Page 79 of The Knotheads Next Door
I stiffen at the accusation, though I know it's warranted. "I apologize. It won't happen again."
"That's not—" She sighs, her expression softening. "I'm not reprimanding you. I'm concerned. This isn't like you."
Because I'm not like me anymore. Not since Rowan stood in my kitchen with Gerald on her shoulder, humming softly, looking perfectly at home. Not since I held her on the festival grounds, feeling her warmth against my chest, her scent wrapping around me. Not since I stood in her doorway last night, watching Theo comfort her through her heat while every cell in my body screamed to join them.
"I'm fine," I say, the lie so obvious it almost sticks in my throat. "Just a bit sleep-deprived with the festival."
Tillie clearly doesn't believe me, but mercifully she lets it drop. "Well, try to focus. The governor is arriving at three, and I need you at your sharpest."
I nod, grateful for the return to business. "I'll review the security protocols again before his arrival."
"Good. That's all for now." She waves me off, already turning her attention to the stack of papers on her desk.
Back in my own office, I close the door and lean against it, exhaling slowly. This is unacceptable. I have responsibilities, duties that require my complete attention. I can't afford to be distracted by thoughts of Rowan, by the memory of her scent, by the image of her melting into Theo's arms.
I move to my desk, determined to focus on work, only to find myself reaching into my jacket pocket before I can stop myself. My fingers close around the silky fabric I tucked there this morning—Rowan's head scarf, left behind on the couch the other night. I had picked it up intending to return it, then somehow... didn't.
Instead, I brought it with me to work, like some lovesick teenager carrying a token of his crush. Pathetic.
But I don't put it away. Instead, I bring it to my face, inhaling deeply. Her scent is concentrated here, sweet and warm with that hint of spice that makes her uniquely Rowan. The fabric is soft against my skin, and for a moment I allow myself to imagine it's her—her softness, her warmth, her presence filling the emptiness I never acknowledged until she appeared.
My phone buzzes on the desk, startling me back to reality. It's a text from Theo.
Rowan's fever spiked again. Got her settled for now, but might need to take shifts if this continues. You coming home early?
Home. Such a simple word, and yet it carries weight now that it didn't before. Home isn't just the house we share—it's where Rowan is, where her scent mingles with ours, where Gerald prowls the hallways like he owns the place, where the four of us have created something that feels dangerously close to...a family.
My thumb hovers over the call button. I should check on her directly. Hear her voice. Make sure she's okay.
But what would I say? What comfort could I possibly offer when I've been so careful to maintain my distance, to protect myself from exactly this kind of entanglement?
I set the phone down without calling, hating myself a little for the cowardice.
Town Hall until 5. Home after that,I text back instead, the words inadequate but safe.
My door bursts open without warning, and Lala sweeps in like a pastel hurricane, arms full of files and a determined glint in her eye that immediately puts me on guard.
"I need your signature on these vendor applications," she announces, dropping the stack on my desk with unnecessary force. "And don't give me that look. I'm doing you a favor by bringing them here instead of making you come to the bakery."
"I appreciate your consideration," I say dryly, reaching for the forms. "Though a knock would have been customary."
"Customs are boring," she dismisses, crossing her arms as she watches me sign. "Almost as boring as you're being right now."
I look up, pen poised mid-signature. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." She perches on the edge of my desk, uninvited. "You should be home right now, not hiding in your office pretending to work."
I blink, momentarily thrown. "I'm not hiding, and this isn't pretend work. The governor—"
"Isn't arriving for another four hours, and you've already triple-checked the security protocols." She waves a dismissive hand. "Meanwhile, Rowan is going through her first heat, and you're... what? Filing paperwork?"
I set the pen down carefully, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "Rowan is fine. Theo is with her."
"Ah yes, one out of three. Very impressive showing from her potential mates."
"We're not her mates," I say automatically, though the words feel hollow.
Lala's eyebrows rise nearly to her hairline. "Really? Because that's not what your pheromones have been screaming at me for weeks. Or what your face broadcasts every time she walks into a room. Or what had your scent glands doing overtime atthe festival setup when you were marking your territory like a teenager at prom."
