Page 59 of The Knotheads Next Door
I should listen to him. Should back off, create distance, let whatever's building between me and Rowan—between all of us and Rowan—fade naturally as her trial month comes to an end.
But I think of her in my arms this morning, of the way she melted against me, of the rightness I felt holding her. Of the way her scent complements mine, complements all of ours, in a harmony that feels predestined.
And I know I'm already in too deep to pull back now, whatever the consequences might be.
Chapter 17
Wells
Wells
Ineed self-control to survive. It's not just a preference for me; it's a necessity. As the mayor's chief of staff in a town where everyone knows everyone's business, discipline is my armor. I don't make impulsive decisions. I don't act on emotion. I certainly don't let myself develop feelings for temporary housemates who are clearly already entangled with my two closest friends.
Which is why I've been avoiding Rowan for the past three days.
From my office window in Town Hall, I can see the town square transforming for the Harvest Festival. Workers put up white pavilion tents while volunteers string paper lanterns between the trees. The annual madness has begun—the first of four seasonal festivals that consume Vineyard Groves like a collective fever dream.
In previous years, I've found the preparations irritating but tolerable. This year, they're a welcome distraction from the increasingly complicated situation at home.
Jasper is brooding more than usual, spending most of his time in the garage or at job sites, coming home late and leaving early. Theo is doing that thing where he pretends everything is fine while radiating protective alpha energy every time Rowan enters a room. And Rowan...
Rowan is the eye of the hurricane, seemingly calm while chaos swirls around her. But I can sense the tension beneath her composure, the way her scent shifts and twists with conflicting emotions. The way it grows stronger, sweeter, more defined with each passing day.
Mayor Tillie knocks on my open door, breaking my reverie. "Still staring at spreadsheets? The festival opens tomorrow, Wells. Even you are allowed to enjoy it occasionally."
"I enjoy efficiency," I reply, turning away from the window. "And this budget won't balance itself."
She waves a dismissive hand. "Budgets can wait. I need you to check on the pavilion setup. Make sure they're following the layout we approved."
I know better than to argue when Tillie gets that look in her eye. "Of course."
"Excellent." She turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh, and see if you can find Rowan while you're at it. Lala mentioned she's helping with the flower arrangements today, but no one's seen her since lunch."
My stomach tightens at the mention of Rowan's name. "I'm sure she's fine."
"Of course she is," Tillie agrees with a knowing smile that makes me deeply uncomfortable.
"But check anyway. For my peace of mind."
This is a setup. Tillie's been not-so-subtly trying to throw Rowan and me together since the gala, convinced we'd make an "adorable power couple." The woman is relentless when she gets an idea in her head.
But I'm a professional. I can find Rowan, ensure she's where she needs to be, and maintain appropriate boundaries. It's not difficult.
At least, that's what I tell myself as I head toward the town square.
The festival grounds are controlled chaos—volunteers scurrying about with clipboards, vendors setting up booths, maintenance crews testing sound equipment and electrical connections. I check the main pavilion first, where the flower arrangements will be displayed, but find only Avianna arranging chairs.
"Looking for someone?" she asks, her expression far too innocent to be genuine.
"Mayor Tillie wanted me to check on the pavilion setup," I say, deliberately vague.
"Mmhmm." She smirks. "If you're looking for Rowan, she went to get more ribbon from City Hall. Should be heading back this way any minute."
I nod, keeping my expression neutral despite the knowing look she gives me. "I'll let her know you're waiting."
I turn to leave, only to nearly collide with the very person I've been both seeking and avoiding.
Rowan stands in the pavilion entrance, arms full of spools of pastel ribbon, her expression momentarily startled before she composes herself.
