Page 44 of Knot Baked Out For This
"You're impossible."
"You're persistent."
"Pot, meet kettle."
We're standing too close now, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his green eye, the way his flannel is worn soft at the elbows, the faint scar on his jaw from what was probably a ranch accident.
Step back. You need to step back.
I don't step back.
"The flowers are beautiful," I admit, the words dragged out of me like a confession. "Unnecessary and showy and probably going to start rumors that'll follow me to my grave, but... beautiful."
His smile could power small cities. "So you'll keep them?"
"I'll tolerate them. Temporarily. Until they die. Which they will, because everything does."
"Cheerful."
"Realistic."
"Hazel—"
Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a crash from the front.
We both rush out to find Muffin has knocked over the flower vase, water spreading across the counter in a small flood. Reverie's trying to save the register while customers scramble back from the splash zone.
"Your cat's a menace," Levi observes.
"She learned from the best," I reply, grabbing towels.
We clean up together, him gathering scattered flowers while I mop up water and Reverie provides entirely unhelpful commentary about "romantic flower disasters" and "meet-cutes gone wrong."
As we're finishing, Levi reaches for the same towel I'm reaching for. Our hands collide, tangle, and somehow I end up with his fingers wrapped around mine, the towel forgotten between us.
His hands are warm, callused from ranch work, gentle despite their strength. My skin lights up at the contact, every nerve ending suddenly very aware that I'm touching an Alpha, that he's touching me back, that we're holding hands in the middle of my bakery like teenagers.
Let go. Let go right now.
I don't let go.
Neither does he.
"Hazel," he says softly, and my name in his mouth sounds like a promise or a prayer or possibly both.
"This is a terrible idea," I tell him.
"The worst," he agrees.
"You're going to complicate everything."
"Probably."
"I don't date Alphas anymore."
"I'm not asking for a date."
I raise an eyebrow. "Then what are you asking for?"
