Page 45 of Knot on the Market

I replay the evidence while I stretch against the sheets, working out the pleasant ache from yesterday's furniture hauling. The way she stood in her kitchen doorway, arms tucked suspiciously behind her back, her scent spiking with that crisp green apple sweetness turning sharp with nerves. How she kept shifting her weight like she was hiding treasure. The careful way she avoided my eyes when I mentioned the missing shirt.

I could smell my own scent clinging to her when she moved, mixing with that green apple and white musk in ways that made my alpha instincts practically purr with satisfaction.

She wanted something that smelled like me. Wanted it enough to risk getting caught red-handed.

The knowledge sends warmth spreading through my chest, the kind of happiness that makes me want to grin like an idiot and maybe do something embarrassingly enthusiastic like bring her breakfast and flowers and offer to fix everything in her house whether it needs fixing or not.

I let myself replay the whole afternoon. The way she'd looked testing furniture, focused and decisive once she found what she wanted. How her scent had changed when I'd taken my shirt off, that crisp green apple turning deeper, warmer, the white musk underneath becoming more pronounced. The flush across her cheeks, the way she'd gripped the truck door like she needed the support.

The subtle, unmistakable hint of slick in the air before she'd disappeared into the house.

My body responds to the memory before my brain can stop it, and I have to take a deep breath and think about equipment maintenance schedules until I'm calm enough to function like a rational adult.

Lila James affects me in ways I'm not entirely prepared for. Ways that bypass rational thought and go straight to something much more primal and possessive.

I check my phone: 9:47 AM. Later than I usually sleep, but I'd stayed up too late thinking about green apple and stolen shirts and what it might mean that an omega I barely know has made me feel more alive in a week than I have in years.

Coffee first. Then figure out if there's a way to see her today without seeming desperate.

I'm halfway to the kitchen when I hear voices from the living room. Levi's low murmur and someone else responding. When I round the corner, I find Levi on the couch with a cup of coffee, talking to our neighbor Mrs. Peterson through the open front door.

"—just need someone to help me move that dresser upstairs," she's saying. "My back isn't what it used to be."

"I can handle that," Levi says easily. "Give me twenty minutes to finish my coffee?"

"You're a lifesaver, honey. Thank you."

She waves goodbye, and Levi glances up at me with amusement. "Look who's finally awake. Rough night?"

"Good night," I correct, heading for the coffee pot. "Slept like the dead."

"Hmm." Levi marks his place in his book and studies me with that quiet way he has of seeing more than people expect. "You're in a good mood. Yesterday went well, I take it?"

"Yeah, it did." I pour coffee and lean against the counter, trying to keep the dopey grin off my face. "Helped her pick out some furniture. She's got good taste."

"I'm sure she does." There's something in Levi's tone that suggests he's not entirely talking about furniture. "And how was the famous furniture shopping experience? Very domestic?"

"It was..." I search for words that won't reveal exactly how domestic it felt. How right it seemed to help her test couches and negotiate with sales associates and load furniture into my truck like we'd been doing it for years. "It was nice. Really nice."

"Nice," Levi repeats with barely concealed amusement. "Right. Well, since you're in such a good mood, maybe you can help me figure something out."

"What kind of something?"

"I was thinking about getting some flowers for the house," Levi says, glancing up from his book. "Brighten the place up a little."

"Flowers are nice," I say, already half-distracted by thoughts of Lila.

Wait. Flowers. Should I bring Lila flowers? Maybe the ones she has need replacing. Do people replace flowers regularly? Would bringing flowers seem too... much?

"Earth to Dean," Levi says with amusement. "You're thinking very loudly over there."

"Just thinking about my day," I say, refocusing on my coffee.

Levi sets down his book and studies me with that quiet way he has of reading people. "So," he says with a small smile. "Still planning to just 'be yourself' and hope she figures out how you feel?"

The gentle teasing hits closer to home than I'm comfortable with. "That's worked so far."

"Has it?" Levi raises an eyebrow. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're still in the same place we talked about a few days ago. Helpful neighbor who brings coffee and moves furniture."

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