Chapter 197: Morning in Oakhaven

NORA’S POV

Pale morning sunlight crept through the floral curtains of my childhood bedroom, painting soft golden stripes across the faded quilt.

The room was cool and quiet, except for the steady sound of breathing beside me.

I blinked awake, smiling before my eyes even fully opened.

Knox was sprawled across most of my bed, his massive frame dwarfing the wooden mattress frame.

One of his thick, muscular arms was wrapped tightly around my waist, pinning me flush against his warm chest. His bare shoulders were uncovered, radiating heat like a furnace in the chilly mountain air.

I shifted slightly, trying to turn toward him without waking him.

The moment I moved, Knox let out a low, sleepy rumble.

His arm tightened around my waist, hauling me right back against him until my back was pressed flat against his ribs.

"Don’t even think about escaping, Bennett," he murmured into the crook of my neck. His voice was rough and thick with sleep, vibrating straight through my skin.

I let out a soft laugh, turning my head on the pillow to look at him.

His dark hair was completely rumpled, sticking up in messy tufts. His sleep-softened gray eyes blinked open, blinking against the morning glare before locking onto my face with lazy affection.

"Good morning to you too, captain," I teased, reaching up to smooth down a stubborn strand of hair over his forehead. "You took up about eighty percent of this bed last night."

"You didn’t seem to mind when your cold feet were tucked under my calves," Knox countered smoothly.

A faint smirk touched the corner of his lips.

He shifted his weight, rolling onto his side to face me properly.

Before I could fire back with a witty comeback, Knox leaned in and caught my lips with his.

The kiss started slow and lazy, tasting like warm sleep and quiet morning comfort.

He rested one large hand against the side of my neck, his thumb stroking my jawline as his mouth moved over mine with unhurried sweetness.

I melted instantly.

I slid my fingers into his thick hair, arching into his touch as the slow kiss deepened.

Knox groaned low in his throat.

His hand slid down from my jaw to my hip, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

The lazy kiss turned possessive, his lips parting mine with deliberate heat.

The quiet bedroom suddenly felt ten degrees warmer. My heart fluttered in my chest, a familiar wave of electric heat rushing through my veins as his chest pressed firmly against mine.

Knox shifted his leg over mine, his hips nudging forward, letting me feel the hard, unmistakable ridge pressing against the front of his sweatpants.

"Knox..." I breathed against his mouth in a raspy and breathless voice.

He didn’t stop.

His lips trailed down from my mouth to the sensitive spot beneath my ear, his stubble grazing my skin and sending goosebumps rippling down my arms.

"Stay right here," he whispered against my throat, his hands gripping my waist with solid strength. "We don’t have anywhere to be."

As much as I wanted to lose myself in his arms, reality came rushing back.

I gently placed both palms against his firm chest, tilting my head back to look at him.

"Knox, relax," I whispered, fighting the breathless smile tugging at my lips. "Remember, this is not the SinBin or my dorm apartment. My mom can hear us."

Knox paused, his lips hovering an inch above my collarbone.

A wicked, arrogant grin spread across his face. "I can be very quiet, Bennett. You’re the one who tends to make noise."

I gasped, swatting his shoulder. "Knox Sheridan!"

Right on cue, two sharp raps echoed against the wooden bedroom door.

Knock, knock.

I jumped, my heart leaping straight into my throat.

Knox froze, burying his face in my pillow to smother a sudden burst of laughter.

"Nora? Knox?" Mom’s cheerful voice drifted through the door. "Fresh coffee is brewing downstairs in the bakery if you two sleepyheads are awake!"

I shoved Knox’s chest, scrambling to sit up and smooth down my tangled hair.

"Thanks, Mom!" I called out, clearing my throat to sound as normal as possible. "We’re awake! We’ll be down in a few minutes!"

"Take your time, sweetie! There are warm cinnamon rolls on the prep counter!"

Her footsteps padded down the hallway, followed by the quiet creak of the wooden stairs that led directly down to the bakery.

I collapsed back against the pillows, blowing out a long breath.

Beside me, Knox was propped up on one elbow, his chest shaking with silent, unrepentant amusement.

"See?" he drawled, winking at me. "Your mom loves me. She’s already feeding us."

"You’re impossible," I muttered, but I couldn’t keep the fond smile off my face.

I rolled out of bed, the cool wooden floorboards shocking my bare feet.

"Come on," I said, tossing him a clean thermal shirt from his duffel bag. "Let’s get dressed before she comes back up with second helpings."

Ten minutes later, we were both showered and dressed for a crisp winter day.

Knox wore dark jeans, sturdy work boots, and a thick flannel shirt over his thermal, looking effortlessly rugged.

I pulled on a chunky cream knit sweater, fleece-lined leggings, and my winter boots, twisting my hair into a neat braid.

We walked down the narrow back hallway of the apartment and pushed through the solid wooden door that led down the private stairwell.

Unlike most houses, our living quarters sat directly above the ground-floor commercial space.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, the rich, intoxicating aroma of roasted coffee beans, warm yeast, and sweet cinnamon filled the air.

We pushed through the swinging kitchen doors and stepped into the heart of Sugar & Spice.

The bakery was closed for the holiday weekend, giving the large kitchen an unusually peaceful, quiet atmosphere.

Morning light poured through the tall front display windows, illuminating the polished stainless steel prep tables, vintage brass flour scales, and wooden rolling pins hanging neatly along the pegboards.

Knox stopped in his tracks, looking around the expansive space with genuine reverence.

"So this is where the magic happens," he said softly, his deep voice echoing slightly off the tiled walls.

"This is it," I replied, feeling a swell of pride in my chest.

I took his hand, leading him toward the center island where a massive wooden butcher-block table stood.

"My dad built this table by hand when I was three years old," I explained, running my fingertips over the worn maple surface. "See this spot right here?"

I pointed to a scuffed wooden milk crate tucked beneath the shelf.

"I used to stand on that exact crate when I was six," I said with a nostalgic smile. "Dad would give me a tiny lump of sourdough dough and teach me how to knead it without tearing the gluten. I’d stand here for hours until my forearms burned, pretending I was the head pastry chef."

Knox looked down at the milk crate, then up at me.

His gray eyes softened with profound tenderness.

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb gently brushing my cheek.

"You were always meant to do this, Bennett," he said quietly. "It’s in your blood."

I smiled, leaning into his touch.

Then, I turned and pointed toward the far brick wall near the storage room.

The old electric deck ovens that had broken down weeks ago had already been dismantled and pushed aside, leaving a wide, clean patch of exposed brick.

"And that," I said, my voice brightening with excitement, "is where the new commercial stone-deck hearth oven goes. The one we bought with the tournament money."

Knox walked over to the brick wall, running his hand along the sturdy foundation.

"It’s going to fit perfectly," he said, turning back to me with an unmistakable look of proud satisfaction. "You and your mom earned every inch of this."

"We couldn’t have done it without our favorite grip," I teased, stepping up beside him.

Knox wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. "I’m keeping that title on my resume."

"Morning, you two!"

Mom walked in through the front swinging doors from the retail counter, carrying two steaming ceramic mugs.

She wore her favorite faded cardigan over a denim shirt, looking well-rested and completely unburdened for the first time in years.

"Here’s fresh coffee," Mom said, handing a mug to Knox and one to me. "And there’s a plate of warm cinnamon rolls on the display case if you’re hungry."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bennett," Knox said politely, taking the mug with both hands.

"Mom, we were actually thinking of going for a walk," I said, taking a warm sip of the dark roast. "I want to show Knox around Oakhaven."

Mom’s face lit up with delight.

"Oh, what a wonderful idea!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Make sure you bundle up, though. The wind off the mountain pass is biting today. Don’t worry about lunch, either; there are plenty of Thanksgiving leftovers in the fridge whenever you get back."

"Thanks, Mom," I said, giving her a quick one-armed hug. "We won’t be too long."

We grabbed our winter coats and gloves from the hooks by the front door.

Knox held the front glass door open for me, the small brass bell chiming merrily above our heads as we stepped out onto the snowy sidewalk of Main Street.