Knot Snowed in (Honeyridge Falls #4)

Chapter 1

Tessa

I’ve been Honeyridge Falls’ event coordinator for three years, which means I’ve perfected the art of convincing people to volunteer for things they didn’t know they wanted to do.

The folding chair beneath me creaks as I shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t make my lower back scream.

Town Hall’s meeting room is packed—standing room only, which would be gratifying if half these people weren’t here for the free coffee and Maeve’s cookies.

Snow-dusted coats hang on every available hook, and the radiator in the corner is working overtime against the January chill seeping through the old windows.

I’ve got my laptop open, color-coded spreadsheet glowing, backup plans A through D printed and stapled in my binder, and exactly seventeen minutes to recruit volunteers for the Valentine’s fundraiser before everyone remembers they have somewhere else to be.

Seventeen minutes. I can work with that.

“Alright, everyone!” I stand, clipboard in hand—the good clipboard, the one with the reinforced metal clip that doesn’t bend when I’m making aggressive check marks. “Thank you all for coming. I know you’re busy, so I’ll keep this brief and efficient.”

Maeve Bennett chuckles softly from her seat near the back. She’s wearing her Honey Crumb apron dusted with flour, silver hair in its usual soft bun. “Oh honey, we love you, but ‘brief’ isn’t in your vocabulary.”

A few people laugh. I ignore them. This is why I make lists—you can’t argue with a well-organized list.

“The Valentine’s fundraiser is in exactly four weeks,” I continue, tapping my pen against the clipboard.

Click. Click. Click. “We’re doing a bachelor auction again this year, proceeds going to the community center’s roof repair.

Last year we raised eight thousand dollars, and this year I’m projecting twelve thousand minimum if we—”

The door at the back opens, letting in a gust of cold air.

Ben Wilson walks in, snowflakes melting in his dark hair, and my train of thought derails spectacularly.

He’s in his usual work jeans and a flannel that’s definitely seen better days, cheeks flushed from the cold outside.

There’s a smudge of what looks like grease on his jaw.

His scent hits me even from across the room—leather and musk—and I lose my place in my notes.

Our eyes meet. His go wide. Then he sees my clipboard.

“Nope.” He turns around and walks straight back out into the cold, door swinging shut behind him.

The room erupts in laughter.

Heat floods my face. “That’s—he just—” My grip tightens. “Fine. Moving on. As I was saying, we need volunteers for setup, ticket sales, and obviously we need bachelors for the auction itself. Now, I have a preliminary list of candidates based on availability and—”

“I’ll do it.”

Milo Stone is leaning against the wall near the refreshment table, coffee cup in one hand, that easy smile on his face that probably gets him out of speeding tickets.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that does unfair things to his shoulders.

His scent—dark chocolate and amber—curls through the room, warm and inviting.

I blink at him. “You’ll... what?”

“The bachelor auction.” He pushes off the wall, moving with that relaxed confidence that comes naturally to him. “I’ll volunteer. Might be fun.”

“Oh. I—” Why is my brain short-circuiting? I literally just asked for volunteers. “That’s perfect. Thank you, Milo. I’ll add you to the list.”

“Anything for the community center’s roof.” His smile widens. “Plus, I’ve been told I clean up nice.”

Someone wolf-whistles. Milo winks.

My pen is tapping double-time now. Click-click-click-click. “Right. Excellent. So that’s one volunteer. We need at least eight total to make the numbers work, so if anyone else—”

“Elijah will do it.”

Levi Reyes speaks up from the third row, where he’s sitting next to Sadie Quinn and her pack, all of them still bundled in scarves. He’s got that knowing look on his face, the one that says he’s about to cause trouble for someone he cares about.

Beside him, his cousin Elijah Smith goes very, very still.

“I will?” Elijah’s voice is quiet, almost drowned out by the ambient noise.

He’s in his usual work wear—jeans and a henley, sawdust probably still in his dark blonde hair from whatever project he was working on today.

His scent is cedarwood and honey, grounding in a way that makes me want to breathe deeper.

“You will,” Levi confirms cheerfully. “You were just saying last week how you wanted to get more involved in community events.”

“I said I’d help build the stage.” Elijah looks mildly betrayed. “Not... perform on it.”

“Same thing.” Levi’s grin is absolutely shameless.

Sadie elbows her alpha gently. “Don’t torture your cousin.”

“Too late,” Caleb Maddox rumbles from her other side, looking amused.

I should intervene. This is my meeting, my event, and I need willing volunteers, not someone who looks like he’d rather face a firing squad than stand in front of a crowd while people bid on a date with him.

But we need numbers. And Elijah is—well. He’s steady and reliable and people in this town love him. He’d probably bring in decent bids. For the community center. Purely professional reasoning.

“Elijah, I can put you on the setup crew instead if you’d prefer,” I offer, trying to sound reasonable instead of desperate. “I don’t want anyone uncomfortable—”

“It’s fine.” He meets my eyes, and there’s something in his gaze I can’t quite read. Resigned? Determined? “I’ll do it. The auction.”

“You’re sure?”

He nods once, jaw set. “I’m sure.”

I add his name to my list with a careful check mark, ignoring the way my hand wants to shake slightly. Two volunteers. Two very attractive alpha volunteers who both smell far too good, and why am I even noticing that? I’m on suppressants. I’m always on suppressants.

Except—when did I take my last dose?

This morning. Definitely this morning. Or was it yesterday morning? My schedule’s been so packed lately, and I keep meaning to refill my prescription, but the pharmacy is only open during hours when I’m inevitably running between vendor meetings and venue confirmations and—

Focus, Tessa. You’re losing the room.

“Fantastic. So that’s Milo and Elijah confirmed.” I scan my spreadsheet, recalculating projected revenue with two volunteers already secured. “Now, for the event setup itself, I’ll need teams for decorations, sound system, seating arrangements, catering coordination with Maeve—”

“I’m not catering anything if you’re going to hover over me with that clipboard,” Maeve says with a warm smile. “I know how to make finger foods, sweetheart. Trust me a little.”

“I don’t hover.”

Multiple people cough “yes you do” into their fists.

“I delegate efficiently,” I correct, defensive. “There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh.” Maeve’s looking at me with that gentle omega wisdom that sees everything. “When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t coffee?”

“Coffee isn’t food.”

“That’s not an answer.”

River Brooks raises his hand from where he’s sitting with Bea Wilson and the rest of her pack. He’s got that golden-retriever energy that makes you want to like him even when he’s being annoying. “I’ll help with setup. I’m good with building stuff.”

“Brooks Hardware has a great track record with our events,” I acknowledge, making a note. “Thank you, River.”

“Plus, it’ll give me something to do while Ben hides from you in his garage.”

The room laughs again. My jaw tightens.

“Ben Wilson is not hiding from me,” I say evenly. “He’s busy running a business.”

“Right. That’s why he literally fled when he saw your clipboard.” Bea’s grinning, brown curls bouncing as she leans forward. “My brother’s many things, but subtle isn’t one of them.”

“Maybe he just forgot something in his truck,” I try.

“Or maybe he’s terrified you’ll add him to your bachelor auction list,” Milo suggests, voice warm with amusement. “Can’t blame the guy. You are kind of intimidating when you’ve got that clipboard.”

“I am not intimidating.” My pen is clicking rapid-fire now. “I’m organized. There’s a difference.”

“Intimidatingly organized,” someone mutters.

“Moving on.” I flip to the next page in my binder with more force than necessary. “Setup day is the thirteenth. I’ll need volunteers there at six a.m. sharp for—”

“Six a.m.?” Multiple groans echo through the room.

“Six a.m.,” I repeat firmly. “The event starts at seven p.m., which means we need the full day for proper setup and troubleshooting. I’ve created a detailed timeline with built-in buffer periods for unexpected delays.

Everyone will receive a color-coded packet with their specific responsibilities and check-in times. ”

“Of course they will,” Maeve says with warm affection. “Because Tessa Lang doesn’t do anything halfway.”

There’s something in her tone—affection mixed with concern—that makes my chest tighten. I ignore it. Focus on the spreadsheet. The timeline. The budget projections. Things that make sense, that I can control.

“Packet distribution will happen two weeks before the event,” I continue. “That gives everyone ample time to review their assignments and flag any conflicts. I’ll also be available via text, email, or phone for questions twenty-four-seven—”

“Tessa, honey.” Maeve’s voice gentles. “You need to sleep sometimes.”

“I sleep.”

“When?”

I don’t have a good answer for that. My apartment is right above my office. It’s efficient. And if I happen to work until two a.m. most nights because my brain won’t shut off, well, that’s just good time management.

“Can we stay on topic, please?” I tap my clipboard. “I have sixteen more items to cover, and we’re already four minutes behind schedule.”

Sheriff Liam Thorn speaks up from the back, arms crossed over his chest. He’s got the same steady presence as his younger brother Nate, though Liam’s is more authoritative. “What do you need from the department?”