Page 30 of Knot Baked Out For This
This time.
Before I can process that, he turns back to the oven. "Found your problem. Heating element's shot, and the temperature regulator's hanging on by spite alone."
"Sounds about right."
"I can fix it temporarily, but you need a new oven, Hazel."
"I need a lot of things," I mutter. "Doesn't mean I can afford them."
He stands, unfolding to his full height, and I'm reminded again of howbighe is. How much space he takes up. How the kitchen feels smaller but somehow more complete with him in it.
"The charity event," he says suddenly. "We're looking for vendors. Paid vendors. Good money for a day's work."
There it is. The trap.
"Let me guess—you, the twins, the entire fire department, and whoever else wants to watch the divorced Omega perform?"
His jaw tightens. "It's not like that."
"It's always like that."
"Hazel—"
"I'll think about it," I say, which we both know means no.
He studies me for a long moment, those amber eyes seeing too much. Then he nods, picks up his henley from where he'd draped it over a chair.
"Oven should hold for a few more days," he says. "Try not to assault any other Alphas with kitchen equipment in the meantime."
"No promises."
He heads for the door, pauses at the threshold. The afternoon light makes him look like something out of a fantasy novel—all golden edges and impossible shoulders.
"Your ex was an idiot," he says suddenly, quietly. "For what it's worth."
Then he's gone, leaving only cedar smoke and the lingering warmth of fixed ovens and complicated history.
I stand in my kitchen, surrounded by flour and the ghost of his presence, and try not to think about how he saidthis time.
Try not to think about how my traitorous body had catalogued every point of contact when I'd fallen on him—the heat of his skin through cotton, the solid strength of his shoulders, the way he'd stayed perfectly still like he was afraid of spooking me.
My oven purrs contentedly for the first time in weeks.
Traitor. Everything in this place is a traitor.
Outside, workers continue setting up for the charity event. The banner flaps in the October wind like a flag of surrender.
Or maybe a battle standard.
With Alphas, it's hard to tell the difference.
CHAPTER 5
Milk, Cinnamon, And Terrible Decisions
~HAZEL~
Nothing good ever comes from having multiple Alphas in your kitchen. It's like inviting sharks to a blood drive.
