Page 45 of A Heart in Knots

He tossed the disk again, and used those few seconds to peel off his shirt and shove it into the back pocket of his cargo pants. A necklace on a chain bounced lightly against his chest.

I couldn’t help but stare.

He was perfect. Strong, but not like Crux, who was all compact and corded, or Severen who was solid. Rowan was athletically built, with well defined arms which I hadn’t really noticed until now, and great pecs that framed the strange charm necklace that bounced against his heart. Washboard abs were channeled down to his belt buckle by the deep V of his hips. His back, shimmering a little with sweat, rippled as he flung the disk again. His skin was lightly tanned and he had barely any chest hair, which only accented the perfection of his pecs even more.

I squeezed my thighs together under my skirt.

A small puffball of a puppy toddled over to him and wagged its little tail. It yipped up at him and nipped the toe of his running shoe.

“You’re new.” Rowan knelt and picked up the small puppy. It was a terrier, blonde and silver instead of black and brown. He could hold the entire creature in one hand. “Who do you belong to?” He checked the collar for a tag, and looked around, cupping the puppy close to his chest.

I could have melted at the sight. A purr rumbled deep down in my throat.

“Silky!” A little girl ran up to Rowan, arms out at her sides. “Excuse me, mister, that’s my puppy.”

“Here you go.” So carefully, he passed the fragile creature into the girl’s cradling arms.

“Thank you for finding her, mister,” said the little girl, before she ran off to her mother. “Mommy, look! That nice man found Silky!”

A woman with shining blonde hair that fell in waves down her back crouched down to the child’s eye level. She peeked around her daughter and studied the alpha who had saved their lost pup. He scrubbed at Tracker’s scruff as the dog once more brought the toy back. The girl’s mom rose and removed her sunglasses. Even at a distance, I could see her viper-green eyes, calculating and heated. The wind picked up, pulling through the blonde hair and dragging her rose garden and strawberry scent in my direction as her long legs carried her toward Rowan. The purr in my throat got all tangled up, I coughed, trying to dislodge it, and it turned into a growl. My hands strangled the shaft of the umbrella until my knuckles were white.

I couldn’t make out what she was saying to him, but the woman placed her hand on his chest.

My lips pulled back and my teeth ground together. “Mine.”

I gasped, guilt immediately flooding me. I shouldn’t have said that. Rowan was not mine. I had a pack already. My hands flew to my mouth to cover up what I had said, and to trap anything else that might slip out. The umbrella clattered onto the ground, took the sun hat with it, and I was bathed in sunlight.

Tracker barked, and hurried over to me first. He rested his head on my knee. Rowan wasn’t far behind, giving the rose and strawberry omega a polite, “excuse me”.

“Are you alright?” Rowan picked up the umbrella and held it over me, sheltering me in its shade.

“Yeah,” I tried to keep my voice even. “I think I’m just tired.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

It was the last thing I wanted. I’d much rather sit here and stare up at this caring, tender shirtless alpha with the sun back-lighting him like some sort of mythological god. “I’m sorry. I’m having a nice time. I really am. Maybe I just need some water.”

Mine.

Stop it.

My heart pounded in my chest.

He picked up my hat and I took it, pressing it back onto my head.

“Come on, let’s find something to drink.” He held his hand out for me and I took it. He helped me to my feet and we left the dog park.

The rest of the outing was low impact and even lower stakes. We found iced water, and returned to his car, AC blazing, as we talked for hours and watched silly videos on our phones until it really was time for him to take me home.

As I walked up the porch steps to the front door, the wordminewouldn’t leave me alone.

Chapter 29

SKYE

Thelibrarywasstateof the art, just like the hospital. Port Haven had pride in its community and civil responsibilities. It smelled like books, of course, but that was all it really smelled like. Probably it had some expensive air filtration system to neutralize scents. Smart.

I checked my phone and looked again at the picture of the flier I had snapped, and found the conference room. People, omegas, chit-chatted or selected baked goods from a table. Timidly I stepped in, pulling my cardigan tight around myself, not caring if I stretched it out of shape.

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