Page 7 of Knot a Good Idea

Box after box of packaged macarons sit on the desk near the shelves packed with seasonal flavors.

It’s almost the holiday season, and the café is known for its macarons.

A year ago, I was the one brainstorming new and innovative flavors with Skylar for the holidays.

I haven’t thought of one flavor this year.

The boxes are full of pumpkin, cranberry, and apple pie macarons, all crafted by Devyn.

The beginning of a migraine forms behind my eyes, and I sigh.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to save her job, nor Jamie or Luke’s.

A year ago, I’m sure I would have found a solution.

But now…

“Hey.” Skylar enters the room and grabs her apron, early for her shift. “We’re slow today, huh? What’s up with that?”

“Mm-hmm.” I keep the rag pressed to my hand, the pain subsiding.

“Okay, well, it’s slow now, but just wait until we announce the holiday boxes—oh shit, are you okay? I mean, fuck…” She squints her eyes shut and crinkles her nose. “…I didn’t mean are youokay, I mean I was just checking in?—”

I fight back a groan. “I’mfine, but I do need to talk to you about something.”

Skylar’s blue eyes widen as she finishes tying her apron. “Oh, shit. What?”

I sigh. “It’s about Devyn, Luke, and Jamie.”

“Ugh. What did the kiddos do?” Skylar fakes a grimace. I know she adores them even though she teases them, which makes what I’m going to tell her that much worse.

“It’s nothing they did, it’s just?—”

Devyn pops her face in, her bright eyes wide and her blonde ponytail waving back and forth. “Hey, we just got busy. April, could you help?”

“Sure.” I glance at Skylar. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay,” Skylar murmurs. I can tell my best friend is freaking out, though.

So am I.

I don’t know how to help Devyn. I don’t know how to help anyone.

Grant yourself grace.

Sandy’s words aren’t helping at the moment.

I drag my feet out of the stockroom, reluctant to face any more customers.

But as I step into the front of the café, I realize three things at once.

One, we’re not busy at all. There’s only one customer in the entire café.

Two, the Alpha at the counter, frowning with impatience, isgorgeous.

Three, his scent almost knocks me over.

But none of that matters. I shove the acknowledgement of his good looks into the back of my mind. His black hair, dark stubble and hard jaw structure aren’t important. The grey suit that looks like it was tailored just for him isn’tthatflattering.

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