“Tell him he’s a dick.”
“She already called me that.” He sounds cockier than ever. I have no idea what his angle is right now, but it’s not making me sad . . . it’s making me mad.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Dakota hisses at him. She nods at Rowan while speaking to me. “Go ahead, tell him.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Dakota and I would like you to be aware of our ill feelings toward you. We spoke, and we agree—you’re a microboaby.”
“Aye, good to know.” He’s unfazed. “When you’re done acting like a child, I would like to have an adult conversation.”
“Acting like a child?” I just about scream. “You’re the one who threw a temper tantrum when I opened your man shed. News flash: I was just trying to get one more look at your power washer, not invade your privacy. Sheesh, you would have thought I’d found your collection of twisted-off nipples or something.”
“From what I heard, the reaction was uncalled for,” Dakota says.
“It was,” he agrees. “It wasn’t fair. I took my built-up anger out on Bonnie when I should have leaned on her for support.”
Support?
For what?
“Did something happen?” I ask.
He moves from the counter and goes to the door, opening it a crack and lifting up a paper bag, which he apparently left outside. Confused, I watch him close the distance and hold it up to me. “I made this for you before I selfishly lost my temper. Thought you could take it with you.”
Oh . . . a parting gift.
Huh.
Why did I think, and maybe even hope, that he was going to beg me to stay?
I take the gift. “Well, thank you. I’ll be sure to send a thank-you card.” I motion to the door. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some cake to tend to.”
“Open the gift, Bonnie.”
“I think I’d rather save it for a surprise later.”
“Open. It.”
“I think he wants you to open it,” Dakota whispers.
“I know what he wants,” I hiss. “Fine, I’ll open it.” I tear the tissue paper out of the way and let it float to the floor as I reach into the bag and grip a round object. I pull it out, and my breath seizes in my lungs as I take in the beautiful hand-thrown mug. Covered in white glaze with pink dripping upward at the bottom, it’s speckled and beautiful, with . . . oh God, is that a hairy coo stamped into the side?
“I wanted to give you something that reminded you of all that you’ve accomplished. All that you’ve done for this town . . . for my family,” he adds quietly, and the confident alpha who barged in here quickly morphs into a shy human being.
“It’s . . . it’s beautiful, Rowan.”
“Thank you.” Growing serious, he takes a step forward and lifts my chin so I’m forced to show him the tears welling in my eyes. “That morning, the phone call I took, it was my parents.” He clears his throat. “Contrary to what they told me, they weren’t on holibags. They were in London, meeting with a specialist. My da has bone cancer.”
“Oh God,” Dakota and I say at the same time.
Dakota hops off the counter, clearly sensing the shift in mood. “I’m just going to give you two some space.” With that, she hurries into the shop’s kitchen, leaving me alone with Rowan.
“Could we sit?” he asks, and I nod, leading the way to one of the tables. We lower the chairs and both take a seat.
“Is your dad going to be okay?” I ask, clutching the mug.
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, eyes cast down, hands folded. “I wish I could say that he is, but he only has a few weeks left. We have a hospice nurse staying at my parents’ house, helping us through the process. We went to the pub the other night, and she walked me through everything to expect in the coming weeks.”
“Oh my God, Rowan, I’m so sorry. How are you dealing with all of it?”
“Well, it’s forced me to have some tough conversations—conversations I never thought I’d have with my father. I’m grateful for them, though, for this last week I’ve spent by his side, talking to him about everything and nothing. It’s meant a lot to me. But it also made me forget about something important.” He reaches over and taps the mug in my hands. “I was supposed to give that to you on Friday, on reopening day, but I wasn’t there. I also forgot about—”
“Rowan, you clearly had more important things to deal with than a silly reopening.”