Page 32 of Knot Baked Out For This
"Why would I be nervous?" I snap, hyper-aware that Luca's still watching through the window. "It's just Tuesday. Random Alpha invasion Tuesday. Totally normal."
"We do travel in packs," Levi says, amused. "It's more efficient for terrorizing unsuspecting Omegas."
"I'm not unsuspecting. I'm suspicious as hell."
"Good instinct?—"
The bell explodes open, and chaos incarnate arrives in the form of Reverie Bell.
"Holy mother of hormones!"
My best friend bursts through the door like a blonde hurricane, curls bouncing with enough energy to power the eastern seaboard. Her eyes are comedy-wide, and she's fanning herself with both hands in a gesture that belongs in a Victorian drama about the vapors.
"Sothat'sthe firefighter who looks like sin dipped in muscles and rolled in 'daddy issues,'" she stage-whispers.
Except it's not a whisper. It's not even close to a whisper. It's practically a megaphone announcement to all of Main Street.
Rowan freezes mid-wrench-turn. I can see the tips of his ears go red from where he's still pretzel-ed under my oven.
Levi chokes on what might be a laugh or his own spit.
I want to spontaneously combust. Just burst into flames right here and let them explainthatto the insurance company.
"Reverie," I hiss, but she's already swept into the kitchen like she owns it, which honestly, she might as well.
"Don't mind me," she trills, dropping her purse on my clean counter with zero regard for the laws of hygiene or my sanity. "I'm just here to witness—Oh. Oh, there'stwoof them."
She's spotted Levi, who's watching her like she's a particularly interesting species of exotic bird. One that might explode.
"Three, actually," Levi supplies helpfully, pointing toward the window. "Luca's on guard duty."
Reverie whips around so fast her curls create their own weather system. "Where—Oh sweet baby Jesus in a basket." She presses a hand to her chest. "They make themlike thatnow? Is there a factory? Can I place an order?"
"We're naturally occurring," Levi says, and his grin has gone from friendly to something sharper. "No assembly required."
"Some assembly definitely required," Rowan mutters from under the oven, finally emerging with a grunt. There's a streak of grease across his cheek that absolutely doesn't make him look rugged and capable. "Your heating element's shot, Hazel, but I've jerry-rigged something that should hold?—"
He stands as he talks, turning to face me fully, and his hand moves to gesture at the oven. I step back to give him space, he steps forward to show me something, and?—
Contact.
His fingers brush my bare forearm. Just a whisper of skin on skin, callouses catching on the soft inner part where I'm most sensitive, where my ex used to?—
No.
The reaction is immediate and catastrophic.
Heat floods my system like someone mainlined sunshine directly into my veins. Every nerve ending lights up in technicolor, my temperature spikes, and my scent—fuck, my scent—explodes through the bakery like a pheromone bomb.
Vanilla cream and cinnamon smoke, but underneath, that honeyed note that screamsinterested, available, choose mefloods the space until it's thick enough to taste.
No, no, no, NO?—
Rowan freezes mid-sentence, his pupils dilating so fast I can watch the gold get swallowed by black. His own scent doubles,trebles—cedar smoke and bourbon vanilla crashing through the air like a possession.
Levi's easy smile falters, falls, reshapes into something hungrier. His honey-butter warmth goes sharp, edged with clove and want.
Outside, through the window, Luca's head tilts. Even from here, I can see his nostrils flare.
