Page 3 of Knot Your Sunshine (Snugverse Romcom #2)

Chapter two

Noa

"Will you put that down? We need to focus." I lean against my desk, the cool marble edge pressing into my palms as I watch Keanu lift the amber bottle to his nose again. His whole body goes slack, eyes rolling back before sliding shut.

"Noa's right." Josh spins his ergonomic chair away from his workstation, where three holographic displays float in mid-air, glowing softly. "We've been at this for a week, and the most beautiful omega we've ever seen still hasn't stepped foot in Hawaii."

Keanu shifts on the Italian leather couch, his shoulder-length hair catching the light as he turns his head. "But it smells so divine." He holds the bottle toward me, and sunrays coming from the panoramic window catch the oil inside, turning it molten. "Here, just take one whiff. For relaxation."

"We need a strategy, not relaxation." But I instinctively push off from the desk, my eyes locking on that damn bottle. The pull is magnetic, primal, and my feet move without permission, crossing the polished floor until I'm snatching it from his hand.

The moment I bring it to my nose, every muscle in my body gives up. "Fuuuck."

The room tilts. My knees actually buckle, and I have to grab the back of the couch to stay upright. Through sheer force of will, I manage to stretch my arm back toward Keanu, the bottle trembling in my grip.

"Take it. Take it back before I—"

The office door swings open.

Claire walks in balancing a stack of papers, her heels creating a steady rhythm on the marble.

She takes one look at me and her face cycles through confusion, recognition, then that particular brand of mortification, the one she's worn every time she's caught us with this bottle over the past three days.

"Oh. Um." She sets the papers on my desk without making eye contact. "Sorry for bothering you. I just, uh. I'll leave the Singapore merger paperwork here."

"Claire, you don't have to—" Josh starts, but she's already edging toward the door.

"No, no, it's fine. Uh, anyway, I have... calls. Many calls." Her hand fumbles for the door handle. "Very important ones."

The door closes with a soft click that somehow sounds final.

"Well." Keanu sits up, running a hand through his hair. "That wasn't uncomfortable at all."

"She's never going to look us in the eye again," Josh mutters, adjusting his glasses.

"Can you blame her?" I finally manage to straighten up, tossing the bottle back to Keanu before it completely destroys what's left of my composure. "We practically tackled her in this very room three days ago."

"Except we didn't tackle her," Keanu protests, catching the bottle one-handed. "We just... enthusiastically surrounded her."

"While making sniffing sounds," Josh adds helpfully.

"Dudes, we gotta stop beating ourselves up over what was just an honest mistake!" Keanu throws his hands up, then immediately brings the bottle back to his nose. "How were we supposed to know she was wearing this ?" He takes another deep inhale. "Daaamn, that smells good... I thought for sure she—"

"Was our scent match." I cut in, the memory still fresh and mortifying.

That's right, folks. For a brief, insane moment, we thought our beta assistant, who's been working with us for seven years without triggering our instincts once, had somehow become our scent match. "That wasn't our brightest moment."

"Well, at least it made us find out about the hair oil and the TikToks," Josh says, swiping at one of his displays to pull up a new data stream. "Without that, we'd never have found her ."

Her. Mia Everly from Lakeview. The omega whose homemade hair oils have somehow captured a fragment of her scent. Grrr, just thinking about it makes me want to tear off my shirt and howl at the moon.

"Speaking of." I force myself to focus, moving to stand behind Josh's chair. The holographic display shows data that might as well be hieroglyphics for all I understand. "Give me the analysis one more time."

Josh's fingers dance across the keyboard as he speaks.

"Based on the residual genetic markers in the oil sample, my proprietary algorithm gives us a 98% probability of a true scent match.

The markers align with our pack's specific pheromone receptors at a molecular level.

" He pauses, pushing his glasses up. "Which is great news. "

"But?" I frown.

"But to be 100% certain she's our scent match, we need an in-person confirmation. The scent chemistry captured in the oil could have been affected by other factors that have nothing to do with her…"

Ninety-eight percent should feel like a sure thing. Instead, that two percent gap feels like a chasm we could all fall through.

"Always impressed with what you can do, Josh." Keanu whistles low, then caps the bottle with obvious reluctance. "Hey, have you thought about selling your scent-match probability analyzer to the Department of Pack Compatibility? That could easily add another billion to our net worth."

Josh shakes his head, not looking away from his screens.

"The algorithm and analyzer are tailor-made for our specific genetic code.

I had to map our entire pack genome and create predictive models based on our individual pheromone production.

It would take years to adapt it for general use.

And even then, there's no guarantee a public organization could deploy it across the country.

Anyway… back to our omega." He pushes his glasses up again.

"In the worst-case scenario, if it turns out she's not our scent match, I believe buying her salon would be a sound real estate investment.

Its value is projected to quintuple in the next five years based on current development trends in Lakeview. "

"But don't we already know she's not interested in selling?" Keanu asks suddenly. "Remember when we tried to lure her here by emailing that offer to buy her salon? Radio silence."

Josh's typing slows. "Sure, but being here, surrounded by all this"—he gestures vaguely at our office, the obvious wealth dripping from every surface—"might change her mind. Sometimes people need to see what wealth looks like in person."

"Whatever." I wave them off, though the thought of her rejecting us sits heavy in my stomach. "Money's not the issue here. We could buy half of Hawaii if we wanted. The question is, what's the progress on getting her to come here?"

The temperature in the room seems to drop. Josh's typing slows, then stops entirely. His shoulders hunch in that way that immediately sets off every alarm bell in my head.

"Josh?"

"Well." He shifts in his ergonomic chair, the leather creaking. "I've been working on it."

"And?"

"I've made contact."

The way he says it… it's like he's confessing to a crime. "Stop dancing around it. Show me."

"I'm not sure that's—"

"Josh." I use my head alpha dominance. "Show. Me."

He reluctantly swipes at his display, fingers moving like he's defusing a bomb. A new window opens. "I created a systematic approach based on my research into omega psychology and modern courtship patterns."

What fills the screen makes me want to put my head through the wall.

"Is that a torso?" I ask, though I'm afraid I already know the answer.

"A muscular alpha torso," Josh says, like that makes it better. "Omegas are biologically programmed to respond to displays of physical fitness."

The TikTok profile picture is a close-up of chiseled abs, cropped from chest to waistband. The username reads 'AlphaMagnate808.'

Keanu makes a choking sound that might be laughter or horror. "Josh, my man, I've literally seen that exact photo in ads for those sketchy testosterone supplements. You know, the ones that promise to make you an 'alpha god' in thirty days."

"It's aspirational," Josh defends weakly.

"It's sleazy," I grit out, then sigh in resignation. "Can you show me the messages?"

He winces and swipes to the next screen.

AlphaMagnate808: hey beautiful, I have an offer for you [Seen 3 days ago]

AlphaMagnate808: hello??? [Seen 3 days ago]

AlphaMagnate808: I can change your life [Seen 2 days ago]

AlphaMagnate808: you don't know what you're missing [Seen 2 days ago]

AlphaMagnate808: I know you're reading these [Seen 1 day ago]

I close my eyes and count to ten. Then twenty. When that doesn't work, I try thirty.

"Josh," I say slowly, opening my eyes to find him practically melting into his chair. "What exactly was your strategy here?"

He straightens, slipping into what Keanu and I call his 'professor mode', chin up, shoulders back, like he's about to deliver a TED talk. "A mysterious yet enticing approach. The shirtless photo establishes physical desirability, while the vague promises create intrigue. According to my research—"

"Your research told you to send creepy messages from a fake account?" Keanu asks, no longer hiding his amusement. "Bro."

"The academic papers were very clear about the importance of confidence and mystery in initial courtship approaches—"

"Academic papers?" I run both hands through my hair, probably making it stand up in all directions. "Josh, when was the last time you actually talked to a real person you were interested in?"

His silence stretches out, painful and telling.

I've had enough. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.

I pull out my phone, my fingers flying over the screen with the confidence of someone who's closed million-dollar deals with a text message. This is just another negotiation, another offer.

Well, except it's not, is it? This could change everything for us. No pressure at all, Noa…

My thumb hovers over the purchase button. A first-class ticket to Hawaii. Open-ended dates. No restrictions. Complete flexibility. My finger taps down. Purchased.

"What are you doing?" Josh asks, trying to peer at my screen.

"Going on the offensive," I mutter, already moving to the next step.

"Let me see," Keanu demands, abandoning the couch to look over my shoulder. Josh rolls his chair over as well, and suddenly I'm surrounded by my packmates, all of us staring at my phone screen like it holds the secrets of the universe.

"You... bought her a plane ticket?" Josh's voice rises with each word. "What if she thinks that's presumptuous?"

"I think it's confident," Keanu chimes in.

"It's probably too much—" Josh starts.

"Guys please." I hold up a hand to stop the spiral. "Josh, can you give me your phone? You have other TikTok accounts, right?"

"I do," he says slowly, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it out. "But what are you—"

I snatch it before he can finish, typing quickly, and hit send. The message disappears into the digital ether, and for a moment, we all just stare at the screen.

"Did you just… message her?" Josh's voice is barely above a whisper.

"Move your finger bro, I didn't see what you wrote," Keanu says, reaching for the phone.

The phone pings, cutting through the tension like a knife.

A slow smile spreads across my face as I read the notification. I look up at my packmates, both of them practically vibrating with anticipation. "Oh, it's on... she's coming."

Josh's mouth falls open. Nothing comes out for a solid three seconds. Then: "No way she already agreed. That was way too fast."

"Just check the airline app if you don't believe me," I tell him, unable to keep the smugness out of my voice. "The voucher code for the flight is iwufu203."

His fingers fly over his holographic keyboard, pulling up the airline's website. His eyes widen behind his glasses, reflecting the blue glow of the display. "It's... redeemed. She… she actually redeemed it."

"Which means we can stop talking and start preparing." I hand Josh his phone back, already shifting into planning mode. "Let's review our approach for when Mia arrives. We need to be completely aligned on this."

Josh clears his throat, straightening in his chair as he switches back to professor mode.

"Right. We each take half a dose of scent blockers and meet her individually first. Then, we write down her scent, and show each other the results after we've all met her.

This way, no one's influencing anyone else's scent perception of Mia. "

"And why are we doing this, Keanu?" I ask, expecting him to know the answer.

He rolls his eyes but plays along. "Because only scent matches can smell each other's precise scent notes.

The half dose of blockers means she won't immediately know we're scent matched but she'll still be able to smell us enough.

" He pauses, running a hand through his hair.

"It's a delicate balance. Too much blocker and we kill any natural attraction.

Too little and we risk overwhelming her the second she meets any of us…

which could scare her and make her run away. "

"And if she isn't our scent match?" Even saying it out loud makes something twist in my chest, and I see the same discomfort flash across my packmates' faces.

"Then..." Josh adjusts his glasses again, his hands shaky. "Then she gets a nice Hawaiian vacation, all expenses paid, and we keep things strictly professional. Talk business about the salon, nothing more."

"Good." I slap my thigh, the sound sharp in the quiet office. "Looks like we're all on the same page."