Page 34 of Knot Your Sugar

"Yes?" I manage, hoping my voice sounds more composed than I feel.

"Mr. Beaumont asked me to remind you about the pub night tonight at the Lake's Edge," he says, glancing at me in therearview mirror. "The venue has been reserved exclusively for festival contestants, with complimentary drinks provided by Beaumont Patisserie."

I perk up immediately. "Oh, I love that place!" The Lake's Edge is the coziest spot in town, right on the waterfront with the best selection of artisanal beers. The invitation is tempting, but I'm not sure how much more perfection my nervous system can handle today. Between the win, the spa, and James's… skills… I'm operating on sensory overload.

"Would you like me to take you directly there, miss?" the driver asks.

"No, home first, please," I reply automatically.Uh, guess my brain'd already RSVP’d yes to the invite."I need to change."

"Of course."

The car winds through Main Street, its street lamps glowing like candles in the night. As I start to wonder who else will be there, my phone buzzes. It's James.

See you at the pub? (If you've recovered from our grand finale, of course…)

I grin, typing back.

Only if you promise not to mention my snoring.

His response is immediate:

Your secret's safe with me, sugar. Don't keep me waiting too long.

I smile as I lock my phone, before wondering if a certain judge and fire safety officer will also be there.

The thought of seeing all three alphas in the same confined space makes my stomach do a complicated gymnastics routine. But the rational part of my brain, bolstered by an increased intake of DuoBlocks and a healthy dose of post-orgasmic confidence, asserts that it's fine. Today, I'm in control. I experiment, on my own terms.

The car glides to a stop. And, as I enter my apartment building, I realize I'm actually excited. The day started with tension and ended with… well, release. If tonight follows a similar trajectory, I don't see how anything could possibly go wrong.

Chapter eighteen

Elena

Amber lights envelop me as I push through the heavy wooden door of The Lake's Edge. The pub buzzes with laughter, clinking pints, and the energy of bakers blowing off steam. Despite the long day, the vibrant atmosphere hits me like a shot of espresso, giving me that second wind I needed.

In the far corner, an eruption of laughter draws my attention. James, Dorian,andCole sit clustered around a table, shoulders shaking with mirth as the three of them are in stitches.

I blink hard. Cole is laughing. Not just a chuckle; a full, genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders and reveals a dimple I never would've guessed was hiding beneath all that calm restraint.

I begin weaving through the cheerful crowd, drawn toward their table like a moth to a flame. As I get closer, I catchthe tail end of James's animated storytelling—along with an enticing blend of their mingled scents, definitely softened by the DuoBlocks but still enough to make my pulse tick up. Thank goodness I doubled up.

"—completely covered the food critic fromBon Appétit," James is saying, gesturing dramatically. "Head to toe in passionfruit curd. It was a massacre."

"And what exactly did you do?" Cole asks, wiping an actual tear from the corner of his eye. His laughter has a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates pleasantly.

"The only thing I could do," James replies. "I offered him a spoon."

Another wave of laughter washes over the table. Dorian notices me then, his gray eyes bright.

"Ms. Avery," he calls out, gesturing to the empty chair nestled between him and Cole. "Come, join the fray. James is sharing his greatest culinary disasters."

"So glad I didn’t miss the highlight reel. And please, call me Elena," I add, as if his hands weren’t all over me just yesterday, sliding into the seat. Being sandwiched between Dorian and Cole is… an experience. On one side, Dorian's sophisticated energy hums with an underlying heat I know all too well. On the other, Cole exudes an earthy, steady presence, a quiet strength that feels both protective and intriguing. My senses feel like they're doing a very confused but enthusiastic tango. "And I didn't realize firefighters were allowed to laugh, Cole," I tease, turning to him.

"Only on alternate Thursdays," Cole shoots back, his eyes crinkling. That dimple reappears. Lethal. "And apparently when hearing tales of pastry misfortune."

"And I was about to ask James more about the spa," Dorian jumps in, his eyes taking on a mischievous glint. "He's been telling us all about how relaxing it was."

My cheeks instantly flame. "Oh. That's... nice."

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