Page 28 of Hot Knot Summer
“It will be your problem when the investigation proves I had nothing to do with it,” I say, leaning forward on his desk. “Because then I’ll be having a very interesting conversation with my lawyer about slander and defamation.”
It’s a complete bluff. I don’t have a lawyer on retainer, and the most legal experience I have is researching contract law for my third book, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Get out of my office,” he barks coldly.
“Gladly.” I spin around so fast, I nearly collide with Atlas’s chest. He steadies me again, his hands warm on my upper arms, and guides me out of the building.
The moment we’re outside, hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink them back furiously, refusing to cry in front of Atlas. Again.
“That absolute bastard,” I hiss, stalking toward his truck. “Did you hear him? He’s sabotaged any chance I had of finding a place to stay!”
Atlas unlocks the truck but doesn’t immediately open the door. “Sometimes what seems like the worst thing can turn out to be a blessing in disguise.”
“That’s your takeaway from this? Fortune cookie philosophy?”
“What I mean is,” he says patiently. “Now you don’t have to waste time checking other rental places. We can move straight to finding you an alternative.”
“There is no alternative,” I say, throwing up my hands. “You heard him—the town is full, and he’s told everyone I’m an arson risk!”
“Not everyone listens to Martin Greene,” Atlas says calmly. “Come on, let’s get you back to the station. You can clean up, get some rest, then we’ll figure this out.”
Too exhausted and frustrated to argue, I climb back into his truck, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Atlas slides in behind the wheel, seemingly unfazed by my outburst.
As we pull away from Greene Properties, my phone buzzes with a text from Jess.
Wait, back up. You ALMOST DIED last night in a FIRE, and this hunky firefighter SAVED YOU, and you’re sending me his info in case he MURDERS you? Girl, take your blinders off and see what’s right in front of you. Theuniverse is finally giving you an alternative to Chad’s cheating ass.
I glance at Atlas from the corner of my eye. The sunlight catches on his profile, highlighting the strong jaw and the focused intensity in his eyes as he drives. His scent, even mixed with the lingering smoke on my clothes, calls to something primal in me, something I’ve read about in books but never truly experienced.
Is Jess right? Is the universe trying to tell me something?
Or am I about to make the same mistake again, falling for an Alpha who will eventually decide I’m too much, too independent, too something to be what he wants?
As if sensing my scrutiny, Atlas glances my way, an electric moment before he returns his attention to the road.
“What?” he asks.
I quickly glance away, mortified at being caught staring. “Nothing. Just... thanks for the ride, I guess.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance down at Jess’s latest message.Girl, he’s gorgeous, AND he saved your life? This is literally the plot of your new book you need to write! Give the guy a chance!
I hurriedly type back.It ALWAYS starts this way—they rescue you, they’re charming, then they decide you’re too opinionated for an Omega, or your scent isn’t right, or whatever new excuse they’ll invent. Three strikes, remember? I’m done with Alphas.
The truth is, Atlas’s scent makes my entire bodyhum like a tuning fork that’s found its perfect pitch. But that scent compatibility didn’t save me from Jason’s criticism or Chad’s betrayal. If anything, it just makes the inevitable disappointment more painful when it comes.
No, I need to focus on finding temporary housing, clearing my name, and getting back to my manuscript. That’s the only relationship I can trust right now. The one between me and my words.
Besides, firefighters are probably the worst category of Alpha to fall for. All that heroic energy and protective instinct? Recipe for disaster for an independent Omega like me. Been there, burned the t-shirt, bought the heartbreak.
“We’re almost at the station,” Atlas explains, interrupting my thoughts. “You’ll feel better after a shower and some food.”
Despite all my mental warnings, a traitorous part of me already feels better just being near him.
6
RIVER
I’m leaning against the back of Levi’s chair, watching him organize his meticulously labeled folder system for the third time this week. The guy’s a certified genius with structural engineering, but sometimes I wonder if he’s got a touch of that obsessive-compulsive thing going on. His amber eyes narrow in concentration as he aligns each tab to perfect precision, the overhead lights catching the sharp angles of his cheekbones and that always-perfect undercut he maintains.
