Page 29 of They Love Me Knot (Starsfalls Omegaverse #2)

I agreed to Alister’s plan without protest because I finally formulated a plan of my own.

I’ll unload everything before Alister finishes his work so I can escape without further temptation.

I tap my foot impatiently as the elevator slowly descends.

It’s just my luck that not only was Alister here to greet me, he also wants to get physical (unloading the flowers).

My thighs quiver, and my butt vibrates just thinking about him. I certainly can’t be trusted alone with him, I already practically climbed him in the middle of his office.

And my butt is still vibrating just from that.

Oh wait, that’s my phone.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket as I step out onto the first floor. I go to put it on silent so I don’t get any more unnecessary stimulus, but see message notifications from Sterling and Kieran.

I pause and swipe to read their messages before I think better of it.

They’re excited about our date later, and their texts include promises of more flowers, cookies, and gifts.

This time it isn’t my phone making me tingle with excitement.

I fantasize about the big cookies they’re going to bring me, and the silky flowers with firm stems, and…

what else could they be bringing me? Perhaps some nice ribbon because they noticed I enjoyed sorting through our ribbon stash at Queen of Hearts to choose the perfect one for my bouquet?

“Do you want us to open the loading bay door for you?”

The guard’s voice startles me out of my fantasy of being covered in petals and crumbs, unable to do anything about it since I’m tied up in ribbons.

“What?” my voice comes out sultrier than I intended.

“Sorry, what was that?” I clear my throat and try again, sounding slightly less slicked up this time.

The guard smirks but repeats herself.

“That would be great, thanks.”

“It will just take a second,” she says, radioing someone to open the door for me.

That gives me time to reply to my texts, but I’m not sure how. It’s shitty to cancel a date so last minute. I shouldn’t have even agreed to it in the first place and given them false hope. They seem like nice enough alphas, they’re just not the ones for me.

No alpha is.

I have my beta now, plus I looked it up and betas can successfully ease an omega’s heat without any alphas (there were A LOT of fun toys that can be involved though…).

Now I just have to convince my omega that a beta’s all we need. Maybe if we go through a heat with him, she’ll see that.

In the meantime, I need to figure out this alpha mess.

I start typing in the hopes that something will come to me, the perfect sentence to get out of this date without hurting their feelings.

I reply thanking them for the things they already gave me and assuring them they don’t have to keep giving me things (though it hurts my cookie-loving heart to say so).

I haven’t thought of a way to let them down by the time the guard says the loading dock is ready for me.

This is it. This is all the time I have left before finishing this delivery and hurrying back to the store and then home to get ready for my first—no, my only —date of the evening.

I type out, “I’m sorry, but I have to,” pausing when an image comes through.

It takes up the whole screen, thick and lightly golden, white cream dripping down the side. The cookie is perfectly cooked, with firm edges and tons of frosting just like I like, peony petals sprinkled on top.

After I stop drooling over the monster cookie, I notice the message from Sterling that came through after.

I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t wait to show you this since you inspired it. I’ll give it to you later ;)

I’ve never received such an enticing picture from a guy before. I fumble and almost drop the phone in my haste to reply.

Can I see more of it?

After a second, another picture appears, giving me the full view. A counter filled with trays of cookies, cooling after being glazed.

They’re vanilla sugar cookies with infused sugar and vanilla bean paste, and stuffed with vanilla custard. I made them to taste like you.

I mean, smell like you taste.

That is, your scent inspired me to make a cookie with a heavy vanilla note, since it smelled so good on you I thought it would make a delicious vanilla-forward cookie.

I hope it’s okay that I based this recipe on you.

And I hope you like them.

The texts come through in quick succession.

I love them! I can’t wait to eat it later.

Them later .

I can’t cancel our date after cute messages like that. It’s so sweet and thoughtful.

Maybe I'll go on this one date, and Kieran and Sterling will realize they’re not that into me, and we’ll part amicably.

I’ll tell them all about myself, so they can see who I am and what my goals are. That should successfully show them we’re not compatible, and I won’t be the bad guy for rejecting them outright.

I thank the guard again for opening the loading doors and hurry out, remembering I need to get this delivery done fast.

I open the back of the van and hoist one of the larger arrangements into my arms, carefully backing up so I can close the doors with my hip.

I gasp as the flowers slip, my hands scrabbling to catch it, but I can’t find a grip on the smooth vase.

The weight suddenly comes off, and I manage a partial breath, inhaling the sweet herbal camellias. It’s such a comforting scent that I instinctively close my eyes.

“Watch yourself. You’re too small to handle something this big, princess.”

My eyes snap open at the condescending deep voice.

Ciro holds the flower bucket in the crook of his arm, smirking down at me from his great height.

He must have snuck up behind me and almost knocked me over so he could pick up the arrangement and play the hero.

Just because he can lift a forty-pound arrangement up that high and I can’t, doesn’t mean I’m not strong enough to do this alone.

I don’t need an alpha getting his enormous hands all over my stuff just so he can brag about what a good job he did.

“I’m not small! And I can handle lots of big things, I do it all the time.

I’ll have you know I’m five feet two inches tall, maybe three inches on a good day, and my generous physique was built by lifting flowers and eating cookies.

I’m not small ,” I say, repeating myself in my impassioned argument.

Ciro’s eyes narrow, but by the end of my lecture he’s smirking.

I don’t know why he’s smirking. It’s not my fault he’s a giant, and I’m not small no matter what he says, even if by comparison he’s much taller and broader than me.

I glare up at him.

“Whatever you say, princess. At least you looked cute trying,” he says with a smirk. “Now take off your shirt.”

My hands jump to do what he says, unbuttoning my blouse.

Ciro sets the flowers back in the van and lifts his own shirt off with one hand.

Well, this is one way to ease the tension between us…but wait! No, I don’t like him like that!

Or at least, I don’t like some of the things he says. His body is great, and he has some good ideas, like this one, but I’m not going to get with some hot asshole just because he’s upfront about his assholeness.

With his t-shirt off, his tanned, muscular torso is on display, a light trail of hair running from his bellybutton down to disappear into his jeans.

My mouth is hanging open, and I quickly snap it shut before he gets any ideas about that.

I tear my eyes away from his man chest, and after glancing down, I’m thankful I only made it halfway through following his order.

I quickly start re-buttoning, but Ciro’s hand on my arm stops me.

My gaze gets snagged on his chest when I go to turn my glare on him again, but eventually I lift my face up to his so he gets the full force of it.

“I’m not going to get undressed for you. Especially not in an alley ,” I spit out.

Ciro’s eyes crinkle like he’s silently laughing at me, but otherwise his face is impassive.

“We’re not getting undressed. I’m being a gentleman and giving you my shirt,” he says, holding his t-shirt out to me.

My glare briefly turns to squinty-eyed confusion, but I quickly bring the glare back.

“I don’t need your shirt, I have my own,” I say, pointing down to myself.

Ciro sighs and lets go of my arm to pluck at the bottom of my blouse, flicking it wetly against my stomach.

“Hey!” I exclaim, pushing his hand away.

“Your shirt’s all wet, princess. Take it off before you catch a chill,” he says.

Ciro pushes his shirt into my hand while I’m distracted looking down at myself in confusion.

“Put it on and meet me at the elevator. Bring one of the small arrangements,” he warns me sternly before grabbing the large arrangement and striding inside.

I frown after him. Is he…helping me?

I look back at my blouse and pull it away from my skin, shuddering as it clings to me until the suction releases with a wet pop.

Ugh, the water must have sloshed out when I almost dropped the vase. Unless Ciro jostled it so much when he took it out of my arms that it spilled all over me.

No, I can’t blame him for this. I vaguely recall feeling damp when the flowers first slipped.

I climb into the back of the van and shut the doors to change.

I hang my no longer frilly blouse on the back of the passenger seat and wave my arms around, trying to get my torso to dry off before putting his shirt on.

Today was a bad day to wear a white shirt without a bra. Tingles race through me at the sight I must have been (but should I be insulted Ciro was so quick to get me to cover up?).

I smush my face into Ciro’s shirt, rubbing the soft material against my face. You can feel the difference between a new shirt that was made to be soft and one that’s soft from the loving use it’s received over the years.

Maybe that’s why I’m not softer.

With a sigh, I pull his shirt over my head, the material brushing over my hard nipples. I hug it to myself, rubbing my hands over the smooth fabric.