Page 2 of Knottily Ever After (Crescent Lake Cozy Omegaverse #1)

Chapter Two

Violet

“ Y ou’ve got to be kidding me.”

I stare at the apologetic woman wringing her hands outside of a floral shop, the top floor of which was supposed to be my apartment while I’m in Crescent Lake. Her Beta scent is of muted floral notes, but growing increasingly distressed, pulling on my sympathies for her.

I’d paid six months’ rent upfront before I left L.A. with only a few bags of clothes and essentials, my trusty laptop, and Remy.

It took me two leisurely days to get to Crescent Lake, one overnight stay at a cozy motel en route. And now that I’ve arrived, I find work trucks outside the building I’m supposed to move into.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Marshall,” she says, her head shaking. “I tried to call you, but your phone kept going straight to voicemail.”

Well, that was my fault.

It wasn’t more than five minutes after I’d decided to leave home that Steve started calling.

Probably had to wait until after his boss reamed him out, and his knot deflated.

When I didn’t answer, and he didn’t stop calling, I just shut off my phone and never turned it back on. It was kind of freeing, actually.

But now…

“There’s no way I can move in, then?”

The woman’s head is shaking before I finish asking.

“Even my business is shut down. The pipes burst and flooded the entire apartment and damaged the ground floor.” There are tears in her eyes.

“They tell me that the repairs will take about a month due to the damage and the age of the building. I’ll refund your money, of course! ”

I sigh and close my eyes. This was the only available apartment I could find online, so I jumped on it immediately.

It was super cute, just one bedroom with a living room, a nice bathroom, and a killer updated kitchen.

When I look back at the lady, I ask, “Are there any other apartments available that you know of?”

Her expression grows even more sorrowful. “I don’t know of any, but I’ll ask around. I’m sure I can help you find somewhere to go.”

Another sigh as I reach for my phone in my bag and turn it on.

182 missed calls. 34 voicemails.

Holy shit. I don’t have time to unpack that right now, but I’m glad I told my doorman and building security not to let Steve into my penthouse with explicit instructions to tell him I’d left.

I hadn’t intended to return for six months, but if I don’t find another place to stay, my whole plan is ruined.

I need a drink.

“Oh,” the woman blinks at me, and I realize I said that out loud.

“There’s a lovely bar just a few blocks from here on Main Street, on a corner.

If you go there, I’ll start asking around about apartments.

” She pauses. “There is a lakeside hotel that should have a vacancy if I don’t find anything for you right away. ”

“Thank you, Ms…?”

She smiles at me for the first time, her aged eyes crinkling in the corners. “I’m Lilly Granger. Please, call me Lilly.”

I offer a weak smile in return. “Then call me Violet.”

She looks sad again. “I thought it was fate that you’d rented my apartment.”

My brows draw in question. “Why is that?”

She gestures to herself. “Lilly.” Then to me. “Violet.” Then, to the quaint floral shop behind her, where workers are cleaning and repairing.

I let out a huff of laughter. “How about that.”

Lilly sighs. “I’ll call you whether I find something or not.”

I wave my phone at her before sliding it into the back pocket of my jeans. “Phone is on now. Thank you, Lilly.”

I climb back into my car, my legs and back protesting after my final four-hour drive, and move my car from the curb so it’s out of the way of the workers.

Sighing and grumbling, I find the bar just where Lilly said it would be.

The storefronts are mostly connected, varying in their number of stories from two to four.

While the top floors are tan brick, the ground floors are bold and vibrant colors.

The bar, which is called Hops & Scotch , is on the end of the joined businesses at the corner of Main Street and Delta Avenue.

The face of it is a deep, blood red, the old-timey, double wooden doors painted black, small squares of frosted glass set high inside them, twin ornate bronze door handles.

Parking in front is wide open, and that’s when I come out of my stupor enough to realize Main Street is pretty quiet, even for a Wednesday afternoon.

I exit the car, lock it, more likely out of habit than necessity in a place like this, and take only my purse with me to the doors.

I pull one open by the solid handle and step inside.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the low light after being in the bright sun, but when they do, the sight before me is breathtaking.

The interior is far larger than I expected, polished concrete floors running deep into the back, shiny wooden tables and chairs on the left, the bar on the right.

And the bar… it’s made of weathered wood at the base, black paint elegantly distressed.

The top is a glimmering mahogany, smooth and reflecting the hanging lights above it, matching the stools lined up in front of it.

The wall behind the bar is mostly stainless steel, with more taps than I can count at a glance, chalkboard menus hanging high above them.

On either side are recessed, dark wooden shelves inside dark brick walls, one holding all sorts of glasses, the other a large array of liquor and wine bottles.

I think my mouth is already gaping when the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on enters from a door behind the bar I hadn’t noticed.

He’s tall, muscular, and wearing a pale blue button-down shirt, the top few buttons undone, waving open and closed as he approaches the bar.

His dark brown hair is stylishly combed back, long on top and short on the sides.

Well-manicured stubble covers his jaw and upper lip, and when our gazes meet, I notice his eyes are the most stunning shade of gray I’ve ever seen.

“Welcome to Hops and Scotch.” His voice is whiskey smooth, deep, and kindhearted. I let it wrap around me for a moment, blinking, before I remember to close my mouth.

Then open it again. “Um...hi.”

Oh, good, Vi. Very good. That squeak at the end there was super sexy.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smile, and— gods, kill me now —this man has a dimple. One solitary dimple on his left cheek.

I haven’t been in Crescent Lake for thirty minutes yet, and I’ve already met a man who I wouldn’t mind letting make me forget all my problems back home.

Am I his type? Please say I’m his type.

When he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt with those sexy man-hands to expose his muscular forearms, I swear my panties catch on fire. All I can think is how much I want him to bend me over the bar and—

—and my mood is instantly killed by visions of Sam bent over Steve’s desk.

I want to burn my retinas now.

With a sigh, I approach the bar and take a seat in front of the taps, placing my purse on the seat beside me before looking up at the menus.

“Just passing through or staying for a bit?”

Of course, he’d know I wasn’t from around here. I’m sure everyone knows everyone in a town so small.

I give him a halfhearted smile. “To be determined,” I say. “I was supposed to rent the place above the florist down the street, but there’s been a bad plumbing emergency.”

He winces. “Oh, man. I checked in with Lilly earlier today. She’s heartbroken.” He frowns. “I’m sure that wasn’t in your plans.”

My laughter is devoid of humor. “Not at all.” When I turn my attention back to the menu, I let out a little gasp. “I’ll take a pint of the apricot wheat if you have it.”

He gives me another killer grin, letting that dimple come out to say hi. “Lady after my own heart.”

I like the sound of that.

He turns to get a pint glass and heads toward the tap, expertly pouring into the tilted glass, letting just enough foam form at the top. The liquid is light amber with more of an orange tint than most beers.

He places a coaster down and sets the glass on top of it before I lift it to my lips and sip, letting out a moan of appreciation.

“This is so freaking good,” I tell him, noticing he’s frozen in place, staring at me.

Oh, gods, do I have foam on my face? I lick my upper lip but find none, and the bartender shuffles a little.

Speak, Violet. Converse with the man. “Um, do you brew everything here or get it delivered?”

My question brings him back to life, and he smiles easily.

Hello again, dimple.

“I brew everything myself,” he says, pride filling his face. “I could give you a tour of the basement facility sometime if you’d like. I mean, if you stick around.”

My eyes light up at the prospect. “I’d love that.”

“I’m Vaughn,” he says, his head tilting as he peers down at me.

“Violet,” I reply, taking another sip of the delicious brew to stop myself from saying anything super ridiculous. You know, like, ask a total stranger if he has a girlfriend or what he thinks of my ass.

“Beautiful name,” he rumbles.

My heart does this little flip-flop thing it hasn’t in years.

“What brings you to Crescent Lake, Violet?”

Oof. First, the way he says my name makes me feel like I’m melting. Second, what a can of worms to open with this hottie. “I needed a break from the big city for a while. Someplace out of my element to write my next book.”

He perks up at that. “You’re an author?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him that. Not that I’m ashamed, just… most men react a certain way to finding out a woman writes romance novels. Especially the super-spicy kind.

I sip and nod in response.

“That’s amazing,” he says with an awestruck tone I don’t expect. “I’ve never met an author before.”

My phone rings inside my bag. It’s not Steve’s ringtone, but I cautiously look at the caller ID, thankful to find that it’s Lilly. “Excuse me,” I tell Vaughn before answering the phone. “Hi, Lilly.”

“Violet!” she says, sounding relieved. “I’m so glad you answered the phone. I have some… not-so-great news.”

And this is my life now.

“What’s happening?”

“I’ve called around to anyone I know who rents, and none of them have vacancies.” She sounds like she’s going to cry. “And the hotel is booked out after Friday for a convention, so you’d only have two nights there. I’d forgotten all about it.”

My head drops like a lead balloon, but I manage to stifle my groan.

“I am so sorry, Violet. The repairmen still say thirty days or so to complete the repairs, but…”

I let out a sigh. “But you should always allot for double the time.”

“You’re familiar with contractors.”

“Yeah.” I lift my head, brain whirring. “My father owned a commercial construction firm.”

She’s quiet a moment. “I’ll refund your money now. I’m terribly sorry.”

I think back to when I pulled up. That quaint little flower shop. The kind, little old lady who probably depended on the rent money to survive in a small town like this. She couldn’t possibly get enough floral business to thrive.

Six months’ rent. That has to cover the repairs for her place.

“Listen, Lilly,” I begin, “why don’t you keep the rent money and adjust the contract? I’ll go back to L.A. and come back once the apartment is ready. Use the rent to help with the repair costs.”

She gasps so loud I jump on my stool. Then, there is a sniffling sound that grips my heart. “Violet,” she whispers. “A-are you s-sure?”

I smile despite the fact she can’t see me. I knew this was the right call. I mean, it’s an inconvenience for me to have to go back to L.A. so soon, but in the end, I’ll still get the peace and quiet I wanted. Just a little later than anticipated.

“Absolutely sure.”

She’s crying so audibly now that my brows draw in concern.

“You’re an angel!” she wails. “Thank you, thank you.”

It takes some additional reassurance before I can disconnect the call and draw in a deep breath, then let it out slow.

“That was an amazing thing you did.”

I jump for the second time and grasp my chest, having almost forgotten about Dimple Hottie, Vaughn.

I let out a nervous laugh and shake my head.

“Dad always told me, ‘Be the hero of your own story.’ It’s something I try to live up to when I can.

” My eyes swim at the memory of me, at the tender age of seven, crying when I saw a little black dog on the streets, skinny and shaking, scared out of his mind.

“ Why are you crying, Little Flower?” my dad had asked, crouching down to be at eye level, as he always had.

“ T-that doggie,” I pointed at it. “He deserves a h-home. L-love.”

My father looked at the dog, then back at me, his head tilting. “If you had superpowers, what would you do?”

I stared after the dog longingly, its frightened brown eyes looking back at me. “I’d heal him. Take him home. Love him forever.”

That’s when my father smiled at me, that kind, warm smile he always had. “Be the hero of your own story, Little Flower. Make it happen, even without powers.”

Niko had been the best dog anyone could have ever asked for.

Vaughn leans on the bar on his forearms and twists his head toward me.

“Look, I know you’re in a bit of a jam with what happened at Lilly’s place, and this might be a bit forward, but there’s a vacant room upstairs,” he gestures upward with his head.

“It’s a good size and has its own bathroom.

You’d have to share the kitchen and living room, but the other tenants don’t hang out there much aside from dinner and sleeping.

You’re more than welcome to take a look at it and stay there until Lilly’s is fixed up. ”

Whoa. Is this real?

“I…” I blink at him, clearing my swimming vision. “Really?”

His dimple comes out to say hello again. “Absolutely. Come on. I’ll show you around and you can decide if you want to stay.”