Page 46 of Knot on the Market

He's not wrong, which is irritating. "Maybe I like being helpful."

"Dean." I can see him gearing up for one of his gentle but pointed observations. "Yesterday when you got back from furniture shopping, you were grinning like an idiot and you smelled like someone who'd had a very good day. What happened?"

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "She stole my shirt."

Levi blinks. "She what?"

"Took it when I wasn't looking. Hid it behind her back when I mentioned it was missing." The memory makes something warm settle in my chest. "She wanted my scent, Levi."

"And that's not 'I appreciate my helpful neighbor' behavior," Levi says with growing amusement. "That's 'I want this alpha's scent in my space' behavior. At some point, being yourself has to include actually telling her how you feel."

The words hit me square in the chest, forcing me to acknowledge what I've been dancing around for days. I do want more than friendship. I want to cook for her regularly, want to help her with projects around the house, want to be the person she calls when she needs something. I want to know what makes her laugh, what she thinks about when she's alone, what she looks like first thing in the morning.

I want to know if she's sleeping with my shirt, if my scent helps her feel safe in that big house.

I want her to keep stealing my clothes.

"You're right," I say, the admission coming easier than I expected. "I should probably stop dancing around it."

"Good." Levi picks up his book again with satisfaction. "Now go text her before you overthink yourself out of it."

I'm already reaching for my phone when Levi heads off to help Mrs. Peterson, leaving me alone with my coffee and my thoughts.

I stare at the blank message screen for longer than I should, drafting and deleting texts like I'm negotiating international treaties instead of just trying to say hello to a woman I like.

Hey, did I leave my shirt there? lol no big deal

Delete.

Morning Hope the new chair is comfy.

Delete. Too casual. Doesn't give her an opening to invite me over.

Morning, sunshine. Want some company today? I can swing by to help Callum with the porch if you're around.

That's better. Acknowledges that Callum will be there, no pressure, just offering to help. And the "sunshine" feels right, casual but affectionate.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself.

Her response comes back faster than I expected:

That would be great. If you're not working.

The quick reply makes something warm settle in my chest. She wants me there. Wants my help, my company, my presence in her space while she works on making it more like home.

Day off today. I'll bring coffee. Anything else you need?

I watch the three dots appear and disappear, then appear again. Whatever she's typing is taking some thought.

Just you.

The simple words hit me like a physical blow. Just you. Not just my help with the porch, not just the coffee or the extra pair of hands. Me. Specifically me.

I stare at the phone for a long moment, rereading the message and feeling something shift into place in my chest. Something possessive and protective and entirely too intense for a week-old acquaintance.

Something that feels an awful lot like the beginning of a bond.

I type back quickly:On my way in an hour.

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