Page 5 of Knottily Ever After (Crescent Lake Cozy Omegaverse #1)

Chapter Five

Violet

“ I missed you today.”

Vaughn’s greeting when I enter the kitchen around four in the afternoon stops me in my tracks.

“You didn’t come to say hello,” he says with a kind smile.

Oh… “I was on a good run with my work. Sorry.”

And now I’ve just lied to him, and I don’t really know why.

I was definitely not on a good run writing my writing today. I wallowed instead.

All morning and afternoon, my thoughts raced, riding a roller coaster track that traveled from depression to loneliness to nearly seeing light at the end of the tunnel, then right back into darkness.

I tried everything from watching something funny on TV, to trying to catch up on my favorite shows on my laptop, even playing games and trying to read a book.

Nothing worked. So when I heard movement in the apartment, I shot out of my room like a bullet and went straight to the kitchen, where I found Vaughn.

Had he really been waiting for me to go see him?

I didn’t go because… well, I didn’t want to seem needy, especially with someone I don’t know. And I didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.

“I understand,” he says, opening cabinets and taking out pots, pans, and utensils. “I’m glad you had a good day. It was really quiet at the bar this afternoon. But that’s normal this time of year. Won’t last much longer.”

I should have gone downstairs.

“I’ll visit tomorrow,” I tell him with excitement, both forced and real.

I’ve been essentially alone for years. I didn’t see Steve every day, and even on the days we did get together, I was alone for hours and hours around our time.

I don’t understand why I’m suddenly feeling so lonely.

Maybe I’m still mourning over the loss of the relationship I thought I had.

“Good.” Vaughn stops what he’s doing to look at me, head tilted.

“I don’t like the idea of you alone up here all the time.

” He frowns slightly. “I mean, of course, if that’s what you want, I’m not about to tell you to do otherwise.

I just think that being social, even while you’re working, can be a good thing. You know?”

I give him a meek, affirmative nod, and his beautiful steel eyes go soft, his brows draw a bit, forming a small wrinkle between them. He approaches slow, his head inclined. “I’m not trying to lecture you, Violet. I’m sorry.”

I blink at him in surprise. “I didn’t think you were.” That’s the truth.

He lets out a long breath. “That’s a relief. I’ve definitely been accused of doing that.” He pauses. “Maybe a lot.”

I let out a huff of laughter, and he smiles again, the tension in his body lifting.

“Would you care to be my sous chef?” The smile he gives lets his dimple grin at me, too, and I am powerless.

Not that I’d say no, anyway.

“I’d love to.”

Vaughn puts on music, teaching me how to control the system that has speakers in the kitchen and living room.

Then he breaks out a couple of wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot Noir with a fancy label I recognize from the past. He fills the glasses halfway, and we clink them before I take a sip.

It’s delicious but strong. I definitely prefer sweeter white wine, but I can tell this is going to get me tipsy. Fast.

And, right I am.

Sometime after chopping onions and garlic, but before setting the table, I am a smiling, giggling ball of warmth. And given Vaughn’s loud laughter and free-flowing hip-bumps, I think he’s feeling the same way.

When I return from the dining table, I realize two things: The wine bottle is empty, and I’ve set four places with what Vaughn set out for me.

Before I can ask any questions, the door to the apartment swings open, and a very sweaty, glistening Quinn walks through the door. “Hey!” he calls from in front of his door, smile wide, dark eyes on me. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Gonna shower and change.” Then, he’s gone.

“Quinn owns the fitness center in Crescent Lake,” Vaughn explains as he takes the meatballs out of the oven. “He’s a personal trainer, too.”

Well, that explains why Quinn’s muscles have muscles.

It isn’t a breath later that the door swings open again, and through it walks a man that takes my breath away.

He’s tall, lean but muscular, his black hair falling into his downward gaze as he walks along the hall toward me.

He has a large duffel bag in the grasp of his right hand, and up that arm snakes thick, black, tribal tattoos that lick up to his jaw from under his dark gray tee shirt.

My heart pounds like a drum when he stops in his tracks, head whipping upward, ice-blue eyes locking on me.

Am I breathing? I don’t think I’m breathing.

His gaze sweeps up and down my form, slow and almost predatory, but I don’t feel like I’m in danger. Not from him, at least. Maybe from my blood pressure pounding through my veins.

“Hello, there.”

His voice is smooth, husky, like he’s some kind of rock star.

“Ben!” Vaughn calls jovially from the kitchen before coming to stand beside me. “I was hoping you’d still make it back for dinner.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “This is Violet. She’ll be staying with us for a while. We’ll explain at dinner.”

Ben, the tattooed god, blinks a couple of times, bobs his head once, which allows the metal in this eyebrow to catch the light, then disappears into the other door across the hall from my room.

When Vaughn returns to the kitchen, I’m left standing alone where the hall opens into the living area.

I’ve gone from trying to rent a small apartment, alone, to staying in a luxurious space surrounded by three of the most beautiful men I’ve ever met.

I have to be in the Twilight Zone.