Page 102 of Knot What She Seems
“Get the hell over here and smell these so we can make Brylee a bouquet.” Ridge assumes his typical commander role, and the order helps me snap out of the panicked daze I was falling into.
The four of us approach the mountain of flowers with trepidation. It feels akin to the time we walked into a room and saw a live grenade on the ground. Then, protocol was easy. Tonight, it’s not.
“She needs the navy tulips. They complement her scent,” Colter insists.
How would he know? Has he even gotten close enough to smell her?
“But those look awful with these purple things,” Kylian growls, becoming insistent. “I want these purple ones in there. I know she’ll like them because she had purple accents in her room.”
“Scent is more important than color.” Colter moves to extract Kylian’s flower choice from our cobbled-together bouquet, and the other alpha stops him. Instantly, they’re in one another’s faces, and it looks like they might come to blows.
“STOP!” Ridge orders, vein in his forehead bulging in frustration. “We each get to pick one. That’s it. The clock is ticking and Luka needs to get out of here.” He wrenches the stems from Colter’s hand and tries his hand at arranging their contrasting flowers with his own star lilies.
When he hands the bouquet to me, I’m instantly awash in a confusing cloud of floral tones.
This could backfire, so badly,I think, as I add jasmine as my contribution. This entire thing might be a punch to the nose with the contrasting flower scents, plus our own mixed in since we all handled the flowers.
Online, matchmaking experts said intent matters. Effort matters. Hopefully, Brylee appreciates the effort because heaven knows we don’t know a thing about plants.
By the time I’m headed out the door with a massive collection of flowers in hand, I want to throw the damn bouquet and run for cover.
But I won’t.
As I drive, I listen to a podcast on wooing a scent match as I reassure myself.I’ve researched. I’ve prepared.
I even practiced lines in the shower so the others couldn’t hear me.
I’m going to woo the panties off our omega tonight.
I have to.
36
BRYLEE
“Where is he taking you?Ohmygawd, this is so romantic I could die.” Harper throws herself dramatically on my bed, her pin-straight brown hair cascading around her. “This is like one of those forbidden romances I love to read. The sexy professor and the rebellious student…”
I slap at her foot, forcing it to the ground, and sit in the now vacated space to put on a pair of pumps. They look amazing with the pretty red dress Harper let me borrow.
“For starters, Luka isn’tmyprofessor. He’s Teddie’s,” I tell her as I put my final shoe on, then straighten. “And secondly, this isn’t truly a date. This is just an alpha and omega, going out for dinner.”
Harper blinks at me. “Yes. Like a date.”
“Not a date,” I insist firmly as I finally rise from the bed. I make a beeline toward the full-body mirror hanging on my door and twist back and forth, studying myself.
My blonde hair—that Harper spent hours curling—falls in perfect waves across my shoulders, and the red dress feels like it’s hugging me too tightly, as though it’s holding my nerves in place. I spent hours getting ready—choosing the right outfit, applying makeup carefully, adjusting every little detail until it all felt just right. But now, looking at myself, I can’t help but feel exposed. The dress, the makeup, the perfect look… It’s all so much, and yet it feels like a shield I’m wearing to hide what’s beneath.
I’ve been hurt before, and that fear, that doubt, lingers like a malignant tumor in the back of my mind. What if tonight is just another reminder of how easily trust can be broken? How easily hearts can be shattered? What if I’m not enough?
I take a slow breath, trying to steady myself. My fingers hover over my dress in an attempt to smooth out imaginary wrinkles. I want this to go well, despite everything I said to Harper. I want to feel something different tonight, something positive, but the weight of what I’ve been through holds me down, threatening to suffocate me.
Harper materializes behind me in the mirror and places her hands on my shoulders.
“Breathe, Brylee,” she says gently. “Just breathe.”
I do so, sucking in a lungful of scorching air. The black specks freckling the edges of my vision dissipate. I’m grateful I managed to stop myself before I spiraled into a full-blown panic attack. That’s the last thing I need tonight.
I shoot Harper a grateful smile before stepping away from the mirror and grabbing my clutch.
