Page 27 of Hot Knot Summer
“Just an Atlas thing,” he says simply, and I can’t believe this guy is real.
Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words, something dangerous that I need to squash immediately. I’ve made the mistake of falling for Alpha charm before, and I’m not about to do it again, especially not with one who smells like everythingI’ve ever wanted and looks like he stepped out of one of my novels.
We pull up to a small office building withGreene Propertieson a weathered sign out front. My stomach clenches with anxiety.
“Ready?” Atlas asks, turning off the engine.
“No, but let’s do this, anyway.” I take a deep breath and push open the door, nearly falling out of the truck in my haste to get out. Atlas is there in an instant, steadying me with a hand on my elbow that sends electricity shooting up my arm.
“Careful,” he murmurs, his face close enough that I can see flecks of lighter blue in his dark eyes.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, stepping back. “Just... gravity and I have a complicated relationship.”
His lips quirk. “I’ve noticed.”
We walk into the office side by side. A bell jingles overhead, announcing our arrival. Behind a cluttered desk sits a balding man with ruddy cheeks and a permanent scowl that deepens when he looks up and sees me.
“Hello, I’m Emma Collins. I’m looking for Mr. Greene,” I say, figuring I should come across civil.
“You,” he spits, jabbing a finger in my direction. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here after what you did to my property!”
“Mr. Greene,” Atlas commands, his voice taking on an authoritative tone I haven’t heard before, but I like it more than I should. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“No misunderstanding,” Martin Greene snaps. “I rented my best cabin to her and her boyfriend, and twelve hours later, it’s a pile of ashes!”
I cringe. “Ex, he’s my ex-boyfriend. And I didn’t start that fire,” I say, stepping forward. “And I nearly died in it, in case you forgot that part.”
“Convenient story,” he sneers.
“Excuse me?” My voice rises an octave. “You think I what? Deliberately set fire to your cabin while I was inside it? For what possible reason?”
“Insurance scam,” he suggests immediately. “Looking for a payout.”
“On a rental cabin?” I laugh incredulously. “That’s not how insurance works. And I’m a writer, not a con artist.”
“Same thing if you ask me,” he mutters.
“No one asked you,” I snap, my patience evaporating. “Look, I understand you’re upset about your property?—”
“Upset?” He stands up, face flushing darker. “That cabin brings in six thousand dollars a week during festival season! Do you have any idea how much money I’m losing while it’s being rebuilt?”
“Again, not my fault,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I almost died. You know, just for perspective on what’s really important here.”
“All I know is I’ve got a cabin in ashes and probably from something you did!” He jabs his finger toward me again.
My blood runscold. “What?”
Atlas places a hand on my shoulder. “The investigation is still ongoing, Martin. No one is making any accusations yet.”
“I am,” Martin says to me. “And I’ve told everyone in town to steer clear of renting to you. One business burned down is enough.”
“Are you kidding me?” I practically shriek. “You’re blacklisting me based on what? A hunch? Your expert opinion as an amateur fire investigator?”
“Based on protecting my colleagues’ property,” he retorts. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual paying customers to help. Ones who don’t have a habit of leaving smoldering ruins in their wake.”
“This is ridiculous,” I sputter. “I need a place to stay, and the police have told me not to leave town.”
“Not my problem.” He sits back down and pointedly opens a folder, ignoring me.
