Page 17 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)
Chapter seventeen
Dane
T he scent of grilled cheese still lingers in the air, mingling with roasted garlic, warm tomato soup, and just the faintest trace of something softer—Cam.
Her scent has woven its way into the space, light and grounding, like sugar-dusted citrus.
I catch it as I carry the last bowl to the table, and it does something to me I’m not ready to face.
I’m not ready for any of this.
We’re gathered around Gram’s cozy, well-worn kitchen table.
Jamie is sprawled into his seat like it’s claimed him, one leg slung over the other, arms lazily crossed as he surveys the spread.
Theo is buttering a piece of bread with all the intensity of a competitive athlete.
Cam slips into the seat across from me, cheeks still slightly pink from her shower, hair damp and curling over her shoulders.
I shouldn’t have been waiting by that door.
The image of her, towel wrapped around her like a second skin, eyes wide but not frightened... It’s burned behind my eyelids. Her scent had spiked—embarrassment, maybe, but something else too. Something responding. Something interested.
I try not to think about it. I fail.
“Okay,” Cam says, pulling her bowl toward her and peering in like she’s about to evaluate a science experiment. “This smells incredible. And it doesn’t look like you burned anything, so… color me impressed.”
Jamie grins. “I only lit one dishtowel on fire.”
“One?” Theo deadpans. “That’s personal growth.”
“And we still have eyebrows, so I’d say it’s a win,” I mutter.
Cam’s eyes flick between us, amused. “Did you all grow up cooking together, or is this a new bonding experience?”
“College survival skills,” Jamie says with a dramatic flourish of his spoon. “Our first apartment together was one broken stove away from being condemned.”
“You should’ve seen Dane trying to boil pasta,” Theo adds. “He didn’t turn on the burner. And no salt.”
“It was the first night!” I protest, though there’s no heat to it. “And you scorched rice the next day, so maybe don’t cast stones.”
Cam giggles, eyes sparkling. “So, the culinary dream team, huh?”
“It’s why we got better,” Jamie says, winking. “Trial by fire. Literally.”
“I think there were actually burn marks on the ceiling,” Theo adds.
“That wasn’t me!” I point at Jamie.
“Okay, technically it was the toaster oven,” Jamie allows, raising his hands in surrender. “But we all survived. Barely.”
Cam leans forward on her elbows, completely at ease. “And now you’re landlords together?”
“Roommates turned business partners,” I say, glancing around the table. “We spent enough time fixing up that junker apartment ourselves, we figured—why not do it for real? Buy, renovate, rent.”
“The dream,” Cam says lightly, though there’s a note in her voice I can’t quite place.
Jamie jumps in before the quiet can stretch. “We even argued about what to name the LLC. Dane wanted something serious.”
“Because it is serious,” I say.
“Theo wanted something minimalistic and obscure.”
“Because it’s branding, and you wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit you in the—”
“And I wanted to call us Alpha Asset Avengers,” Jamie interrupts proudly.
Cam chokes on her soup, coughing with laughter. “Please tell me you did.”
“Absolutely not,” I say.
“We compromised,” Theo says, smirking. “It’s called Grove Holdings.”
Cam gives a mock sigh. “That’s very respectable, and I did note it on my lease agreement. But Alpha Asset Avengers would’ve looked great on letterhead.”
Her laughter wraps around us again, golden and easy.
She belongs here. Somehow, in just a few days, she’s slipped into this rhythm like she’s always been part of it.
She teases Jamie like she’s known him for years, sidesteps Theo’s sarcasm with practiced ease, and meets me glare for glare.
And yet... I can feel something unraveling in me. Some plan I’d spent years building.
Because I was supposed to leave.
Starling Grove was never meant to be permanent.
It was a stepping stone—a place to build experience, not to plant roots.
I’ve been looking at listings in the city.
Bigger opportunities. Higher stakes. I want to grow, stretch, make something of myself beyond the county lines of this quaint little town.
But now?
Cam reaches for the pepper grinder and says something about needing more kick, and Jamie immediately starts arguing about flavor balance while Theo mutters something about refined palettes. I watch her laugh with them like she was meant to be at this table.
And I don’t know if I can leave.
Not when the idea of walking away from this—this laughter, this easy companionship, this radiant omega who smells like she was poured into the cracks of my carefully planned life—feels like a mistake.
Cam glances at me. “You’re quiet tonight. Too busy judging our soup etiquette?”
I blink, then smile. “Just taking it all in.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Does it meet your standards, landlord Dane?”
“Barely,” I tease, and Jamie groans.
“See? He can’t just admit my cooking is good. It has to be some kind of performance review.”
Theo lifts his spoon. “I, for one, appreciate Dane’s commitment to quality assurance.”
“And I appreciate that none of you poisoned me,” Cam says, raising her bowl like a toast.
We all follow, clinking spoons and mugs and glasses, the sound awkward and perfect. It’s such a simple moment. A small dinner at a kitchen table. But it roots something deeper in me. The kind of memory that makes you second-guess every exit plan you’ve ever drafted.
Later, after we’ve finished and the dishes are soaking in the sink, Cam leans back in her chair and sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this... safe.”
My throat tightens. Jamie reaches over and gently nudges her shoulder.
“That’s what we’re here for.”
And we are.
I just don’t know what that means anymore.