Page 50 of Knot on the Market

"Cinnamon rolls from Maeve's bakery," Julian confirms. "Still warm."

Dean's face lights up like Christmas morning. "Dude, you're my new favorite person."

"I was your favorite person yesterday when I helped you carry furniture," I point out, trying to inject some lightness into the sudden tension building in my small kitchen.

"You guys are both awesome," Dean says easily, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

The simple comment shouldn't make my pulse flutter, but the way he says it—like having multiple favorite people is the most natural thing in the world sends warmth spreading through me in ways I'm not ready to analyze.

This is getting out of hand,I think as Dean dries his hands and his scent mingles with Julian's in the enclosed space.I came here to be independent, not to collect alphas like some kind of omega cliché.

Callum appears in the doorway as Dean's finishing up, taking in the scene with those steady hazel eyes that seem to document everything without judgment. His presence immediately changes the dynamic in the room, not because he dominates the space, but because he grounds it, makes everything feel more solid and secure. There's sawdust caught in his dark hair and his work shirt clings to his broad chest in ways that make my mouth go dry.

"Julian," he says with a nod, then his gaze lands on me. "Sorry for the dust."

His voice is rougher than usual, probably from working in the heat, and the gravelly tone sends an unexpected shiver down my spine.

"I don't mind," I say, and mean it. There's something deeply satisfying about having evidence of their work in my space, proof that things are being built and fixed and made better.

Now all three of them are in my kitchen. Dean at the table, Julian leaning against the counter with that watchful stillness that makes me hyperaware of every breath I take, and Callum filling the doorway with quiet competence that somehow makes the space feel both smaller and safer.

Their combined presence should feel overwhelming in a space this small, but instead it feels...right. Like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.

Oh no,I think with dawning realization.This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. This feeling like they all belong here.

Their scents begin to mingle in the enclosed space. Dean's warm marshmallow and amber, Callum's cedar and sawdust, Julian's sophisticated blend of black tea and bergamot. The combination creates something new and complex that wraps around me like a physical embrace, making my skin feel too warm and my breathing slightly unsteady.

I can feel my body responding to their proximity in ways I can't control. A flush spreading across my chest, a subtle dampness between my thighs that makes me shift uncomfortably.

A low hum begins building in my belly, not urgent heat, but something warmer and more insistent than simple attraction. My omega instincts have developed very specific opinions about my current situation, and those opinions are becoming harder to ignore.

"So," Dean says, apparently oblivious to my growing distraction, "what's the plan for these cinnamon rolls? Are we talking civilized snack or complete feeding frenzy?"

"A complete feeding frenzy would be most appropriate," Julian says without hesitation, and there's the hint of dry humor in his precise delivery.

"I like this guy," Dean grins, gesturing at Julian with obvious approval.

Callum moves further into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and suddenly the space feels impossibly small. Every direction I turn, there's another alpha. Broad shoulders and competent hands and scents that make my head spin with want I'm not supposed to be feeling.

Dean leans past me to grab plates from the cabinet, his chest brushing against my shoulder for just a moment. The brief contact sends electricity through me, and I have to bite back the small sound that wants to escape. His scent intensifies with the movement, warm and inviting, and I catch myself leaning slightly into the contact before I remember to step back.

You're supposed to be independent,I remind myself desperately.Stop melting every time one of them gets close.

"You okay?" Callum asks, his deep voice rumbling with what might be concern. Those steady hazel eyes take in myflushed cheeks, the way my knuckles have gone white where I'm clutching the counter. "You look flushed."

"Just the heat from the oven," I lie, though I haven't turned the oven on. "Kitchen gets warm."

Julian's gaze sharpens as he takes in my obvious distress. "Fresh air would be advisable," he suggests smoothly. "The afternoon is quite pleasant."

"Good call," Dean agrees, already loading plates with cinnamon rolls. "We can eat on the front steps, take a break from all the hammering."

They file out of the kitchen with easy efficiency, leaving me alone for a moment to collect myself. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing pulse and ignore the very noticeable slick between my thighs that suggests my body has opinions about three attractive alphas in my space that my brain hasn't approved yet.

This is just normal attraction,I tell myself.Normal biological responses to appealing alphas who smell good and look even better.Nothing to worry about.

But as I follow them outside, carrying Julian's coffee and trying not to think about how their combined scents seem to have soaked into my clothes, I can't shake the feeling that something's shifting. Some internal barrier that's been keeping me safely distant is starting to crack, letting in possibilities I'm not sure I'm ready for.

The afternoon air helps clear my head slightly, but not enough to stop the way my gaze keeps drifting between them as they arrange themselves on my front steps. Dean sprawled comfortably with his long legs stretched out, Julian sitting with precise posture that somehow manages to look both elegant and relaxed, Callum leaning back against the porch railing with easy confidence.

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