Page 5 of Down Knot Out
“Breakfast is ready!” Holden calls out from the kitchen.
When Nathaniel doesn’t turn toward the house, I slip outside to fetch him.
As I step onto the porch, the crisp morning air wraps around me, carrying hints of pine and dew-soaked grass.
Sprinkles returns with the tennis ball, dropping it at Nathaniel’s feet and looking up expectantly with his tail wagging. Nathaniel bends to scratch behind the dog’s ears, murmuring praise, and the massive Newfoundland’s tail sweeps back and forth.
Then Sprinkles’s head turns, his nose lifting as he catches my scent. Our eyes lock, his deep, soulful, black ones and my wary, pink ones. My fingers tighten on the porch railing.
In an instant, the dog abandons Nathaniel and comes bounding toward me, all hundred-plus pounds of him moving with alarming speed. It’s no wonder I mistook him for a bear the first time wemet. My heart rockets into my throat, my pulse spiking as childhood fear takes hold.
I freeze in place, memories flashing of snarling teeth, hot breath, and pain tearing through my leg as I tried to escape.
“Sprinkles, sit!” Nathaniel’s authoritative voice cracks like a whip.
Sprinkles skids to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps, his massive backside dropping to the ground. He pants up at me, pink tongue lolling. While he doesn’t resemble the vicious dog from my childhood at all, his size still scares me.
“Good boy.” Nathaniel approaches and pats Sprinkles’s head before looking up at me. “He won’t move until I tell him it’s okay. Are you all right?”
I realize I’m gripping the railing hard enough for my knuckles to turn white, and I force my fingers to relax, embarrassed by my reaction. “I’m fine. Just still getting used to him.”
Nathaniel studies me, seeing more than I want him to. “He wants to say hello. Would you like to pet him? He’ll stay sitting.”
My instinct is to refuse, to retreat inside where it’s safe. But that’s the old Chloe, the one who ran from everything that frightened her.
The new Chloe, the one who’s trying to bebrave, to be worthy of these Alphas, takes a shallow breath and summons bravery. “Okay.”
Nathaniel’s expression warms with approval. “Come down when you’re ready. He won’t move.”
I descend the porch steps one at a time, heartbeat drumming in my ears. Sprinkles watches me approach, his tail now sweeping the grass in slow, hopeful arcs. Up close, he’s more intimidating. His head almost reaches my chest when he’s sitting, and his black fur appears thick enough to lose a hand in.
“He can smell your fear,” Nathaniel murmurs. “But he understands. He’s trained to be gentle with people who are nervous.”
I reach out a trembling hand but hesitate before I make contact. Sprinkles remains still, but he tracks my fingers. I touch the top of his head, his fur soft beneath my palm.
“There you go,” Nathaniel encourages. “He likes to be scratched behind the ears.”
I move my fingers to the spot he indicated, and Sprinkles lets out a contented huff that startles me. But I don’t pull away. His sun-warmed fur soothes the tension from my shoulders as I continue to pet him. He won’t hurt me. He’s just a big, gentle dog who wants attention.
“He’s softer than I expected,” I admit, growing bolder in my petting.
Nathaniel smiles, a rare, full expression that transforms his serious face. “He gets brushed every day. Quinn insists.”
I laugh, and Sprinkles’s tail thumps faster on the ground. “She’s quite the little dictator, isn’t she?”
“Blake’s wrapped around her little finger,” Nathaniel agrees, the fondness in his voice making it clear he’s not much better. He steps closer, his arm brushing mine. “I’m glad you came out. I was going to come find you after Sprinkles had his morning run.”
I let my hand fall away from the dog, who appears disappointed but remains sitting. “Breakfast is ready. Holden made blueberry pancakes for Dominic and chocolate chip ones for Quinn.”
“And plain ones for you, with extra butter on the side,” Nathaniel finishes, knowing Holden’s routine as well as I do. “Did he remember the?—”
“Bacon in the oven? Yes.” These men know each other so well, their lives interwoven over years of friendship and pack bonds.
“You’re settling in.” Nathaniel’s fingers brushmine, the casual touch spreading warmth up my arm. “Starting to anticipate us.”
It’s not a question, but I answer, anyway. “I’m trying.”
His brown eyes soften. “You belong here, Chloe. With us. It hasn’t been easy, and we still have a lot to work through, but…” He pauses, the silver ring on his finger catching the light as he gestures back toward the two-story cabin. “The Homestead feels right with you in it.”
