Page 10 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)
Chapter ten
Cam
T he bell above the candy shop door jingles as I push it open with my hip, arms stacked with jars.
They clink dangerously together, and the cardboard bites into my skin.
Dust motes glitter in the sunlight slanting through the wide front windows, the air smelling of paint, sawdust, and the faint sugar that clings to me from this morning’s failed batch of caramels.
The shop is raw still—bare floorboards, half-painted trim, shelves waiting for jars and ribbon—but it’s mine. Zae’s dream, and now somehow mine alone. The ache of her absence is sharp enough to sting my eyes.
The bell rings again.
Jamie strides in, warm grin lighting his face. “Careful, Cam.” He plucks the box from my arms like it weighs nothing. His cedar-and-honey scent curls through the air, comforting, heady, distracting.
“I wasn’t overdoing it,” I mutter, brushing dust from my hands. “I was arranging.”
“Arranging, uh-huh.” He grins. “Why don’t you arrange while I grab the rest from your car?”
I should argue, but my gaze catches on the way his shirt pulls over his shoulders as he leaves, and my protest fizzles.
The door jingles again.
“Please tell me you filed your signage permit,” Dane says. Clipboard in hand, voice all exasperated Alpha.
“…Signage permit?”
His groan could shake the rafters. “Camellia Vale. The town will fine you before your ribbon cutting.”
“Not everyone runs their life like a military operation.”
“Some of us just like avoiding disaster.” He smirks, sharp and smug, but I notice he’s already scanning the shelves like he’s checking for uneven brackets.
Before I can snap back, Jamie returns, boxes stacked high. “Easy, you two. You’ll scare the candy.”
The bell rings yet again. Theo steps in, hair mussed, shirt dusty, holding a bag of brackets. His quiet gaze lands on me and softens.
“I brought these,” he says simply. His voice is low, and it threads through me like a hum.
Now the shop is filled with them—cedar, smoke, leather—all their scents weaving together until the space feels too small. Too warm. Too much.
Still, we work in tandem.
Jamie hums as he lifts crates I can’t budge, laughing when I boss him around about where to put them.
Dane measures shelves twice, scolding my placement, then installs them exactly where I said in the first place.
Theo crouches beside me, screwing brackets into place, his arm brushing mine.
Each time it happens, I have to remind myself to breathe.
The room fills with warmth and sawdust and laughter. By mid-morning, I’m sweaty and tired but happier than I’ve been in years.
Of course, that’s when my foot slips on the stepstool.
I squeak, windmilling my arms, but three sets of hands steady me instantly—Jamie’s grip hot around my waist, Theo bracing the stool, Dane snatching the jar before it crashes.
For one suspended moment, I’m inhaling all of them at once, the world tilting under the weight of their nearness.
“Got you,” Jamie murmurs, voice low enough for only me.
I scramble down, cheeks on fire, mumbling thanks. Dane scolds, Theo lingers. My pulse doesn’t slow for minutes.
And, even then, I’m pretty sure my heart’s beating faster than it should, but I try (and mostly fail) to keep my brain on task.
At lunch, Jamie spreads sandwiches across the counter like it’s a picnic. Dane critiques my jar arrangement, smirk tugging at his mouth. Theo fiddles with brackets that don’t need fiddling.
I offer a tray of caramel squares, hand trembling.
Jamie pops one in his mouth and groans, shameless and obscene. “Holy hell, Cam.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “It’s just sugar and butter.”
“It’s sorcery,” he insists, licking his thumb.
Dane eats his slowly, gaze steady. “Texture could be smoother,” he says, deadpan.
I glare until he smirks. “But I’d still eat the whole tray.”
Theo tastes last. His eyes lift to mine, dark and unreadable, and the room tilts again.
Dangerous.
***
The ribbon box disaster comes next—spilling spools in every direction, bouncing across the floor.
“Oops,” I mutter, dropping to my knees.
Jamie’s there instantly, laughing as he untangles them. Dane crouches too, muttering about organization while winding them neatly. Theo sits across from me, fingers deft as he rewinds spools, his arm brushing mine again and again.
We’re huddled together on the floor, laughing, passing ribbons back and forth, and for a heartbeat it feels like family. Like Zae is there with us, teasing, humming, her hands busy beside mine.
The realization aches and heals at once.
***
The afternoon sun turns golden, filling the shop with light. I sweep sawdust, broom scratching across floorboards, the air sharp with wood and paint. My muscles ache, but my chest aches more, full of warmth and fear.
When I glance up, they’re watching me again—three different gazes, but all threaded with care. Jamie’s sunshine, Dane’s sharp warmth, Theo’s unreadable hunger.
I duck my head, heart pounding, pretending to chase dust.
***
When they finally leave, the bell jingling closed behind them, the shop feels too quiet. I sink onto the stool, breathless. Their scents linger in the air, teasing me. Too much, too distracting.
But when I picture Zae, I hear her laughter in the echoes of their banter. See her crouched on the floor, knotting ribbons. Feel her hand brushing mine.
She’d love this.
She’d whisper: This is what you always wanted.
Maybe she’s right.