Page 48 of Knotting With A Stranger

“I find beauty in function,” I say simply. “What’s the point of a perfectly restored engine if you never hear it run?”

Something soft shifts in her expression as her mouth lifts into a beautiful smile. I have the distinct feeling of being reevaluated, recategorized from whatever initial box she’d placed me in.

The radio crackles and spits static as I adjust the frequency. “Martin should be in the shop today, assuming he hasn’t been snowed in himself.”

“And if he has?”

“Then we try again tomorrow. Storm’s not going anywhere.”

Her knuckles whiten where they grip the edge of the table. “Let’s do this.”

I dial out the store’s call sign, feeling Lily’s eyes on my profile. We wait several minutes with no response. She sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Maybe try once more?” she suggests, leaning closer until I can feel her warmth radiating against my side.

I oblige, repeating the call. Just as I’m about to give up, the speaker comes to life with a burst of static, followed by a gruff voice.

“Yesteryear receiving. That you, Archer? Over.”

Lily jolts forward, her hand landing on my thigh in her excitement. The sudden weight of it sends a jolt of fire straight to my cock, my balls drawing in. If she notices my sudden tension, she doesn’t show it.

“Martin, it’s Archer. I have someone here who needs to send a message to her sister in town. Over.”

More static, then, “Go ahead. Over.”

I hand Lily the microphone, our fingers grazing in the exchange. The contact lingers, neither of us pulling away until the radio crackles again impatiently.

“Hello?” Lily finally says. “This is Lily from Flour & Fable Bakery in Whispering Grove.”

“Well, I’ll be damned! Lily Parker!” Martin’s words boom through the speaker. “Your sister’s been raising hell all over town looking for you. Over.”

She laughs, the sound rich and warm against the backdrop of the howling storm. Her entire face transforms, worry lines smoothing away, eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s like watching the sun break through storm clouds.

“That’s why I’m calling,” she says. “Could you please tell Hannah that I’m safe? My car broke down in the storm, and I’m staying at a cabin until it passes.”

She glances at me, and I recite Hunter’s address, which she relays to Martin.

“I’m with,”—she hesitates, glancing at me again—“Archer and his friends. They helped me when my car died. Please tell her not to worry. I’m fine.”

“Will do, Miss Lily. Your sister will be relieved. That storm’s a nasty piece of work. You’re lucky our boy found you. Over.”

“Very lucky,” she agrees, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my blood simmer. “Thank you so much.”

She hands the microphone back, our fingers tangling together longer than necessary. I turn off the radio but make no move. We sit there, facing each other, my legs parted, so she’s almost nestled between them.

“Thank you,” she says again, softer. “At least now Hannah will just think I’ve been abducted by mysterious mountain men.”

I laugh, the sound rusty even to my own ears. “Is that what we are?”

“You tell me, rare book dealer with a private radio network and half a treasure map.” She twists a curl around her finger, the gesture unconsciously seductive. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting when a giant in a plaid shirt pulled me from my car.”

“And what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. More... backwoods? Less,”—her free hand waves vaguely in my direction—“elaborate cabin mansion.”

“Disappointed?”

“Intrigued,” she corrects. “It’s not every day a girl gets rescued by three Alphas who look like they could bench-press a moose but discuss literature over dinner.”

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