Page 15 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
“Got it.”
He moves toward the door, then pauses.
“I’m not far,” he says. “Anytime.”
Then he’s gone, the door clicking softly behind him.
I stand in the quiet, his number in one hand, a warm spot blooming in my chest.
Maybe not everything has to be done alone.
Maybe some recipes taste better shared.
Chapter eight
Theo
The old farmhouse smells like cedarwood, strong coffee, and the faint bite of wood smoke clinging to the stone fireplace. Sunlight slants across the floorboards in streaks of amber and dust, cutting through the gentle hush of late afternoon. I lean back on the worn leather couch, a book balanced on my chest, unread.
I’ve been staring at the same page for twenty minutes. It’s a good book, by Starling Grove’s new favorite author, Lila Quinn. But I can’t focus, no matter how hard I try.
Jamie’s in the kitchen, humming. Not just humming, though. It’s cheerful. Bubbly. He even snapped his fingers earlier. I almost asked him if he was possessed. Jamie’s been like this for almost two weeks—ever since he signed the lease with the mystery tenant. Floaty. Light. A golden retriever with a secret.
Jamie reappears, sauntering into the living room with a bowl of popcorn like he’s starring in his own home renovation commercial. “Popcorn?”
“Are you high?” I ask flatly.
“Nope,” Jamie chirps, his grin bright. “Just happy.”
“That’s worse,” I mutter, flipping a page I haven’t read.
Jamie plops down beside me on the couch, resting the bowl on his knees. “Her name’s Cam. She’s an omega. Starting a candy shop.”
I glance up at that. “I know that already. I reviewed the lease, remember?” I give up trying to read. “I’m surprised Dane didn’t scare her off. You sure she’s still in the building?”
Jamie’s face goes smug. “Of course she is.”
“She’s not even slightly intimidated?”
Jamie shakes his head. “Not even when Dane here turned up all gruff and territorial.”
Dane turns the corner from wherever he was lurking and huffs. “I wasn’t gruff. I was professional.”
“You probably stood in the doorway and scowled for ten straight minutes.”
“She’s still there,” Dane mutters under his breath. “That means something.”
“Means she’s got grit,” Jamie says.
“And she smells like cinnamon and trouble,” Dane adds, grudgingly.
Jamie’s smile goes dreamy. “Best combo.”
I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, letting their banter wash over me while my mind pulls up the past like it never left.
“Camellia Vale,” I say quietly. “I remember her.”
Jamie glances over, interested. “You do?”
