Page 9 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)
Chapter nine
Cam
I crouch by the front window, attempting to measure for the third time whether this display shelf will even fit the way I envisioned. My tape measure refuses to cooperate, and my hair keeps falling into my eyes despite the messy bun I twisted it into hours ago.
I huff and squint at the corner, trying to see if I miscalculated again. “This shelf is mocking me,” I mutter.
The door chimes behind me.
I shoot up so fast I smack my elbow against the side of the shelf. “Ow—!”
“Need a hand?” a low, calm voice says.
I turn, clutching my elbow and trying not to look completely flustered.
Standing just inside the doorway is an alpha who could’ve walked straight off a movie poster for “Tall, Dark, and Moody.” Dark jeans, sleeves pushed up over his forearms, dark hair that curls just slightly at the ends, and those eyes—deep and quiet, like he’s seen too much and doesn’t want to admit it.
He’s not smiling. Not unfriendly, just… still.
“I’m Theo,” he says, stepping forward. “Jamie and Dane mentioned you might need help.”
I blink. “Oh. Uh, yeah—maybe. This shelf is determined to ruin me.”
He nods once, stepping closer, and I instinctively back up, aware of his scent—woodsmoke and something earthy. Not overwhelming, just... grounding. Distracting. The kind of scent that slides under your skin and settles there like it’s always belonged.
“I can handle it if you’re busy,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to keep you.”
“I’m here,” he says simply. “Let’s get it done.”
And just like that, he rolls up his sleeves and kneels down beside the base of the shelf. I watch him move—methodical, precise—and then feel ridiculous for just standing there like a stunned squirrel.
I kneel beside him. “I’m Cam, by the way.”
“I know,” he says. “I remember you.”
That catches me off guard. “From where?”
“Back in the day,” he says. “You and your sister used to sneak candy into the library, where I worked. Zae would distract the head librarian while you set up a trading post behind the biography section.”
My mouth opens. Then closes. “We were very enterprising.”
A faint twitch of a smile. Barely there—but it counts.
We settle into a rhythm. I hand him tools. He anchors the base. We measure twice, drill once. And somewhere between debating shelf height and which direction looks less crooked, the silence between us shifts into something almost comfortable.
“You’ve done this before,” I say.
He glances over. “I’ve built worse things with worse tools in worse weather.”
I snort. “That sounds encouraging.”
“I mean it as a compliment.”
I let out a soft laugh. “Thanks... I think.”
He steadies the top panel while I secure the bolts. Our hands brush once. I pretend not to notice. But my heart stumbles.
Get a grip, Cam.
He’s just an alpha. A very attractive, capable, infuriatingly calm alpha. Who smells way too good and looks way too serious about measuring shelf brackets.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask, trying to distract myself.
“Grew up here. Left for a while. Came back when Jamie and Dane wanted to invest in properties.”
I nod. “Do you like it?”
He considers this longer than I expect. “Some days.”
I glance at him. There’s something weighty behind the simplicity of the words. Like he’s wrestling with more than he lets on. But he doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask.
“So,” I say after a beat, “is this shelf going to collapse the first time someone leans on it, or...?”
“It’ll outlive us both,” he says, deadpan.
I huff a laugh, then frown at the bolt in my hand. “Good. Because some days, I feel like this whole shop might collapse under me.”
Theo pauses, turning to look at me. His gaze doesn’t waver.
“This whole shop,” I continue, quieter now, “was a dream Zae and I had. I thought opening it would feel like I was reclaiming something. But some days it feels like I bit off way too much. Like I’m just pretending.”
“You’re not,” he says, voice low. Sure.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t need to.” He sets a bracket in place and finally meets my gaze. “I can see the work you’re putting in.”
I swallow against the knot forming in my throat. His eyes are steady. There’s no pity there, just quiet recognition. Like maybe he knows what it’s like to try and rebuild something from broken pieces.
We finish tightening the bolts. The shelf is up. Level. Solid.
I step back, brushing my hands on my jeans, then steal a glance at Theo.
“Thanks,” I say.
He gives me a short nod. “Anytime.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, I add, “I might need help again. With the displays, maybe. Or signage.”
“Just say when.”
There’s another beat of silence between us. It’s... comfortable. And a little dangerous. Because I can already feel the pull.
I remind myself—firmly—that I don’t have time for distractions. Especially not the broad-shouldered, broody alpha variety. I didn’t come here to find a pack. I came to build something of my own.
Theo steps toward the door, pausing as he reaches for the handle.
I think about what my gram said—how she hoped I’d come here and stay a while. How she sent me to this very building like she’d known all along it would matter to me.
Of course she did.
Theo doesn’t say anything else. Just offers a small nod before he slips out, the door clicking softly behind him.
I lean against the freshly mounted shelf, heart pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with power tools.
This is fine. I can handle it.
I’m just here to build a candy shop.
Nothing more.