Page 3 of Knot in Bloom
The scent hits me even through the glass. Leather, cedar, and something expensive. Sophisticated and polished, completely out of place in this small mountain town. My omega instincts recognize it before my brain does, making me want to straighten my pajamas and pretend I have my life together.
For a moment, our eyes meet through the glass. Dark hair perfectly styled, sharp jawline, intense green eyes that seem to catalog everything they see. He’s wearing a tailored jacket that probably costs more than what I pay for rent. He takes a half-step toward my shop like he’s thinking about coming over to help.
Then he seems to catch himself and moves on, and I’m left wondering if I imagined the way his scent affected me. Or why a man who clearly belongs in boardrooms would be walking around Honeyridge Falls at dawn.
I shake my head. Now is not the time for mysterious strangers and whatever that was. The clock on the wall reads six AM now.I have exactly forty-eight hours to replace the rehearsal dinner centerpieces, get fresh flowers for the weekend wedding, and somehow prove that Meadow’s End Florist doesn’t ruin the most important family gatherings of people’s lives.
Time to get to work.
Chapter 2
Levi
I’ve been bringing Sadie coffee twice a week for six weeks. She still thinks it’s coincidental that I walk past her shop on my way to work.
It’s not really on my way. I have to walk past my own bookstore to get to The Honey Crumb first, then double back with coffee and whatever excuse I’ve crafted that morning. The route makes no logical sense, but Sadie hasn’t called me on it yet.
Either she hasn’t noticed, or she’s being polite about my completely transparent excuse to see her twice a week. Either way, I’m not stopping. These ten-minute conversations are the best part of my week, the only time her scent doesn’t carry that underlying stress that makes my alpha instincts want to solve all her problems at once.
Today I’m carrying two cups and a blueberry muffin from Maeve’s. Sadie never eats breakfast but stares at other people’s food like she’s forgotten meals exist. Like she’s so busy taking care of everyone else that basic self-care becomes an afterthought.
The October air is sharp enough to see my breath, crisp in that way that makes everything feel more alive. The peaksaround our valley are painted gold and red, autumn showing off before winter takes over. Morning light catches the frost on storefront windows, turning Main Street into something from a poetry book.
This is the time of day I love most. Before the world gets complicated. When it’s just me and the mountains and the anticipation of seeing Sadie’s face light up when I hand her real coffee.
I turn onto Main Street and freeze.
Water pours out of her shop. Not a little water from an overflowing sink. A lot of water, like someone forgot to turn off a fire hose inside her beautiful flower sanctuary.
The coffee hits the sidewalk before I realize I’ve dropped it. Hot liquid splashes across my boots, but I’m already moving toward disaster.
“Sadie?”
She’s standing in what used to be her pristine sales floor, wearing an oversized sleep shirt that says something about blooming where you’re planted. Her honey-blonde hair escapes from a messy bun, damp at the ends. Mascara tracks down her fair, freckled cheeks like she’s been crying for hours.
She looks small. Lost. Devastated in the middle of her flooded sanctuary.
Her scent hits me all wrong immediately. That sweet floral warmth I’ve memorized over six weeks of coffee visits is twisted with sharp panic. Honeysuckle turning bitter, vanilla curdling with stress. But underneath there’s something else that makes my chest tight with the need to help.
Every protective instinct I have snaps to attention.
My cock stirs in my jeans just from her proximity, which is completely inappropriate given the circumstances but impossible to ignore. Even in crisis, even surrounded by disaster, she affects me in ways that bypass rational thought.
“Levi.” Her voice cracks. “I’m closed. The sign says?—”
“What happened?”
The question comes out more intense than I intended. Seeing her like this, vulnerable and overwhelmed, makes me want to fix everything that’s ever gone wrong in her life. Makes me want to wrap her in my arms until that distress scent fades and she smells like honey and safety again.
“Roof leak. Overnight.” She gestures helplessly at the destruction, water dripping from her fingertips.”Everything for the Kerr rehearsal dinner is ruined. Everything Sarah’s been planning for months.”
She says it like this disaster is somehow her fault. Like she personally summoned water from the sky to destroy her life’s work. The self-blame in her voice makes something protective and possessive unfurl in my chest.
“Insurance?”
She laughs bitterly, and the sound cuts through me. “Not covered. I let my insurance lapse last month because I couldn’t afford the premium increase. They’ll find some clause to not pay me anyway.” She kicks at a floating marigold.”And even if they did cover it, that doesn’t help me explain to Sarah why her rehearsal dinner centerpiece is doing water ballet.”
I roll up my sleeves without thinking. Step into the ankle-deep water, my shoes soaking through immediately. Cold seeps through leather and socks, but I don’t care. “What can we save?”
