Page 70 of Knot That Serious

He stabbed the eggs harder than necessary, and ground the mush between his molars.

And, well. That was the problem, wasn’t it?

Jack’s alarm went off, and he instinctively silenced it, groaning as he rolled over.

How does Eli do this? he wondered.

He wasn’t even up nearly as early as she usually was—three a.m. was ridiculous, and five wasn’t much better—and still, he hated that the sun wasn’t even up to greet him.

Beckett chuckled, voice still scratchy with sleep. “Poor Jacky, gotta get up and go to work while I get to lounge around with Eli. Will you survive the injustice?”

“No, and I’ll have all day to plot my revenge. Just wait.”

“If my dick didn’t still hurt, I’d come up with an innuendo. Pretend it’s really filthy,” Beckett murmured, rubbing his face into the pillow and mussing his hair into even more of a disaster.

Jack’s heart squeezed with affection.

His thoughts were half-interested in this revenge, but he grumbled and knew the inevitable still waited. He grabbed the hand around his waist and pulled it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of Beckett’s hand.

With his extra strength gathered, he pushed himself from the warmth of the bed.

The awesome part about owning his own business was that he didn’t have to follow a dress code. Even though Eli encouraged him to dress in a black shirt, it wasn’t, like, a rule.

Still, he dug one out of his closet and pulled it on, searching blindly for a pair of jeans before leaving Beckett—already snoring softly again—and leaving the room for the bathroom across the hall.

He did his hygiene, stuffed his feet into his boots, resisted the urge to check in on Eli, and left the apartment quietly.

He chose to walk, because it was cool and still quiet at this hour, and breathed in the fresh morning air. Sure, he would’ve preferred to be cuddled up with Beckett—or Eli, his mind supplied—but he would make the best of this.

He’d handle the bakery so well in Eli’s absence. She’d be fucking proud.

Jack spied the bakery, and his steps quickened in excitement, already imagining the look on her face when he got to tell Eli how he fucking nailed it.

The lights were all turned on, shining out of the windows to cast a soft glow along the sidewalk. Caroline must be inside, getting an early start.

They should give her a raise.

He let himself in with the key, the bell announcing his arrival. “It’s just me, Jack,” he called out. The scent of freshly baked goods flooded the place, and he inhaled deeply, already making his way to the counter flap. “Caroline, I’ve gotta say, we really appreciate everything—oh.” Jack paused in the doorway of the kitchen.

Instead of Caroline’s high, blond ponytail, the person pulling a fresh batch of eclairs out of the oven was… Eli.

14. Watch Your Step

Eli

Eli balanced the baking sheet carefully as she moved the eclairs to the cooling rack.

“You’re not Caroline,” Jack said.

Eli barely acknowledged him. “Nice observation skills.” Her tone was sharper than necessary, even after she’d told herself she could play nice.

“Good morning,” he tried again.

“Morning,” she answered, trying to keep her voice light.

Jack’s gaze was keen, and it lingered for a long moment. Eli did her best to avoid meeting his eyes, knowing this was going to turn into something. Like that electric current in the air before a storm.

But Jack had nothing to find just from staring at her. Eli was totally normal. She was dressed in a stained pair of leggings and one of the bakery’s shirts in a large enough size to drape her frame. Her leather jacket was on a hook by the back door, so he’d know she’d brought her bike.

---