Page 136 of Knot Baked Out For This
"Boss, stop texting your boyfriends and help me!" Mila calls from the kitchen. "This dough is fighting back!"
"Dough doesn't fight!"
"This dough has opinions!"
I pocket my phone and wade into the kitchen battle, where Mila is indeed wrestling with sourdough that's apparently achieved sentience.
"You overworked it," I diagnose, taking over. "It's gone tough."
"Like my ex's heart."
"Darker than your coffee, Mila."
"My coffee is the void, so probably accurate."
We're laughing when the bell chimes, and Reverie—who's developed a sixth sense for Important Visitors—immediately perks up like a meerkat sensing drama.
"Professional alert," she hisses. "Twelve o'clock. Power suit. Definitely not here for cookies."
The woman who enters looks like she stepped out of a magazine about successful people who have their lives together. Charcoal gray suit that probably costs more than my monthly rent, heels that could kill a man, blonde hair in one of those buns that looks effortless but probably took forty-five minutes.
"I'm looking for Hazel Holloway?" Her voice is professional, warm—the kind that makes you feel special while maintaining distance.
"That's me," I say, wiping flour from my hands, probably just spreading it around. "Can I help you?"
She extends a business card with manicured fingers. "Sabrina Cross, Ethereal Agency. I represent clothing brands looking for authentic models."
Models. She said models. Like I'm model material and not a flour-covered disaster in yesterday's jeans.
"I think there's been a mistake?—"
"No mistake." She pulls out her phone, shows me a photo. It's me from the Vintage Honey shop, laughing in that burgundy dress while Levi makes bunny ears behind my head. "This went viral on our scouting network. The genuine joy, the natural beauty, the way the clothes move with you—exactly what our client wants."
"Your client?"
"Midnight & Moon, the clothing brand. They have a limited Halloween collection launching this weekend. The shoot is last-minute—this Saturday—but you'd be compensated, plus tickets to the festival that evening for you and your pack, food vouchers, and a shopping spree for Halloween costumes."
This is insane. This is completely insane. I bake cookies. I don't model.
Reverie is behind the agent, making frantic hand signals that either mean "take the job" or "I'm having a stroke."
"I—Can I ask my Alphas first?" The words tumble out, nervous and probably wrong, but?—
"Of course!" Sabrina smiles. "It's wonderful that you communicate with your pack. Take your time."
I fumble for my phone, dial Rowan because he's the steadiest, least likely to get overexcited and agree to anything involving costumes.
"Hey sunshine," he answers on the second ring, and his voice through the phone makes my stomach flutter. "Everything okay?"
"There's a modeling agent here. She wants me to do a photoshoot. This weekend. For Halloween clothes. Is that…should I…is it a good idea?"
There's a pause, then…
"Do you want to do it?"
"I don't know? Maybe? It's scary but also kind of exciting…?”
"Then, why are you questioning?” his voice suddenly sounds like it’s echoing from the speaker and behind me. “Of course you should do it."
