Page 4 of Alpha’s Conquest

We went from the highway to a small town within seconds. It was so different from our fast-paced life in Hanford. There were no skyscrapers, no subways, or city buses. I wasn’t even sure if they had taxis here. Everything looked aged but well kept, even the cars parked on the street. The old brick buildings matched the red brick streets. There were so many trees, I almost couldn’t see the sky. The further we went, the more quaint it became.

“You grew up in this place?” I asked. My mouth dropped open as I spotted a little bakery beside a bookstore. So cute. He told me where he was from, but had said nothing about the town itself. Quaint didn’t feel like enough to describe it. Charming. Picturesque. As if we’d stepped into a photo on Pinterest.

“Yep,” Marshall confirmed. He lazily steered the car with one hand, the other lay across my shoulders. “It’s not a bad town to live in. There’s hardly any crime. The school is all in one building, from elementary to high school. We could run anywhere we wanted without being afraid someone would snatch us. My brother and I would stay out until dusk, just playing by the creek.”

It all sounded so perfect. And yet, he’d still moved away. I couldn’t imagine leaving a town like this.

“What made you come to Hanford?”

He turned away from me, his smile faltering for a moment as the tree shadows passed over his face. “Oakridge is a great place to grow up. It’s not so great once you’re done growing. There’s no opportunities here. Not the kind I wanted, at least.”

I saw his point. I doubted Oakridge had any need for street artists like me. Not to mention medical school for Marshall. I wondered if this town was even big enough to have a hospital.

We passed a cluster of restaurants and antique stores in the town square. The courthouse was smaller than our apartment building. You could buy your car tags, get divorced, and show up for jury duty all in the same place.

Only a few blocks away from downtown was a quiet neighborhood with more picturesque homes. Marshall pulled over in front of a charming two-story cottage. As excited as I was by the cute wooden trellis and the flowers in the window boxes, seeing that house dumped a cold bucket of water over my head.

I was meeting his family.

Marshall got out and opened the trunk to grab his bags from the back of the car. I had to force my hand to open my door and compel my legs to hold my weight as I got out. My knees shook when I walked to the back of the car and took my suitcase from the trunk.

Marshall was already on the front porch, digging in his pocket for the key. Were they here already, his dad and brother? I glanced at the empty driveway. The garage was closed, but they could’ve parked inside.

“Mar…” I started to say, but he was already unlocking the front door and walking inside the house.

No backing out now. This was happening.

Following him inside, I stepped into the bright living room. The furniture looked equal parts rustic cottage and summer bungalow. There were so many plants, from the little planters dotting the windowsills and the pots decorating every corner. Big ones, and tiny ones. Plants hanging from the ceiling. Thick tropical plants beside the couch. It was green on every surface. The home felt warm and simple, almost too perfect for a bachelor Alpha. There wasn’t even a dirty hoodie on the couch.

My nose was already trying to pick up ‌any scents in the house. Nothing. It was almost like no one lived here. But the folded newspaper on the coffee table and a mug beside it said otherwise. Even that felt placed, as if someone had set them there to take a picture.

“I think my brother already came to clean up,” Marshall’s voice called from around the corner. I crossed the living room, and a kitchen appeared from behind the wall. Just as homey and cottage-like as the living room, as if it came out of a catalogue. Marshall popped up beside me, pulling his bag over one shoulder. “Come on. My room is upstairs.”

His room. Right. I’d be sleeping in the same room as him. Not that we didn’t do that at home, but at his dad’s house it was so much more… intimate. A blatant signal to everyone that we did more than sleep in the same bed. I might as well wear a neon sign that said, ‘I'm having sex with your son.’

Marshall led me up a flight of stairs to the second floor. There were four doors up here, and he tilted his suitcase towards each one in turn. “Bathroom. Brother’s room.”

“He lives here? I thought he was older than you.”

“Technically, no, he has his own place, but my dad is a better cook, and my brother usually passes out from a food coma after dinner.” The suitcase pointed to the last room on the left. “My dad’s room.” He turned to the last door on the opposite side of the hallway. “And my room.”

I turned the handle and went inside. I expected Marshall’s room to feel like stepping back in time, a window into his youth with band posters and pictures of celebrities he crushed over, but I was disappointed to find it had the same charm and decor as the rest of the house. The childhood charm had been removed. “No posters?” I asked, glancing up at the ceiling in case I had missed one. “Not even a basketball trophy?”

Marshall chuckled under his breath and dropped his bags onto the bedspread. It was softer than our towels at home. “I took everything with me. Besides…” He paused, his fingers gripping the zipper on his suitcase. “My dad would’ve just packed it all up. He doesn’t like stuff on the walls that aren't photos of plants.” Marshall turned away, his entire focus on the clothes in his bag. There was definitely more to that story. Maybe it had something to do with why the house looked so… staged. He took his things out and put them in the dresser by the door, then turned back to me and gestured towards the bottom drawers. “Dresser.”

“You know only psychopaths unpack their clothes during a trip, right?”

A familiar glint in his eye made me gulp when he approached and slipped his arm around my waist. “I could do it for you. And then we’d have more time for other things.”

“Mar…” The word died on my lips, replaced with a deep hiss when he leaned down and kissed my neck. “Marshall. We’re in your dad’s house.”

“And he’s not home yet,” he reminded me. His lips slowly kissed a path up to my ear. Knowing the house was empty, I almost said yes. But I’d rather jump off a cliff than get caught with my pants down when his family came home.

“Later,” I whispered, and gently captured his lips for a kiss.

He relented with a loving sigh before stepping away to stash his empty bags in the closet. “I’m going to start dinner. If I don’t do it now, my dad will take over, and I want tonight to be special.” He gave my head a little kiss and left the bedroom. “Feel free to wander around.”

Wander around? In this picturesque cottage that didn’t even have dirty socks lying on the floor? I’d mess it up just by breathing. But I had time to kill and nothing else to do, so exploring was the only option, I suppose.