Page 2 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)
CHAPTER TWO
Josie
As the night winds down, the energy at Stella’s Market shifts. Vendors start packing up, folding tables clatter, string lights flicker, but the beer tent?
It’s just getting started.
The music turns up, the crowd thickens, and the whole vibe gets looser, warmer, like a tipsy heartbeat thrumming through the square.
Maya and I are halfway through our second hot cider and making the rounds again, stopping to chat with Mrs. Lang at the pie stall, who insists I take a mini pecan tart “for the chef’s palate.” I laugh and accept it, offering hugs to people I haven’t seen in years.
Everyone seems happy to have me home, and I wish I could fully focus on that.
But my eyes keep drifting back to him .
Knox.
It doesn’t seem to matter what he’s doing—my eyes are drawn his way. Even from this far, I can see the angular line of his jaw, the deliberate way he moves, like every step is planned but relaxed. It shouldn't be hot. It really shouldn’t.
“You’re staring again,” Maya mutters under her breath as we browse a display of handmade candles.
“I’m not.” I am.
She nudges me with her elbow. “Girl, you could light one of these candles with the heat coming off your face.”
I snort and turn away, pretending to inspect a jar of something lavender scented. “He’s... interesting.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” she laughs. “ Interesting ?”
I stiffen when I glance back over to his stall. Knox steps out from behind the booth, wiping his hands on a towel and slinging his apron over a chair. He catches my eye again, that same smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth like he’s been waiting for me to make a move.
Or maybe he’s about to.
“Done for the night?” I ask as he approaches.
“More or less.” His eyes drag over me in a slow, pointed sweep that makes my skin squeeze too tight. “Thought I’d grab a drink. Maybe a dance.”
My stomach does that stupid swoopy thing again. “Lucky you. I happen to be a professional cider-sipping dance partner.”
He chuckles, low and rough. “That so?”
Before I can answer, Maya appears at my elbow with a raised brow and a knowing grin. “I’m heading out,” she says, loud enough to make her intentions crystal clear. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”
I nod, squeezing her hand, and she winks. “Have fun. Be safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… which is basically nothing.”
With that, she vanishes into the crowd, and I’m left standing in the soft glow of fairy lights, alone with a man who looks at me like he’s already imagining how I taste. Just the thought makes me clench my thighs tighter.
Knox offers his arm. “Dance?”
I don’t even hesitate. I take it, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt as he guides me into the crowd. If his forearm is enough to make me weak at the knees, I can only imagine what will happen if I get to feel the rest of him.
The beer tent pulses with life. Laughter, clinking glasses, and a classic rock playlist slips into something slow and smoky just as we step beneath the canopy.
He pulls me in without asking, one strong hand on my waist, the other catching my fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And we move.
His body fits against mine too perfectly, all heat and muscle and barely restrained tension. His hand drifts lower on my back, fingertips brushing the curve of my hip. Every step pulls us tighter together, every turn feels like a secret whispered against my skin.
“You always dance like this?” I murmur, not trusting my voice to do anything more.
He dips his head, nose brushing mine, lips ghosting over my cheek. “Nah, only with you.”
A laugh hitches in my throat, light and breathless. “Smooth line.”
He grins, slow and wicked. “Is it working?”
Oh man, help me, it is.
I tilt my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. “Depends. How often do you go out of your way to make a girl feel like she’s the only one in the room?”
“Only when she is ,” he says without missing a beat, his thumb drawing lazy circles at my waist, like he’s already learned what makes me melt.
I bite my lip, pulse stuttering. “You’re dangerous.”
His smile darkens. “You like dangerous.”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to. My body already has.
His breath is warm at my temple as we sway, slow and steady, letting the low thrum of bass and honeyed vocals melt around us.
I don’t know if it’s the cider or the altitude or the way his fingers graze bare skin under my sweater like he’s mapping me cell by cell, but suddenly I’m acutely aware of every inch of him. Of every shiver he draws from me with the subtlest shift, the faintest press of his palm.
“You’ve got this look,” he says low against my ear, “like you’re trying real hard not to kiss me.”
“Maybe I am,” I whisper, lips brushing his jaw.
“Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard.”
Tight heat coils low in my belly. My fingers curl into the front of his shirt, just to keep steady, just to touch him. His chest is solid and warm, and he smells like woodsmoke and something I want to get lost in.
He must sense it too, because the next moment, his hand slides up my spine, slow and possessive, like he already owns me, and I swear, every vertebra lights up under his touch. I shiver, not from the cold, but from the raw, electric thrill of it. Of him.
Then he lowers his mouth to my ear. His breath is warm against my skin, and the deep rasp of his voice slides through me like smoke and silk.
“Come home with me. Kiss me there.”
It’s not a question.
It’s not a plea.
It’s a low, rough promise wrapped in velvet, and it hits me like a match to dry kindling.
My heart skips a beat. My skin flushes hot. Every nerve ending I have screams, Do it .
“Yes,” I hear myself say, voice barely a whisper.
I mean, I should, right?
Maya would tell me to.
I’ve worked so hard for two long years. I deserve a night of fun before everything gets serious all over again.
He pulls back enough to search my face, his gaze heavy, intense. His thumb drags along my jaw, firm and gentle, like he’s memorizing the shape of me. The pad of it grazes the corner of my mouth, and my lips part without thinking, drawn toward him like a tide to the moon.
“You sure?” he murmurs.
I nod, breath catching as his fingers shift to the side of my throat, his touch featherlight but scorching all the same. “So sure.”
Without another word, he threads his fingers through mine and leads me out of the tent. The chill of the night air hits my bare skin, but it doesn’t matter. Not with the heat radiating off him. Not with the thrum in my veins that’s louder than the crowd behind us.
We wind through the darkened paths of the market, past shuttered stalls and lantern-lit walkways. His hand occasionally brushes my hip as we walk, and each time seems intentional. Possessive in a way that makes my breath catch.
When we reach the edge of the parking lot, he opens the passenger door of a sleek, black SUV and helps me in, one hand curling around my waist as I step up, the other brushing the inside of my thigh as he leans close to buckle my seatbelt.
It’s completely unnecessary.
And completely intentional.
My pulse hammers.
The ride to his place is a blur. I don’t remember what we said, if we said anything at all.
Just the heat between us. The silence thick with anticipation.
His hand brushing mine when I least expect it.
The weight of his gaze every time we hit a red light, burning into me like he’s already undressing me with his eyes.
And then we’re there.
He kills the engine, but neither of us moves at first. The air inside the SUV is thick with heat, with all the things we haven’t said out loud but are written in every glance, every brush of skin.
Then he turns to me, and his eyes grow darker, hungrier. His hand reaches out, slow but sure, and cups the side of my neck, his thumb grazing the hollow just beneath my jaw.
“I’ve been trying not to do this since the moment I saw you,” he says, voice low, rough with restraint.
Then his mouth is on mine.
It isn’t a gentle kiss. It’s not careful or cautious.
It’s full of heat and urgency, like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that’s ever tasted right.
His lips crash into mine, parting them easily, and the second our tongues meet, a spark shoots through me so fast and fierce I gasp into his mouth.
He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, angling my head to fit him better, closer. One hand threads into my hair, gripping enough to make my toes curl, while the other finds my waist, dragging me across the center console like he can’t stand the distance between us a second longer.
I end up half in his lap, knees pressed into leather, fingers tangled in the collar of his shirt. Every inch of me is buzzing, no, burning , and when his teeth scrape my bottom lip, I moan before I can stop myself.
He groans in response, a sound that vibrates through my entire body. “Damn, you taste like summer and sin.”
My hips shift of their own accord, pressing into the hard length of him, and his hands tighten on me like he’s barely holding himself together. Like he’s seconds away from losing control and taking me with him.
And suddenly, I want that. I want all of it.
“Can we go inside already?”
His eyes blaze, and in one fluid motion, he opens his door, tugging me with him as we stumble out into the cool night.
The place where he’s staying sits tucked in the hills above Silver Peak, rugged and isolated, a mix of luxury and raw mountain charm. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the dark sky and scattered stars, while a yellowing light spills from inside, glowing against the pine.
I blink, stunned.
I didn’t even know a place like this existed in Silver Peak. It’s the kind of cabin you see in luxury travel magazines. High-end, remote, clearly designed for wealthy tourists looking to “rough it” in style. Not the sort of place any local would stumble into.
Who is this man?
The question floats through my mind, hot and intense. But it fizzles just as fast.
It doesn’t matter.
Not tonight.