Page 18 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
I let out a soft laugh. “Thanks... I think.”
He steadies the top panel while I secure the bolts. Our hands brush once. I pretend not to notice. But my heart stumbles.
Get a grip, Cam.
He’s just an alpha. A very attractive, capable, infuriatingly calm alpha. Who smells way too good and looks way too serious about measuring shelf brackets.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask, trying to distract myself.
“Grew up here. Left for a while. Came back when Jamie and Dane wanted to invest in properties.”
I nod. “Do you like it?”
He considers this longer than I expect. “Some days.”
I glance at him. There’s something weighty behind the simplicity of the words. Like he’s wrestling with more than he lets on. But he doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask.
“So,” I say after a beat, “is this shelf going to collapse the first time someone leans on it, or...?”
“It’ll outlive us both,” he says, deadpan.
I huff a laugh, then frown at the bolt in my hand. “Good. Because some days, I feel like this whole shop might collapse under me.”
Theo pauses, turning to look at me. His gaze doesn’t waver.
“This whole shop,” I continue, quieter now, “was a dream Zae and I had. I thought opening it would feel like I was reclaiming something. But some days it feels like I bit off way too much. Like I’m just pretending.”
“You’re not,” he says, voice low. Sure.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t need to.” He sets a bracket in place and finally meets my gaze. “I can see the work you’re putting in.”
I swallow against the knot forming in my throat. His eyes are steady. There’s no pity there, just quiet recognition. Like maybe he knows what it’s like to try and rebuild something from broken pieces.
We finish tightening the bolts. The shelf is up. Level. Solid.
I step back, brushing my hands on my jeans, then steal a glance at Theo.
“Thanks,” I say.
He gives me a short nod. “Anytime.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, I add, “I might need help again. With the displays, maybe. Or signage.”
“Just say when.”
There’s another beat of silence between us. It’s... comfortable. And a little dangerous. Because I can already feel the pull.
I remind myself—firmly—that I don’t have time for distractions. Especially not the broad-shouldered, broody alpha variety. I didn’t come here to find a pack. I came to build something of my own.
Theo steps toward the door, pausing as he reaches for the handle.
I think about what my gram said—how she hoped I’d come here and stay a while. How she sent me to this very building like she’d known all along it would matter to me.
Of course she did.
Theo doesn’t say anything else. Just offers a small nod before he slips out, the door clicking softly behind him.
