Page 30 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
I stuff my wet, muddy clothes into the plastic bag Noel left.
Craziest day ever. But on the bright side, I now know Chris wasn’t lying. The reindeer are real. This is all real.
I head downstairs barefoot, following the sound of voices.
There are three men in the great room. Noel, Chris, and a third man. They’re standing by the fireplace that’s now roaring to life.
The third man is huge, six five at least, broad and muscled, wearing the same tactical black gear as Noel. Dark blond hair, hazel-green eyes, a grin that suggests he finds everything hilarious.
They’re laughing when I emerge, and they all turn to look at me.
I freeze at the bottom of the stairs.
Three gorgeous, dangerous-looking Alphas, all staring at me while I’m wearing borrowed clothes and no shoes and probably still have mud somewhere I missed.
My body wants to sway toward them, a sudden, unexpected heat building low in my belly, which is troubling.
“Clothes,” I blurt out, because apparently that’s the only word my brain can produce.
Noel’s grin widens. “They suit you.”
“Sure. If the look I’m going for is ‘drowning in fabric.’?” I walk farther into the room, aware of their gazes on me. “I’m Hannah, by the way. Since I haven’t officially met all of you properly.”
“Kane Reed,” the third man says and walks over to me with a bottle of water in his hand, which he offers me. I take it gratefully, gulping half of it down. “Chris told us about you, but good to finally meet you.”
Chris is smiling now, leaning against the fireplace with his arms crossed. “Good to see you again, Hannah. Though I have to say, I’m impressed. You tracked down where I live and broke into the property. That’s dedication.”
“It’s creepy, right?” My face is burning. “But in my defense, I just needed to verify that the reindeer existed. I wasn’t stalking you.”
“She was definitely stalking you,” Noel says. “Wait till I show you the footage of her dealing with Corn Dog.” Noel is already chuckling, and I’m narrowing my gaze at him.
“Nothing exciting,” I say, but they’re already nodding at Noel. Just wonderful—I’ve now become a clown.
All three of them are still grinning, and I make the mistake of stepping closer instead of farther away.
Instant regret.
Kane’s scent is new to me—gingerbread, campfire smoke, and orange zest—and it’s mixing with the scents from Chris and Noel, smothering me at once. Heat races under my skin, and my pulse skips hard enough that I feel it in my tongue. My knees don’t go weak, but there’s a sudden, ridiculous awareness of my own breathing, my own body, like every inch of me has woken up all at once.
I don’t do this around Alphas. Ever. Certainly not around three at the same time. My body clearly didn’t get the memo. I force my face into something normal. Businesslike. Adult-in-control-ish.
“So.” I down the rest of the water like it might drown the problem. “We’re set for tomorrow? The event?”
Chris nods. “Yeah. We’ve got the reindeer, plus goats, sheep, and a miniature horse. Along with some chickens and bunnies. Transport is squared away. We’ll show up early and handle the setup.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much. That’s… perfect. Let me text you all the details of where to go.” I hand him my phone where he types in his number then I send you a message with all details. Next thing, I take a deliberate step back. Then another. Distance helps. Not much, but enough to breathe. “I should go.You all look busy, probably need to, I don’t know… reorganize evidence boards or whatever bounty hunters do after catching criminals.”
They exchange looks, definitely entertained.
I am face-planting in my own dignity. “Thanks for letting me clean up,” I add, still edging toward the door. “And your house is incredible. Really beautiful. Very… lumberjack spa.” Shut up. I need to shut up. “Oh!” I blurt. “I brought brownies. They’re in my car. For Chris. As a thank-you.”
“Brownies?” Kane perks up. “What kind?”
“Dark chocolate. Lily’s recipe. The good ones.”
“I’m already in love with your sister.”
“You and everyone else.” I shake my head, amused despite myself.
