Page 43 of Knot Your Sugar

"You mean lazy," I tease, but I’m smiling as I settle down beside him, the sun warm on my face. The air is alive with the happy hum of bees working the nearby wildflowers. It’s… nice. Peaceful. Almost… normal. If you ignore the fact that I’m foraging with my fake alpha boyfriend, while my alpha-next-door situationship is probably doing safety rounds at the festival, and my pre-festival fling is somewhere getting his palate ready for a tasting.

"This is really relaxing," I admit, absently plucking berries as I shift into a crouch. "When's the last time you just... walked in the woods?"

"Honestly? Probably those summers with Grandma. City life doesn't leave much room for hikes."

As if summoned by our moment of peace, I hear the whine of a mosquito near my ear. James hears it too. He doesn't say 'I told you so', but his lips curve into a supremely smug smirk as he wordlessly fumbles in his bag and hands me his bug spray.

"Not. One. Word." I warn, snatching the can.

"Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar." But I have a feeling he's filing this ammunition away for future use.

We continue exploring, our bags growing heavier with foraged treasures: blackberries, blueberries, a handful of tart wild raspberries, fragrant mint, delicate elderflowers, and sweet wild strawberries. The sun climbs higher, warming the forest floor, releasing the rich, loamy scent of wild herbs and damp earth. My arms are starting to ache, and my fingers are stained a fetching shade of purplish.

"Think this is enough?" I ask, hefting my bag, which feels like it weighs a ton.

"Depends," James says, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Are you planning to feed the entire festival, or just knock one judge's socks clean off?"

"Aiming for sock displacement, definitely."

"Well, either way, we need one more crucial thing." He grins, then leads me to a bramble where wild roses bloom just a few feet away. "Rose petals. A few artfully scattered ones will elevate whatever you make to unforgettable."

As we carefully gather the fragrant petals, James suddenly grows uncharacteristically quiet. His hands keep moving, but his usual easy comments are gone, replaced by a thoughtful stillness. I glance over, sensing something shifting in the air between us. He's focused, almost too focused, like he's turning something over in his mind.

"You know," he says finally, "I owe you an apology."

"For the bug spray smugness? Because I must admit it may have been justified."

"No, that was completely warranted." He cracks a small grin, then sobers again, his gaze still fixed on the roses. "For… for being a bit of a jerk when we first met. The whole overly competitive alpha act. And aggressively asking you out like that…"

"You mean practically strong-arming me into dating?" I cut in, raising an eyebrow, but keeping my tone light, playful.

He winces slightly. "That wasn’t… that wasn’t cool. My approach was all wrong. I should have just… asked you out. Like a normal human being. I definitely took things too far." He finally looks at me, his blue eyes surprisingly earnest. "I’m sorry, Elena."

I’m quiet for a moment, surprised by his sincerity, by the genuine contrition in his voice.

He runs a hand through his tousled hair. "I know we spoke about this yesterday… but I want you to know I reallywaslistening. Not just nodding so we could get to the good stuff." A small, sincere smile tugs at his lips. "Obviously we need to keep up the whole 'dating' act in public until the festival blows over, but…" He hesitates. "Just so you hear it from my lips: there’s no pressure beyond that. And we don’t have to be all… touchy-feely in public. Or in private, of course." He pauses, his gaze searching mine. "Unless that’s something you want."

"Apology accepted, James," I say, and I mean it. His willingness to admit he was an ass, it means a lot. "And honestly? This whole crazy arrangement? It’s been… surprisingly not terrible. We’ve had some fun today… and yesterday. Haven’t we? And I’m feeling a lot more clear-headed too. Thanks in part to your pretty unorthodox help."

A spark of mischief is back in James’s eyes. "Is that so?"

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that plays on my lips. "The pointis, you were right. This… whatever it is… I think it's working. For now. And don't you worry, I don’t feel obligated to be physical with you just because you’re my get-out-of-disqualification-free card." I pause, taking a deep breath. "And just so I'm crystal clear too… I enjoy the touchy-feely stuff. In private. Depending on the mood."

His expression shifts, the teasing glint softening into something more genuine. "You've no idea how I like the sound of that, Elena."

"But don't let it go to your head."

"Too late."

* * *

Back at the festival grounds, our bags are full of foraged treasures.

"So," James says, heading to a different station, "what culinary masterpiece are you planning to conjure with all this woodland bounty?"

"That," I reply, tapping the side of my temple with a juice-stained finger, "would be telling. Trade secrets, you know."

"Fine, be all mysterious and alluring." He grins. "Just remember who guided you to the patch of enchanted rose petals when you get on the theoretical podium today."

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