Page 52 of Knot Just for Show

For a moment, the bouquet is so complex that I don’t realize the underlying base note of alpha is missing. I’ve scented so few gammas in my life, I very nearly didn’t parse his designation at all.

Ronan’s quartz eyes catch mine and I wonder if he’s realized I’m a delta. He must have scented the others by now—everyone still seems to be playing nicely.

“Florist doesn’t really completely describe what Ronan does,” Mavren cuts in slyly, leaning out onto the table on his elbows. “He’s a full on landscape architect in addition to putting together really stunning arrangements and bouquets.”

Ronan practically purrs his delight at Mavren’s praise, a coy smile creeping its way across his face.

“It’s true,” he admits, batting his fiery lashes dramatically. “Of course Monsieur Renard is leaving out critical details, like how my biggest project to date is the greenery for his Michelin Star restaurant,” Ronan teases, his lashes flitting like copper feathers, fanning up and down all the while.

Aha. Now the line about celebrities makes sense.

Lysander’s brown eyes widen, his head nodding softly as his gaze lights up with recognition.

“Pomme Vert, it’s near Korea town, right? There was a profile on you and the menu for your place inFood and Winea month or so ago.” He pinches his chin between his thumb and crookedforefinger in contemplation, as if seeing Mavren again for the first time.

“Woah, I’ve walked past that place on the weekends man, it’s always packed,” Teddy marvels. “Way too fancy for a dude like me, but it looks like a magic greenhouse.”

“Yeah, I’m looking to open another place this year—my accountant keeps telling me now is the time; I gotta do it.” Mavren stacks some slices of cheese on seeded crackers and passes them out to us, I take my next morsel gladly.

“Aren’t we the motley crew?” Ronan laughs, kicking back in his chair and eying all of us. “We’ve got an actor, an executive chef, a world class DJ, a lowly florist, and the heir to the Ewing empire slash burgeoning art dealer,” he teases.

Aha! That’s what Ronan meant earlier by ‘blue blood prince.’ Old money, deep pockets—the kind of wealth that makes a nouveau-riche sucker like myself or Mavren look like a peasant by comparison.

Despite the fact that we are an incredibly odd mix, it appears that everyone is getting along almost a little too well—as if we’re already a pack.

My eyes catch Lysander’s, and he squirms—almost as if he can read my mind.

Like an invisible bolt of electricity traveling down a wire—it’s as if the others suddenly awake from the spell of idyllic compatibility and remember themselves—the absurdity of this situation, the idea that we might all be getting a lot closer than we may have bargained for very soon.

“So,” Ronan shakes off the awkward silence with relative ease—leaning back in his seat lazily, and balancing his drink on the metal arm of his lounge chair. “Since we’re all here now—why not talk a little shop?”

He smirks, one of his bright red brows arching mischievously.

“Talk shop?” Lysander parrots, a little lost. “But…none of us do the same thing?”

“Well, if it all goes off without a hitch—technically, we’d all be doing Ursula.” Teddy offers—a bit of that fuckboy glint shining through.

“What do y’all like about her the most?” Ronan redirects us.

“She’s kind, but not a pushover. Interesting, but not self-involved…and she’s very patient with some of my…quirks.” Lysander answers first, hesitating only with the finer details of his praise.

“She’s no bullshit. From the moment we introduced each other—she’s been nothing but genuine, and I happen to like everything I’ve seen,” Mavren adds thoughtfully, laughing once he’s realized the irony of his statement. “I mean—not literally seen, but you know what I mean,” he clarifies, the rest of us gently chuckling as we get the joke.

“I agree, of the women I talked to in this experience—she seems the most ‘real,’” Ronan piggy-backs off Mavren’s response. “I honestly kind of dumped a bunch of trauma on her right out the gate, and she took everything in stride—gracefully, too.” He beams, finishing on a dreamy sigh.

“I can’t lie,” I laugh a little nervously, preparing to throw my hat into the proverbial ring. “She got me before we even started talking—I had been zoned out in the bubble and she came in, singing to herself because she thought no one was there,” I explain—everyone’s eyes suddenly fixed on me with great interest. “Like a sailor catching an earful of a Siren’s song—I was fully prepared to dash myself upon the craggy rock face of an unknown shore after a mere handful of notes,” I admit, a little embarrassed, a little exhilarated.

“Jesus, watch out—we’ve got a poet in the group.” Ronan’s red brows shoot up and he elbows me hard in the ribs.

I can feel the blush heating my cheeks, so I continue on, “Once I actually got to talking to her, I was even more surprised by…” I trail off, unsure of just how much Ursula’s said about her heat experience to the others. “Everything about her.” I decide to end my sentiments vaguely.

There’s a chorus of approving hums and a chain of differently timed nods that travel around our small circle before a poignant silence falls—all of us turning our gazes to Teddy, who does not immediately volunteer his feelings; his throat working—Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as we watch him in eerie quiet.

He seems to realize with a start just how long he hasn’t offered his own contribution and begins with a halting, stammered, “Well, I —uh.”

Lysander seems to regard Teddy with a new, chillier air—the two had been roughhousing like old friends or even brother’s moments ago, but Teddy’s apparent trepidation regarding Ursula has cast him in a new light; not just for Lysander—but all of us.

“I know some of you guys are only matched with one omega right now, which is totally legit—but for me…I mean, it’s still pretty early—y’know?” He squirms, running a hand back through his short black hair—shaking some pool water from the strands—making it stand in dark, messy spikes straight up in the air.

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