Page 52 of Knotted By my Pack
16
NOAH
Idrive through the night with the windows cracked just to stay awake. Driftwood Cove is just beginning to stir when I pull into town, exhaustion clinging to the back of my throat.
My arms ache from gripping the wheel too long, eyes heavy from the working fourteen hours nonstop, but none of that mattered.
She’d missed me. And I’d missed her. More than sleep. More than the pain in my shoulders or the endless grind of work. More than anything.
I had to rush through work just to come home to her.
Soft jazz plays from the back as I step into the bakery, the kind she says calms her when the oven’s on and the morning rush looms.
Sunlight filters through the windows, dusting her in gold, and there she is.
Cora stands behind the counter, a mug in one hand and a rag in the other, wiping something down.
Her red hair is twisted into a messy bun, strands curling free around her cheeks and neck. She’s in a soft, oversized tee that slides off one shoulder, hugging her hips in a way that makes me pause mid-step.
Her leggings cling to her like they were made for her body, every curve imprinted into my memory and still hitting me like a punch to the chest.
Her head lifts. Those eyes lock on mine. The rag drops, and before I can say a word, she’s racing across the room.
She crashes into me, arms tight around my neck, her whole body flush against mine. My arms close around her instinctively.
Her scent hits me with full force, warm and sweet and so her that my chest tightens.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur, the word slipping out without thought, rumbling against the top of her head. Her fingers clutch the back of my jacket, and I don’t want to let go.
She leans back just enough to look up. “How are you here so early?”
“I finished the job overnight. Drove straight here.”
Before she can say anything else, the bell above the door jingles. My eyes flick over, and I freeze.
Elias walks in, looking like he didn’t expect company. His eyes land on Cora first, then me. I offer a nod.
“Hey.”
The tension is immediate. It clings to the air like humidity before a storm. He doesn’t say hi back. Instead, his gaze darts to her.
“Can we talk?”
She doesn’t move, arms still looped around me. “I’m already talking to Noah,” she replies. “But you can go look at the car if you want.”
He lingers, jaw working like he wants to argue, then nods once and heads back out the door.
I watch him through the window, pretending like I’m not dying to ask. But I know better.
“What happened to your car?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
Cora doesn’t meet my eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, stepping out of my arms and heading toward the counter. “Sit. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”
I do as she says, sliding into a stool. My eyes follow every move she makes. Her hips sway naturally, her hands moving through the routine like muscle memory.
She grabs mugs, pours milk, tosses in cocoa and a pinch of sea salt. Every small act familiar.
Domestic.
