Page 6 of Knotted By my Pack

I should be paying attention. I should care. But my gaze drifts to the way his hands grip the wheel, rough palms, strong knuckles. The solid set of his jaw. The way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, the way the morning light catches in the golden strands of his hair.

Seriously. What the hell is wrong with me today?

I yank my gaze away, swallowing hard. “Huh. A resort?”

He nods. “Some big investors sniffing around. Nothing confirmed yet, but if it happens, it’ll change a lot of things.”

I hum in response, still barely registering the words.

The truck slows as we pull up in front of Whisked, my bakery. The place that has been my dream for as long as I can remember. Soft cream-colored walls, big bay windows, a hand-painted sign above the door.

The smell of butter, sugar, and fresh bread always lingering in the air, seeping out into the street.

Noah shifts the truck into park and turns to me.

I reach for the handle, but before I can step out, he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. Warm. Brief. Familiar.

“What are you working on today?” I ask, voice steady despite the way my pulse stutters.

“Thorne needs some work done on his boat. Some repairs on theHelenebefore winter rolls in.”

I nod, gripping the door handle a little tighter. “I’m making Danish cookies today. I’ll save you a couple.”

Something flickers in his expression. Amusement, maybe.

“You better.” Then he leans back, fingers tapping the wheel, as I step out. He waits until I’m inside before pulling away.

I stand in the doorway for a moment, breathing slowly, willing the last traces of whatever that was to disappear.

It was just an off morning. That’s all.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

2

JULIAN

Iwake up pissed off. The mattress is too soft, the air smells like mildew, and the ancient air-conditioning unit rattles like a dying engine. The room is a goddamn joke, just like everything else in this town.

I knew this was going to be a nightmare. Building a luxury resort here made sense on paper. Beachfront property. Undervalued real estate. A goldmine waiting to happen.

But actually staying in this dump of a motel for three days? Pure hell.

At this point, sleeping in my truck sounds more appealing than spending another night here. That thought reminds me—I need to deal with my car situation. No charging stations in this godforsaken place. I reach for my phone and call Brielle.

She picks up after the second ring, her voice syrupy sweet. “Boss. Missing me already?”

I knew sleeping with her was a mistake. It had been too easy, too convenient. Now every conversation drips with unspoken tension, flirtation she refuses to let go of.

“Not quite,” I say flatly. “I need you to handle something for me. There are no charging stations for the Rivian, and I’m notabout to start pushing it down the road like a goddamn idiot. Get me something else.”

She hums, dragging it out like she enjoys making me wait. “Mmm. A big, strong Alpha like you, stuck in a town without power? Tragic.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Brielle.”

“Relax. I’ll have a rental arranged by tomorrow. Anything else?”

“Can I get the car earlier?”