw twitches with frustration when she smiles, clearly not understanding what I mean. “I know.”

“No, baby. She knows who you are. She knows who your family is.” Her eyes close, but I continue. “She knows about your fiancé and that you canceled your wedding.” Her face loses color, and the anger I felt earlier comes back full force. “She’s planning on publishing your story, and there is not one fucking thing I can do about it.”

“I . . . I . . . I don’t even . . .” She shakes her head. “Why? Why would she do that?” she asks, and I take her plate before she drops it, because her hands are shaking, and set both our plates down. “She can’t do that . . . can she?”

“I’m sorry, Anna.”

She sits forward, pushing her fingers through her hair and making her red curls look even wilder. “Why would she want to write about that?”

“Your family is loaded. Your ex is, too, and you ran away from them to live here and work at a bakery.”

“I left because I wanted to be happy,” she says, like she’s talking to herself. “I wanted to be near the ocean. The few happy childhood memories I have involved the beach. It was as if the ocean had the power to bring out the best in my parents.” She turns to look at me, and I fight the urge to pull her into my lap to hold her, to comfort her. “Thinking about it now, it might have been the only time they were ever happy, the only time I was ever allowed to be me. That’s why I left Chicago; I realized I was going to end up just like them. I was going to marry a guy I wasn’t in love with and spend the rest of my life living a lie.” She looks away, and when she speaks again, the pain she’s feeling is audible. “Maybe you should go. Maybe you coming here was a bad idea.”

“I’m not leaving.” The words are rough, and she turns to eye me warily when I take her hand. “Knowing you have a past hasn’t changed the fact that I want to get to know you.”

“Was your past ever splashed all over the town’s local paper without your approval?”

“No, but I grew up here, so I’m sure at some point you’ll hear a story or two about me.”

“What kind of stories?” she asks, dropping her gaze to my thumb as it rubs across her wrist.

“I was a rebel growing up. I was always pushing boundaries and getting in trouble.”

“That’s surprising. I would have guessed you always followed the rules.”

“I wanted my parents to prove they loved me enough to stick around, regardless of how shitty I was,” I tell her truthfully. “I don’t remember my birth parents—not much about them, really—but them abandoning me became a part of who I was, who I am, and when I was a kid it made me feel insecure.”

“Calvin.” She turns her hand in mine and grasps my fingers.

“You’ll probably hear about me and my ex at some point too. I was with her for several years. I thought we were working toward spending the rest of our lives together, but she realized that she couldn’t live a life where her future husband missed events and was out all night because of work.”