Page 16 of Knotted By my Pack

“Wait!” I run to the kitchen, wrap up one of the scones, and hand it to him. “Take this with you.”

He leans down and kisses my forehead like he always does. I’ve never thought about it much before.

Until now.

Because I can feel Elias watching.

Noah gives Elias a short nod, and Elias returns it. The room is quiet in that way that isn’t really silence. My collar suddenly feels way too hot, like my neck doesn’t know what to do with all this attention.

Noah’s gone just seconds later, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

I turn back to Elias, setting the hot chocolate in front of him. He hasn’t moved from his spot.

“Thanks,” he says, voice low again, like it was before.

He takes a bite of the muffin, and I can’t help but watch him eat. The way his jaw moves as he chews, his tiny noise of approval—it makes something coil inside me, tight and low.

I lean against the counter, needing something to keep me grounded.

“You gonna be in town long?” I ask.

He finishes chewing, then looks up at me. “That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether there’s more of this,” he says, motioning to the pastry, “or more of you.”

My breath catches, sharp and fast.

I don’t respond. I don’t think I can.

He takes another bite, and I realize this heat is making me a completely different person.

As he makes his way through his breakfast, I try very hard not to stare at Elias. Seriously, I feel so creepy, but I am so drawn to him.

I’m cleaning the display case when he walks up to me. He leans one elbow on the counter, casual but confident, the kind of posture that shouldn’t make my breath catch but does.

“What’s wrong with your car?”

I shrug, keeping my gaze on the tray I’m wiping. “Not really sure. It was making this weird grinding sound and then just wouldn’t start.”

His silver-gray eyes stay on me. “Mind if I take a look?”

I pause. “I mean, Noah already called the mechanic. He’s stopping by this afternoon.”

Elias smiles, slow and unapologetic. There’s something dangerously charming in the way his lips tilt, like he knows things most people never learn. “I’m very, very good with cars.”

My eyes drop to his hands—rough, broad, strong. Capable. I blink and look back up to find him watching me, his gaze unreadable. Heat brushes the back of my neck.

“Really?” I ask.

He nods, tone casual. “Grew up rebuilding engines. Pickups, bikes, anything with wheels. Let me take a look. You don’t have to pay me anything. Except maybe in muffins.”

“That’s a deal,” I say before I can think better of it.

He stands straighter. “Gotta head home for a bit and get my tools, then I’ll be back.”

He walks to the register, pulling out his wallet, but I shake my head. “Nope. Consider this a down payment for the work you’ll do.”