Page 79 of Knot Baked Out For This
I look at him, really look. Past the golden boy exterior to the fear underneath. He's terrified—not of losing Hazel, but of losing us. The partnership we've built, the life we've created from the ashes of our parents' death.
"Brothers first," I promise. "Always."
He nods, tension releasing from his shoulders. Then his grin returns, sharp and competitive.
"But I'm still going to court the fuck out of her."
"Get in line."
"Make me."
"Later. After I buy candles like some kind of Pinterest-addicted suburban mom."
"The fact that you know what Pinterest is concerns me."
"The fact that you don't understand market research concerns me more."
I leave him laughing, which feels like victory even if nothing's really resolved.
The drive to Araminta Vale's is peaceful, October painting the countryside in dying colors. I use the time to think, to plan, to talk myself out of this three times before committing again.
The shop is exactly what I expected—crystals and herbs and things that smell like feelings. The owner, a tiny Beta woman with silver hair, takes one look at me and laughs.
"Alpha, shopping for an omega, scared out of your mind. Third one today."
"Third?"
"Apparently there's some video going around. You're all panic-shopping." She winks. "Don't worry, I'll help you not fuck it up."
She leads me through the shop, explaining different scents, their properties, what works for anxious omegas versus contented ones. I learn more about omegas in twenty minutes than I did in years of biology classes.
"This one," she says finally, presenting a set of three candles. "Lavender base for calm, vanilla bean for comfort, and just a hint of cedar to remind her of Alpha presence without overwhelming. Not claiming, just... present."
"Cedar," I repeat, thinking of Rowan.
"Is that a problem?"
"No. It's perfect."
She'll smell the cedar and think of him. But maybe that's okay. Maybe that's what she needs—all of us, even when we're not there.
I buy the candles, plus some tea that's supposed to help with anxiety, and a soap that just smells nice because I'm already here and apparently I've lost my mind.
The drive to Hazel's bakery is shorter than I want it to be. I need more time to figure out what to say, how to explain that I'm falling for her without sending her running. That I want to protect her but not cage her. That I think about her so much it's affecting my spreadsheets.
The bakery is closed when I arrive, but I can see light from the kitchen. She's still there, probably baking tomorrow's inventory, probably covered in flour and exhausted and beautiful.
I knock on the back door—the one I fixed, which now opens smooth and silent.
"We're closed—" She stops when she sees me, eyes widening slightly. "Luca."
"Hi."
Smooth. Excellent start. Really showing that superior intelligence.
"Is everything okay?" She's wearing an apron covered in what looks like chocolate, hair piled on her head with a pencil holding it in place. There's flour on her nose.
"Fine. Yes. I just—" I hold up the bag. "Candles."
