Page 83 of Knot Just for Show

Ursula pads over to me on bare feet, almost a full foot shorter than I, and stands inside my personal space—hands on the generous curve of her hips.

“If I pass, do I get to know what’s on the menu tonight?” She smirks up at me, my hands closing gently around her wrists—moving her hands from her hips to my own waist—her arms closing around me easily in an embrace—my hands caressing her shoulders, moving down her sides.

“Besides you?” I growl low, under my breath as we draw closer—my hands curving around to her lower back.

“Do I get to be the first course?” Ursula winks, her hands ferreting their way inside my half-unbuttoned shirt.

“If the goddamn producers didn’t insist on us having a bonafidedateportion of this segment—I’d be making you a full 15 course Kaiseki all to myself,” I rumble, Ursula’s omega perfume hitting me in a thick, sweet wave as her body presses against mine.

“Well, sounds like we better eat our metaphorical veggies so we can cut to dessert.” Ursula grins, pressing onto her toes to peck a kiss onto my lips before she slips past me into the kitchen.

I follow her into the kitchen, pulling one of the low backed stools away from the large island, so Ursula can take a seat overlooking my work in the kitchen.

“So, how have the other dates been going?” I ask casually, though my interest is far from cursory.

Ursula lays the pad of her index finger across her full bottom lip—and I try to keep my thoughts from becoming obscene as she ponders her response.

“It’s so strange to suddenly be talking about this kind of stuff with all of you,” she begins, shaking her head—bemused. “But…everything has been really good so far. Much different than I ever expected, but also way better than I had expected, too.”

On the cutting board before me, I begin preparing fresh ginger, lemongrass, garlic—a small dish of enormous prawns beside the stove—a pan ready to begin on the nearest burner.

“Different how?” I prompt her casually, my knife working easily as we chat—those sparkling citrine eyes of hers lock on my nimble motions.

“Well, there’s this whole element.” She makes a little lasso motion with her finger before clarifying, “I end up talking with all of you—sometimes together, sometimes about one another. I know that y’all talk about me too. Not to say this is a bad thing—it’s just sort of the nature of the beast, y’know? If you want to communicate as a pack openly, it’s a lot of coordination—it’s tricky.”

I toss half of the prepared aromatics into the pan and begin shelling the prawns, nodding along with Ursula’s assessment.

“You’re not wrong there, it’s pretty complicated to hash out communication between two grown ass adults. With what? There’s six of us, right? That’s hard mode.” I toss the prawn shells into the pan along with the aromatics to start building a quick prawn broth for the appetizer.

“Then there’s the matter of how things are developing between all of you…” She lets theyou—a reference to all of us guys, breathe a moment—clearly waiting for me to fill the space.

“Yeah, I feel like that’s been a little bit of uncharted territory for a bunch of us.” I hedge my response, not sure how much I should give away during this dinner that’s meant to focus on the two of us.

Ursula nods slowly, taking a sip of her bubbly—her eyes watching me carefully as I add a bit of dry white wine to the pan, my wooden spoon moving quickly to keep all the ingredients in motion.

“I don’t know how much you’ve talked with the other guys,” she dangles, the admission—this time I am all but being asked to respond with a bit more oomph, so I oblige.

“I’ve talked to Ronan a little bit,” I take in a deep breath—straining the broth from the shells and bits of spent aromatic, and returning it to the stove in a small saucepan to keep it warm as I return my newly freed saute pan to the burner, allowing it to heat before I drop a pat of butter onto its sizzling surface.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten a chance to mention, since we’ve been sucked up in the whirlwind of the reveal and the idyllic pace of island life and courting, but I actually knew Ronan before Build-A-Pack-Blind.” I begin cautiously, worried that any false move might tank the mood of the entire evening.

Ursula becomes very still, her eyes focused keenly on me, not the loud hissing of the pan as I drop the raw prawns onto the hot metal, the butter foaming—ready to perform the alchemy of turning mere ingredients into delicious food.

“Oh, really?” She does her best to remain casual, but I can see the gentle tremor in the muscle below her left eye giving her away.

“Nothing bad—not at all!” I assure her, waving one hand dismissively as I handily toss the prawns in the pan with theother—flipping them onto their alternate side. “Obviously you know now about Pomme Verte—and you’ve seen my tattoos.” I take a moment to turn my arms over—showcasing the ink. “Well, my tattoo artist introduced me to Ronan to help me figure out furnishing the restaurant with plants.”

Ursula slowly uncrosses and re-crosses her legs, one eyebrow raised—her eyes beckoning:‘go on’.

“He and I got pretty close pretty fast,” I admit—flipping the prawns again before adding another pat of butter—slicing a fresh lemon in half and squeezing the acidic juice over the prawns—the liquid sizzles furiously in the hot pan. “I don’t think I was ready to even consider the fact that we might be more than just fast friends at the time, but once the restaurant opened and started doing a ton of business—I didn’t really have a whole lot of time to think about it. I started flaking out on our hang out sessions, stopped making plans to hang out with Ronan myself—and then he, understandably, wasn’t around anymore.” I re-introduce the prawn broth to the hot pan—allowing the prawns to luxuriate in the sauce for a few seconds before beginning to plate the appetizer in two small shallow bowls.

“I see.” Ursula nods sagely.

“He and I had been talking a bit about what things might look like in the future—being pack—what might have a chance to develop…and then there was the whole bit with Teddy and Lysander on the dance floor the other night.” I clear my throat and give her a look.

If I’m not mistaken—our little omega looks downright smug.

“I’m as surprised as anyone.” Ursula gives a noncommittal shrug.

---