Page 24 of Hot Knot Summer
“What’s with that mischievous smirk? You look like you just figured out the perfect plot twist for your next villain,” a male says, drawing my attention.
Startled, I glance, and there he is. Atlas, leaning against a massive black pickup truck that’s parked super close to the hospital entrance. The morning sun hits him in a way that should be illegal, casting golden highlights through his dark hair and accentuating the sharp angles of his face. His uniform shirt is partiallyunbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing tantalizing tanned skin and that mysterious wooden charm on its leather cord.
Great. Just what I need. Alpha McHotterson, here to witness the continuation of my humiliation tour.
“Not murder,” I say automatically. “Arson, apparently. Might as well perfect my technique since I’m already a suspect.”
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “That’s not funny.”
“Yet you’re almost smiling,” I counter, shifting my backpack to my other arm. The weight of it suddenly feels like it contains bricks rather than the few possessions that survived the fire. “What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have fires to fight? Cats to rescue from trees? Calendar photoshoots to pose for?”
His eyebrow lifts at that last one, and I immediately want to melt into the pavement. Why do I always default to sarcasm when I’m uncomfortable? And why does he smell so impossibly good even from ten feet away? Woodsmoke, maple, and toasted sugar sweetness that makes my stupid Omega brain sit up and take notice, completely ignoring thenot interested in Alphasmemo I’ve been trying to circulate.
“I came to check on you,” he says simply.
“You did?” The softness in my voice betrays me, and I immediately straighten my spine. “I mean, that’s... unnecessary. I’m fine. All good. Ship-shape and Bristol fashion, as my grandmother would say.”
I can almost hear Gran’s words in my head, the wayshe’d use that phrase whenever I’d come downstairs for school with my uniform perfectly pressed. She’d learned it from my grandfather, who spent years working on fishing vessels before settling down. It was her highest form of approval—nothing was better than beingship-shape and Bristol fashionin Gran’s world. The memory brings a pang of longing; she’d know exactly what to say right now to make this disaster seem manageable. She’s been gone for three years, and I miss her terribly.
I try to step past him but realize I have absolutely no idea where I’m going. I’m in a town where apparently every accommodation is booked. I stop, pivot awkwardly, then stop again, resembling nothing so much as a malfunctioning wind-up toy.
“Where are you heading?” he asks, pushing off from his truck.
“That’s a little creepy,” I blurt out. “Like, serial killer level of interest in my whereabouts.”
Instead of being offended, he actually laughs. “I spoke with your real estate contact this morning.”
“You did what?” I stare at him.
“And a few other rental agencies in town,” he continues, as if invading my privacy is completely normal. “I wanted to make sure you had options, considering you need to stay in town until the investigation is complete.”
My mouth falls open, stunned, unable to believe his thoughtfulness. “I… you... why would you do that?”
“Because it’s tourist season, and the town is atcapacity.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and I absolutely do not notice how it makes his biceps flex against the fabric of his shirt. “And because the cabin you were staying in belongs to Martin Greene, who isn’t exactly known for his customer service skills.”
“So, you’re what? The town welcome committee?” I tease. “Firefighter by night, fairy godfather by day?”
“Just trying to help.” He shrugs those ridiculous shoulders. “Plus, you still smell like smoke.”
I self-consciously tug at Chad’s jacket. “Not all of us can roll out of bed looking and smelling like we just stepped out of a cologne commercial,” I mutter.
His mouth twitches again. “You think I look like a cologne model?”
“That is not what I said.” I push a strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous habit I’ve never been able to break. “I’m just saying some of us had our possessions incinerated last night and haven’t had a chance to freshen up.”
“So, where are you going now?” he asks again, more gently this time.
“To see Martin Greene and figure out my options,” I say with far more confidence than I feel. “I’m sure there’s been some mistake about me needing to stay in town. I mean, it’s obvious I didn’t start that fire.”
Atlas’s expression shifts slightly. “The investigation is standard procedure. And trust me, you don’t want to deal with Martin right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s already telling everyone in town thathisnightmare Omega tenantburned down his best rental cabin.”
My stomach drops through the pavement. “He’s what?”
“I tried to set him straight, but he’s...” Atlas trails off.
