Page 121 of Knotted By my Pack
“Yeah. Just realizing how much I love this place.”
“Because of the lemon tarts?”
“Because of everything.”
Around four, the pace finally slows. A few customers linger by the front window, sipping their drinks and chatting, the faint hum of music playing from the old speaker tucked under the counter filling the atmosphere.
I lean back against Noah, who wraps his arms around me from behind, his fingers teasing along the hem of my dress.
“You wore this just to mess with me,” he murmurs.
“I wore it because I couldn’t wear underwear.”
“Don’t remind me.”
I giggle, turning in his arms, kissing his jaw.
“We could close early.”
I laugh, breathless. “We’re not closing.”
“Then let’s celebrate after.”
“How?”
He grins, nose brushing mine. “Let me take you dancing.”
I blink. “It’s a weekday.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
The bell rings again and Grace walks in, braid loose over her shoulder, jeans dusted with soil. Her eyes light up when she sees me.
“There she is,” she says. “And look at you. Covered in flour and mate-scent.”
Noah turns, grinning. “Thanks for the flower tips. That stuff you said about sun placement actually helped.”
“You didn’t kill them?”
“Not yet.”
Grace hugs me tight, swaying us gently. “How are you doing?”
“I’m amazing,” I say, and I mean it.
I send Noah to check the oven while Grace pulls me outside for some air. We sit on the bench just to the side of the front steps, watching bees drift between the garden beds in the late afternoon shade.
“You smell like three different Alphas,” she says, not judging, just amused.
“Is it that obvious?”
“To us? Yeah.”
“I’m losing my mind, Grace. Can I confess something to you?”
“We are practically besties now. Please do.”
“I want them constantly. It’s like my heat never ended. I can’t focus. I wake up aching.”
