Page 57 of Hot Knot Summer
“No!” I blurt, then scramble to recover. “Definitely not.” I need to change the subject before I spontaneously combust. “I don’t know how to thank you enough. This is seriously incredible.”
I move toward the bed, pushing aside one of the gauzy curtains to sit on the edge. The mattress is perfect—supportive but plush, like sleeping on a supportive cloud.
“I have to ask,” I say, desperate to redirect the conversation. “What’s with your Dr. Pepper love? Most people I know think it’s the weird cousin of the soda family.”
Levi hesitates for a moment, then comes to sit beside me on the bed. Not close enough to touch, butclose enough that I’m acutely aware of every inch of him.
“Want to know a secret?” he asks, his voice lower, more intimate.
I nod, relieved by the conversational lifeline.
“My mom used to love it,” he reveals, rolling his can between his palms. “When I was a kid, maybe six or seven, I’d sneak into the kitchen at night and steal sips from her stash in the back of the fridge.” His expression softens with the memory, making him look younger and more open. “She always knew. Would complain to my dad about the mysteriously disappearing soda, and he’d get all defensive because he hated the stuff. Meanwhile, I’d be sitting there, trying not to giggle and give myself away.” He shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping. “Every single time, she’d wink at me when he wasn’t looking. Our little conspiracy.”
The image of a small, serious-faced Levi trying to suppress his giggles makes something warm unfurl in my chest. “That’s adorable.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, but I can tell the memory means more to him than he’s letting on. “Now, it’s just habit. Comfort in a can, I guess.”
“The best traditions usually start as accidents,” I tell him. “The ones that remind you of people you love.”
His eyes meet mine, and something electric passes between us, a current that feels too dangerous to examine closely.
“You can stay here as long as you need, you know,” he says, his gaze never leaving mine. “We’ve got plenty of space.”
“Thanks, but hopefully, it won’t be too long.” I try to sound casual, like I’m not hyperaware of how close we’re sitting, how his scent is wrapping around me. “Just until they figure out what caused the fire, and I can sort out my next steps.”
“About that.” He leans back slightly, one arm braced behind him on the bed. The movement stretches his Henley across his chest in a way that should be illegal. “Atlas has been pushing them to prioritize it.”
“Really?” I’m genuinely surprised. “That’s... unexpectedly kind of him.”
The smile that spreads across Levi’s face is nothing short of sinful. “I don’t see the rush, do you?”
There’s something in his tone, a dark undercurrent of suggestion that makes slick pool between my thighs ridiculously fast. It’s the voice of an Alpha who knows exactly what he wants and is simply waiting for the right moment to take it.
And God help me, that voice does things to me that I should ignore.
“I—” My voice catches, and I have to take a sip of Dr. Pepper to cover the momentary lapse. “I suppose there’s something to be said for taking one’s time.”
His eyes darken fractionally, and I watch, transfixed, as he stands smoothly and walks, no, prowls, to the bookshelf. He trails his fingers alongthe spines of the books, the gesture somehow both casual and deliberately sensual.
“You’re going to sleep better knowing I built this room for you,” he says, glancing back at me. His voice is low, almost gravelly. “That’s what matters to me.” He moves away from the bookshelf and pauses beside me again, deliberately close. “Oh, I almost forgot. There are some clothes in the dresser for you. Nothing fancy, just basics, t-shirts, sweatpants, a couple of hoodies. Until we can get some clothes.”
I blink up at him, momentarily thrown by this casual statement. “You... bought me clothes?”
“We all did,” he says, but there’s something in his expression that makes me think he was the driving force. “Figured you’d need more than what was in your backpack.”
“Thank you,” I manage, the words inadequate for the tightness in my chest. “That’s incredibly thoughtful.”
He smiles, that small dimple appearing again. “That’s what a pack does, Emma. We take care of our own.”
The implication that I might somehow be included in that ‘our own’ category sends a confused, pleasant warmth through me. Before I can respond, his phone chirps in his pocket.
He checks it and sighs. “River. I need to take this.”
I nod, strangely disappointed as he moves toward the door.
“I’ll let you get settled,” he says, pausing in thedoorway. “Bathroom’s directly across the hall if you need it. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink.”
“Thanks,” I say, forcing a casual smile. “For everything.”
