Page 17 of They Love Me Knot (Starsfalls Omegaverse #2)

Daphne

W hat kind of heavy-ass flowers did Poppy pick up from the Lucky Anemone. I almost drop a crate on my foot for the fifth time this morning, grabbing the crate just in time so I don’t irreparably mangle my toes.

I heft the box onto the rolling cart and take a breath before turning to pull another one out of the van.

It was nice of Poppy to get up early and pick up our order, but now I’m kind of wishing we had traded spots. Then I could have had a pleasant morning drive, sipping my coffee, and left the van for Poppy to unload.

Instead, I’m the one risking toe and limb, while Poppy is off to pick up the rest of the flowers from Flower Gully.

I huff in disgust thinking about Flower Gully. Sure, the farm was nice, but now it’s tainted.

It was convenient that Poppy offered to pick up their flowers unprompted.

When I got back to Queen of Hearts yesterday, Anicka wasn’t upset that I didn’t bring back as many flowers as we were expecting. She was happy with Flower Gully offering to have the rest of them ready for us this morning .

I guess Ciro never said anything to her about our confrontation, which is the one good decision I’ve seen him make.

Although everything was his fault, so he’s the one who looks bad in that story. It makes sense he didn’t mention what happened, it’s simple self-preservation. Nothing to do with sparing me by not mentioning he found a half-dressed woman taking flowers from the farm.

Besides, Ciro recognized me from the alley. He should have realized I work at Queen of Hearts rather than assuming (like an ass) that I’m casing all the flower places in Starsfalls to steal from them.

He didn’t handle things well, carrying me off like that…

Very uncouth. And inappropriate. And I wasn’t into it at all.

After I got back to town yesterday, I realized I had forgotten my sweater, so that’s another thing to blame on him. I had to tear out of there in such a rush, I left my sweater and some buckets, shears, and clippers behind.

I struggle to move another crate to the cart, hot and bothered thinking about stupid Ciro, and just as I’m about to set it down, it slips and hits the box below.

The wooden lid pops off, and I’m assaulted by yarrow as they spring from the box, emerging like they’ve just been released from a denim prison after watching Anti-Gravity Alien Ass 69 .

No wonder these crates are so heavy, they’re packed full, every inch filled. Lucky box.

I try to lift the crate onto the stack despite not being able to see over the flowers in my face. But their attack continues, and now I can’t breathe as the spicy-sweet yarrow pollen invades my nose.

A sudden sneeze wracks my body, and it’s all I can do not to drop the flowers or hurt my back as the sneezes keep coming.

I wobble, but before I tip over, the crate is lifted from my arms and placed on the cart.

I don’t have time to thank my rescuer before another sneeze hits, but at least now I’m free to sneeze into my elbow.

A tattooed arm appears, holding out a black handkerchief, and a large hand pets the back of my hair.

“Here, kitten. Let’s fix you up,” a deep voice says.

I straighten up, alarmed that a stranger managed to sneak up on me.

I thought it was Anicka or maybe Poppy who helped me.

Instead, it’s a large beta in a black leather jacket.

Tattoos peek out from his V-neck shirt, and his hands are covered in more black ink, some kind of mechanical design I can’t make sense of, too stunned by his sudden appearance and rugged good looks.

Despite my surprise, I follow his instructions, reaching for the handkerchief so I can make sure my face isn’t snotty.

But before I can take it, he brings it up to dab at my nose, hand cradling the back of my head.

The beta’s intense concentration is mesmerizing. He’s focused like he’s performing delicate surgery, brow furrowed while he gently blots my face.

I’ve been holding onto his arm while he tends to me, letting him do what he wants without complaint.

When he’s done cleaning off the pollen (and maybe snot, I guess), he leans back to look at me.

“All better. How do you feel?” he asks.

“I’m great. Good. You’re welcome. Thank you.”

I have trouble jumpstarting my brain with his face so close, looking into those sweet chocolate cake eyes.

What were we talking about again? The weather ?

He gives me a crooked smile, and I realize I’m staring at him like some sort of shocked owl.

I should be doing…something.

I think.

I don’t remember what, but I do know I don’t want to be someone who stands around staring at any attractive guy I come across. No matter how nice his tattoos look as they lovingly curl across his chest or how messy his brown hair is, like he just took off a helmet.

Did he just take off a motorcycle helmet?

No, don’t picture that, or I’ll never get out of here.

I take a step back since physically distancing myself seems like the best course of action to pull my mind out of the gutter.

His arms flex, and I’m distracted again, so when something knocks into the back of my legs, I don’t even consider trying to save myself.

I crumple.

I don’t hit the ground though. The beta catches me and holds me around the waist, keeping me upright.

I remain limp, hands resting on his chest.

That was not a swoon.

“Careful. It might be time to take a break. I can unload the rest of these for you,” he says.

I nod obediently, and he smiles before setting me on the edge of the trunk. After ensuring I’m steady, he unloads the rest of the crates.

I watch with rapt attention, especially after he takes off his jacket and tosses it next to me, unveiling more tattoos.

Now that I’m not so stupefied, I recognize the shapes as machinery parts, nuts and bolts and other pieces I don’t have a name for, like a schematic.

The black ink covers his arms and hands, all the way down to the tips of his fingers .

He goes back and forth, bending over, muscles bulging as he lifts the boxes.

“Where do I take these?” he asks, leaning against the arm of the cart.

I blink and look behind me at the empty van, finding he’s unloaded all the boxes already.

“Oh! Thanks. I can take it from here, you’ve done enough already,” I say, hopping off my perch.

I zoned out while watching him, and now I’m embarrassed I let him take over. I don’t even know this guy, and I’m letting him manhandle my flower. I mean flowers. Not my flower. I don’t even refer to it as a “flower” anyway.

I close the van slowly. He hasn’t left yet, and I’m not sure how to get rid of him politely.

Actually, I’m not sure if I want him to leave.

My plan really was to avoid alphas, and he’s a beta, so that’s not breaking my self-imposed alpha hiatus…

“It’s not a problem. I can unload them if you point me in the right direction,” he says.

I suppose I can take a little more time to decide whether I want to scare him off.

“Just through here,” I say, leading us to the back door of Queen of Hearts.

I stumble as I finally take my eyes off him long enough to see a large, shiny black motorcycle at the end of the alley.

I was right about the helmet hair.

But I can’t let that waylay me. I unlock the door before I start picturing how he looks riding the bike.

He grabs it and holds the door open for me to enter first, pulling the cart in after us.

I take him to our walk-in fridge where he unloads the boxes, and once again I let him do all the work because he told me to keep resting .

By the time he’s done, I still haven’t decided if I want to spend more time with him or not.

I don’t know why I’m thinking so hard about this. He probably doesn’t care about me other than helping a fellow townsperson in trouble, and even betas have a latent sense compelling them to help and protect omegas. I’m sure it has nothing to do with me specifically.

Rugged guys like him have never been interested in me. My exes were your typical business bros. None of them had tattoos or rode motorcycles or helped carry my things.

Wait, they never helped me carry things?

I wrack my brain, trying to remember the times my exes helped me. I can’t think of anything specific, but surely they were kind and helpful. There just wasn’t anything major I needed help with, so of course it wouldn’t be memorable when they did everyday things like hold a door open for me or…

Did they ever hold doors open for me? Not that my partners have to, but it is a polite thing to do. My exes must have opened doors for me over the years. I can’t have been the one opening doors every time, letting them walk through ahead of me.

Plenty of memories of me opening doors pop up.

Oh sure, those come to mind easily.

When I moved from Nerium to Artemisia, I packed up all my things by myself and drove the moving truck.

My exes didn’t help with any of that. They didn’t help me unpack either, even though I moved there to be with them.

Plus, they relocated without asking me, and I was left to follow along behind them.

I should have realized then that we weren’t right for each other, but I’ve always been independent. I just continued taking care of myself after we started dating, never stopping to think that a relationship should provide support.

Although I accepted this beta’s help gracefully, with little thought to my independent nature.

Speaking of which, he finished unloading the boxes a while ago and has been watching me while I have an internal debate.

At least I hope it was internal. Poppy said I was talking to myself out loud the other day, and I’ve been stressed recently because of my several awkward alpha run-ins, so it’s possible I was talking out loud again just now.

When he sees I’m no longer lost in thought, he smiles at me. Even my mouth wants to follow his lead, and I find myself with an answering smile.

“I’m sure new doors will open for you,” he says, still with that warm smile.

Fuck.

That doesn’t even tell me how much of what I was thinking made it out of my mouth. Did I just say something about no doors being opened for me, or did I mention my exes and how they didn’t seem to care for me at all except for what my body could do for them and how I’m only realizing that now?

The smile melts off my face, no longer trying to charm this handsome beta who is likely just another door to heartbreak. Though at least he’d hold the door open for me.

“Well, thanks for your help. You know where the door is…” I say awkwardly. Too much door talk, but there’s no fixing that now.

I force myself to look away from the striking figure he cuts in his dark shirt and worn jeans. We’re surrounded by shelves of colorful flowers, but somehow he draws the eye more than any of the flashy blooms.

His smile dims briefly, but he nods. “Alright, kitten. Let me know if you ever need help. I ride by often, so I’d be happy to stop in.”

“Sure,” I say.

But I won’t.

He traces a finger along the outline of the phone in his pocket, but I keep my face averted, and he gives up without asking for my number.

He follows me out of the fridge and back the way we came. I lean in the doorway, watching him walk down the alley to his bike.

I start to feel guilty for dismissing him so quickly just because I assumed he has bad intentions.

If he is interested in me romantically, I could see how it goes.

Betas don’t have the intense drive to partner with an omega like alphas do, so it’s less likely that he only wants to be with me because of my designation.

I still have no interest in getting roped into a pack just because I’m an omega.

“Wait!” I call out before I end up waffling about my decision for so long that he leaves.

I’m going to get out of my head and do what feels right. No more thinking.

Starting now.