Page 41 of Knot on the Market

"Good. T-shirts like that are meant to be kept. History in cotton form."

The Pine Valley Furniture Warehouse sits on the outskirts of town like a converted airplane hangar, all concrete floors and fluorescent lighting and overwhelming selection. Dean takes one look at the maze of displays and rolls his shoulders like he's preparing for battle.

"Okay," he says, grabbing a shopping cart that looks ridiculously small next to his frame.

I can't help but giggle. "You can't fit a couch in that."

"It's for pillows and smaller things you might want," he says with a grin. "Trust me, I've done this before. So what's the first priority?"

"Couch," I say without hesitation. "Something I can actually relax on instead of perch on like I'm waiting for a job interview."

"Firm or soft?"

"Firm enough that I don't sink into it and disappear, but soft enough that I can fall asleep reading without my back punishing me for the next week."

Dean nods seriously, like I've given him crucial intelligence. "Right. We're looking for the Goldilocks of couches. Got it."

He guides the cart toward the living room section with confidence, weaving between displays with easy efficiency. I follow behind him, trying not to stare at the way his shoulders move under his shirt.

Focus, Lila. You're here to buy furniture, not ogle your helpful neighbor.

But it's hard to focus when Dean looks like that and smells even better.

"Okay," he says, parking the cart and crossing his arms. He studies the couch options like a general surveying a battlefield. "That one's too soft. You'd need a crane to get out of it." He gestures to a sleek modern piece. "That one's too firm. Looks like it was designed by someone who thinks comfort is a character flaw."

"And this one?" I ask, settling onto a mid-sized couch in warm brown leather.

Dean tests it by sitting down next to me, close enough that our thighs almost touch. I catch his scent mixing with the smell of new leather, and my pulse kicks up in response. He bounces slightly, testing the cushion give, then leans back and stretches his arms along the back, one arm nearly brushing my shoulders.

"Structural integrity seems sound," he says in an exaggeratedly serious tone. "Cushion resilience is within acceptable parameters."

"Very scientific."

"I take couch testing seriously." He grins at me, and suddenly I'm very aware of how close we're sitting, how his arm behind myshoulders creates an intimate bubble of space. "But the real test is comfort during extended use."

"Extended use?"

His voice drops slightly, taking on a teasing edge that makes something flutter low in my belly. "You know. Movie marathons. Lazy Sunday afternoons." His eyes hold mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Post-heat recovery when you need something that'll support you properly."

The way he says it, like he's imagining me in that vulnerable state. Like he'd want to take care of me through it makes my breath catch and my scent warm in response.

Don't think about that. Don't think about Dean taking care of you during heat.

"Dean," I start, not sure what I'm planning to say.

"Too much?" he asks, immediately backing off. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget that not everyone appreciates my sophisticated furniture analysis."

"No, it's..." I search for words that won't reveal how much his casual acceptance affects me. "It's nice. That you think about practical things like that."

"Of course I do." His expression turns serious for a moment. "Comfort matters. Especially when you're dealing with biology that doesn't ask permission."

The understanding in his voice, the complete lack of judgment about omega physiology, makes something warm and dangerous unfurl in my chest. When was the last time someone discussed heat like it was just another fact of life instead of something embarrassing?

"So," I say, clearing my throat, "does this couch pass the test?"

"For you? Absolutely." Dean stands up and offers me his hand. "But we should probably test a few more. You know, for comparison purposes."

The next hour passes in a blur of testing chairs and examining dining tables, with Dean providing running commentary that's equal parts helpful and entertaining. He tests the structural integrity of every piece like he's planning to personally vouch for its durability.

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