Page 25 of Hot Knot Summer
“A misogynistic asshole?” I supply.
“I was going to sayupset about the property damage, but your description works, too.”
I groan, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes. “This is unbelievable. I’ve been in this town for less than twenty-four hours, and I’m already the local pariah.”
“Let them talk,” he says, his voice deepening with a hint of that commanding Alpha tone. “Anyone who matters will see exactly who you really are. The rest?” He shrugs those broad shoulders. “They don’t deserve your concern.”
The way he’s looking at me creates a swarm of butterflies in my stomach that I have no business feeling. It reminds me of how my characters look at each other in my books, as though they’re seeing something precious and rare, not how people look at me in real life.
“Let me give you a lift to Martin’s office,” he offers. “At least then you’ll have backup when you talk to him.”
I narrow my eyes. “And I should trust you, why exactly?”
“I’ve saved you twice so far.” He holds up two fingers. “That’s a pretty good track record.”
“Twice?”
“The fire. And the turbulence on the plane.” He grins, and it transforms his serious face into something so devastatingly attractive that I have to physically lock my knees to keep from swaying toward him.
“That doesn’t count,” I argue, even as my traitorous body remembers the feeling of his arm anchoring me during that terrifying drop.
“Three times if you count making sure you got medical attention,” he adds, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Fine,” I sigh, pulling out my phone. “But just so you know, I’m texting my friend your details right now, so she has a record of who I was last seen with if I disappear.”
“Smart,” he says approvingly, which is not the reaction I expected. He actually steps closer and poses next to his truck. “Make sure you get the license plate in the picture.”
I blink at him, then snap the photo, capturing him with the truck in the background. “You’re very accommodating for a potential ax murderer.”
“I prefer fire, actually. More dramatic.” He winks and opens the passenger door for me.
As I climb up—this truck is ridiculous—I send the picture to Jess with a message.If I go missing, this Alpha firefighter did it. Name: Atlas Wood. Currently driving me to real estate office. If no update in 1 hour, call authorities.
I settle into the passenger seat as Atlas walks around to the driver’s side. The interior of the truck is surprisingly neat and smells like him, and I want to lean closer and inhale deeply. Which would be extremely creepy and completely inappropriate.
As he starts the engine, my phone buzzes with Jess’s reply.OMG WHO IS THAT?!!! Is he single? If you don’t climb him like a tree, I will personally disown you.
I quickly angle my phone away as Atlas glances over, heat flooding my cheeks.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Just a funny meme,” I lie, shoving my phone into my backpack. “So, um, how long have you lived in Whispering Grove?”
“Born and raised,” he says, pulling out of the hospital parking lot. “Left for a few years, but came back when...” He hesitates briefly. “When the position at the fire station opened up.”
There’s a story there, but I don’t press. We all have our sore spots.
Atlas glances at my backpack, where the corner of my laptop is just visible. “You managed to save the most important thing, I see.”
My hand instinctively touches the backpack. “Yeah. Grabbed it in a panic before running out. Thank god for that automatic backup reflex. Five years of writing habits drilled into me after losing half a manuscript once to a power surge.”
“What are you working on now?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.
I hesitate, unused to genuine interest. “The fifth book in my series. I’m at that point where everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I question all my life choices.”
“That bad?”
“I need to kill off a character readers love, and I’ve been procrastinating for weeks.”
