Page 77 of Hot Knot Summer
“My turn,” River announces, dragging us toward a strength-test game with a hammer and bell. He makes a show of stretching before taking the hammer, winking at a small group of children watching nearby.
“Witness greatness, kids,” he says with theatricalseriousness, then brings the hammer down with impressive force. The puck shoots up the tower and strikes the bell with a satisfying clang. The children cheer, and River takes a mock bow before selecting another stuffed animal, this one a tiger with an improbable purple stripe, and adding it to my collection.
“Not to be outdone,” Levi says dryly, leading us to a game involving throwing baseballs at stacked milk bottles.
Unlike the others, Levi takes his time at the game, circling the booth to examine the setup from different angles. His gaze narrows slightly.
His first throw sails just past the edge of the pyramid, missing by mere inches.
“Ohhh, so close!” River calls out, hand cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. “The notorious Levi first-throw curse strikes again!”
Atlas chuckles, crossing his arms. “Every time. You’d think after five years he’d have figured out you always throw too high on the first shot.”
“Says the man who couldn’t hit water if he fell out of a boat last year,” Levi responds dryly, but there’s a spark of competitive fire in his eyes I haven’t seen before.
“That was because of the wind!” Atlas protests with mock outrage. “And I had the sun in my eyes.”
“It was cloudy, and the booth was covered,” River stage whispers to me, earning a glare from Atlas.
“Twenty bucks says you can’t knock them all downwith your remaining throws,” Atlas challenges, changing the subject.
Levi’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “Make it fifty.”
“You’re on.”
I watch, fascinated, as he adjusts his stance ever so slightly. The teasing seems to fuel him rather than throw him off. He takes a measured breath, then releases the second ball with a powerful throw. It connects with the bottom right bottle with a thwack, sending the entire structure wobbling, but three bottles remain standing.
“You got this, Levi,” I encourage, bouncing on my toes and hugging the stuffed prizes in my arms.
“Last throw, Wolfe,” River singsongs. “No pressure, but Emma needs that stuffed bear to complete her collection.”
Levi’s eyes flick to me, and I give him an encouraging smile.
“You are going to smash it,” I tell him.
That earns me a full smile that transforms his entire face. He turns back to the booth, ball in hand, takes one more look, then throws with ferocity. The ball hits the exact center of the remaining bottles, sending them flying with such force that one nearly takes out the booth operator’s hat.
“Physics,” Levi says simply, accepting a crisp fifty-dollar bill from Atlas with a satisfied nod and a stuffed bear wearing glasses and a bowtie from the impressed operator. He presents the bear to me with a small bow. “For you, my sweet thing. I believe the proper terminology is ‘boom’.”
River howls with laughter, slapping Levi on the back. “Did you just trash talk? Our Levi? Atlas, I think we’re witnessing evolution in real time!”
I accept the bear, balancing the growing mountain of plushies in my arms. “Thank you,” I murmur, rising on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. His skin is warm against my lips, and I linger a moment longer, inhaling his clean, distinctive scent, loving how he smells. When I pull back, there’s a flush on my cheeks. And with each of the Alphas watching me, I say, “These are getting a bit unwieldy,” I admit as the wolf slides sideways, threatening to topple the entire stuffed animal tower in my arms. The carnival prizes are big, each nearly the size of my torso, and I’m starting to resemble a walking plushie shop.
“I’ve got it,” Atlas states, plucking the wolf from my stack before it can fall.
“And I’ll take this handsome fellow,” River adds, rescuing his tiger. “Can’t have him suffering the indignity of hitting the ground.”
Levi carefully adjusts the bear in my remaining arm. “Better?”
“Perfect,” I reply. “Though if you guys win me any more prizes, we might need to rent a van just for stuffed animals.”
“Speaking of which, let’s put these in the truck,” River suggests, already cradling his tiger.
By the time we’ve put the gifts away, we startworking our way through half the game booths. I’m smiling despite everything. It’s been so long since I’ve just had fun, since I’ve let myself be silly and carefree without worrying about deadlines, relationships, or the constant pressure to be enough.
“Having a good time?” Atlas asks, his deep voice sending butterflies through my stomach as he steps close enough that our arms brush. The casual contact shouldn’t affect me so strongly, but my skin prickles with awareness where we touch.
I nod, surprised to realize it’s true. “Yeah, I am. Thanks for this. For all of it.”
