Page 5 of Knot Your Sunshine (Snugverse Romcom #2)

Chapter four

Josh

The Honolulu airport churns with tourists, floral shirts blurring past. I scan each face methodically: blonde hair, no. Black hair, too old. Brunette, close, but no.

Then I see her.

She's standing near the baggage claim, probably no taller than five-foot-three, wearing a red sundress that skims her petite yet generous figure.

Dark curls tumble past her shoulders, catching the airport lighting and somehow making it look romantic.

And then she glances in my direction, and my breath catches.

Her eyes… they're violet. Actually violet, like twilight over the Pacific.

So it wasn't a filter after all…

Suddenly, a scent hits me and I have to grip the nearest pillar to steady myself. It's hers. My alpha senses pick it up even from twenty feet away, cutting through every other smell in this crowded airport.

Mango and lavender, exactly like the notes I caught in her hair oil but intensified, richer, completely intoxicating. The breath leaves my lungs in a rush, and I have to fight the urge to rush toward her immediately.

She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she's definitely our scent match. One hundred percent. No margin of error.

But my triumph shatters when I process the rest of the scene. She's not alone. There's another young omega next to her, an elderly omega… and three alphas. All of them positioned protectively around the group.

My stomach drops to somewhere near my shoes. My hands clench involuntarily, nails biting into my palms. She brought alphas? But my research said nothing about—

Wait. Breathe. Analyze.

I close my eyes and focus, extending my alpha senses. The other young omega's scent... she smells bonded. Her pheromones are thoroughly intertwined with three alpha signatures that match the men accompanying her. They're a pack. Not Mia's pack.

My shoulders drop from where they'd climbed toward my ears. Okay. Crisis averted. She just brought friends for support. Smart, actually.

She's moving closer now, weaving through the crowd, and with each step her scent grows stronger. This time my knees do buckle, and I almost fall. Every cell in my body screams to get closer, to breathe her in, to discover every note and nuance of her scent, to—

Focus, Josh. Keep your self-control.

I take a few seconds to collect myself, stand upright, smooth my shirt, and approach, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I'm sure everyone in a ten-foot radius can hear it.

"Mia Everly?"

She turns from her conversation, and our eyes meet.

The world stops. Actually stops. The airport and crowd fade to background noise. It's just her eyes on mine, her violet irises edged by growing dark centers. Her lips part slightly, and my enhanced alpha sight zeroes in on the pulse fluttering at her throat like a trapped butterfly.

She feels something too. Maybe not the full force of what I'm experiencing, the half-dose of blockers makes sure of that, but there's definitely something flickering in those remarkable eyes.

"Yes?" Her voice is melody and honey and home, and I'm drowning in the single syllable.

"I'm Josh." I manage what I hope passes for a casual smile, though my voice comes out rougher than intended, like I've been gargling gravel. "I'm the assistant my employer sent to escort you."

She blinks, those long lashes fluttering, and I catch the subtle way she leans forward, just an inch, as if trying to catch my scent through the chemical barriers. My omega, our omega, already trying to find me even though she doesn't know why.

"I apologize on his behalf," I continue, forcing professionalism into my tone even as her gaze makes me feel like I'm free-falling without a parachute. "He was called away on urgent business and won't be able to meet you for a few days."

Disappointment flashes across her features, a tiny downturn of her lips, a dimming in her eyes, and I want to fix it immediately. Want to tell her everything will be perfect, that she's about to meet her pack, that we've been searching for her without her knowing it.

"In the meantime," I press on, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her, "I've been instructed to take you to the resort and ensure you have everything you desire.

" I let a small smirk play on my lips. "That offer extends to your friends as well.

We can certainly arrange accommodations for everyone. "

"Oh!" She brightens slightly. "That's really generous, but—"

One of the alphas steps forward, tall and lean with dark hair that's artfully tousled, wearing an expensive-looking linen shirt. He moves with the kind of casual elegance that speaks of old money and good upbringing.

"That's very generous, but there's no need. I've already booked the Celestial Pack Suite for us, and the Royal Suite for our omega's mother," he says, with an unplaceable lilt that only adds to his charisma.

My eyes widen before I can stop them. The Celestial Pack Suite runs fifteen thousand a night. Minimum three-night stay. "Does that mean... you wouldn't happen to be Mr. Beaumont, would you?"

He nods, a warm smile transforming his aristocratic features from handsome to approachable. "Dorian. A pleasure."

"The honor is all mine, sir." The words tumble out in an embarrassing rush. "Our resort serves Beaumont Patisserie exclusively to our guests. I—my boss and I are huge fans. The brown butter croissants? Life-changing."

"Well, I appreciate that." His smile widens, genuine pleasure lighting his eyes. "Our chérie"—he gestures toward the petite omega with obvious affection—"insisted we take a much-needed holiday to accompany her dear friend."

The omega practically vibrates with excitement, bouncing on her toes. "I'm Elena! And listen, I love Beaumont pastries, I really do, but we're in Hawaii! I want to try malasadas and haupia pie and those coconut things… what are they called? The ones with the chocolate?"

Of course. The pieces click into place almost audibly.

Their omega... This is Elena Beaumont, last year's prestigious Lakeview Baking Festival winner.

If the trade blogs are right, she recently opened a bakery that's already the best in her state, even outselling the Lakeview Beaumont Patisserie branch. ..

"Chocolate haupia bars," I supply, keeping my voice steady despite realizing I'm speaking to the baker everyone's been talking about. "And I'd be happy to arrange a tasting menu of local specialties. The resort has connections with the best local bakeries."

"Really?" Her eyes go wide, and I find myself genuinely charmed by her enthusiasm. "That would be amazing!"

The second alpha saunters forward with the kind of confidence that suggests he could charm his way out of prison. His blue eyes glitter with mischief. "James Reynolds," he says, offering a hand.

I shake it, my eyebrow lifting. "James Reynolds as in the 2025 National Baking Champion?"

He flashes a grin that's positively wicked. "The one and only. Though I prefer 'devilishly handsome pastry genius,' if we're using titles."

The third alpha is built like he could bench press a small car and not break a sweat. When he extends his hand, I note the calluses, the small scars, the way his gaze never stops moving, scanning our surroundings like he's cataloging exits and potential threats.

"Cole, Lakeview Fire Department," he says simply, and his grip could crack a walnut.

"J-Josh." I do my best to keep my face neutral while my hand throbs. "Good to meet you."

But I can't stay focused on them, charismatic as they are, not when Mia is right there, close enough that her scent keeps washing over me in waves. I turn back to her, drawn like a compass finding north.

"Now if you'll follow me, I'll take you to our transport.

Before we go though—" I raise my hand and several uniformed members of our resort staff approach us.

"I've arranged for a team to take your bags and transport them separately by helicopter.

They'll be waiting in your rooms when you arrive.

Saves you from hauling them all around."

"Oh, that's—" Mia starts, but Cole cuts her off.

"Hold on. Helicopter?"

"Yes, VIPs usually take the helicopter. Twenty minutes to the resort versus nearly two hours by car and boat." I keep my tone even, professional. "The cabin fits four plus the pilot, so we'll need to split up. But I can get a second helicopter here in minutes."

"I don't like this." Cole's voice drops to a low rumble that would probably make an arsonist confess on the spot.

"You seem pleasant enough, and your stories seem to add up, but we don't know a damn thing about you or your boss.

Except that he contacted Mia to talk business.

" His jaw clenches, muscles working. "For all we know, you could be a trafficker.

I thought about it on the plane, and I'm sure a pretty omega like this would fetch a much bigger price than a first-class ticket. "

"I—" I start, but Elena cuts me off with a dramatic eye roll.

"Oh my god, Cole, seriously? Look at him." She gestures at me. "Does Josh really look like a kidnapper to you? He's wearing designer glasses and his shirt has a crease ironed into the sleeves. Kidnappers don't iron creases into their sleeves."

She turns to me with a warm smile that only makes me understand more why her pack adores her. "Sorry about him. I love my alpha to pieces, but he can be... intense about safety."

Cole's expression softens as he looks at her. "Sorry, Sugar. I just... helicopters aren't like cars. If someone wanted to make you disappear, it'd be easier in the air. No witnesses, no escape routes."

Dorian's hand settles on Cole's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Cole. I had someone research the resort while we were on the plane.

It's legitimate, five-star, excellent safety record.

Six helicopter pilots on staff, all ex-military with spotless records.

" He looks at me with those sharp eyes that probably see straight through my nervous energy.

"But of course, we can never be too cautious. "

"Which is why I'll go with Mia in the helicopter," Elena announces as if on cue, threading her arm through Mia's. "And you're coming with us, Cole. For protection." She winks at him. "You can glare at Josh the whole flight if it makes you feel better."

The tension melts from Cole's shoulders like ice in the sun.

"Perfect," I say, trying to maintain my composure while cackling internally at how perfectly everything is working out. "I'll arrange for an additional helicopter immediately."

"Actually," Dorian says smoothly, already typing on his phone with one hand, "I just texted a contact who's already arranging for our own helicopter transport.

You can take our luggage though." He smiles, then gives Cole's shoulder a squeeze.

"I'm sure no one would try anything with you on board, but as an extra precaution, we'll be right behind you. Ten minutes, tops."

Looking at Cole's biceps, which are roughly the circumference of my thigh, I have to agree. The man looks like he wrestles grizzly bears for cardio.

"Excellent. This way, please." I start walking, grateful that the logistics are finally sorted and we can move forward.

As we head toward the tarmac where our helicopter waits, triumph courses through my veins like champagne, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like a maniac. The plan is working. Despite the minor hiccup with the protective alpha, everything is falling into place.

Mia walks beside me, occasionally brushing my arm in a way that sends electricity shooting through my entire nervous system. Each accidental touch is torture and bliss combined. She's here. She's real. She's more perfect than any algorithm could have predicted.

And I'm taking her home.