Page 4 of A Knotty Road Trip

He’s gorgeous and that smirk. Damn…

I wonder if he smells as amazing as he looks.

CHAPTER TWO

BECKETT

Removing my glasses, I rub my temples. Angel and Tate are at each other’s throats, and I’m about to throttle them both.

“Enough!” I shout. They freeze, turning to look at me. I never raise my voice, so they know that I have reached my limit.

“Thank you. Now that I have your attention, we have an hour before our flight leaves. We are already checked in, and the airport is aware that you are here, so they will do your security personally.”

I press the button on the side of my tablet, then place my glasses back on. I should have just worn contacts, but I was hoping to rest on the flight.

“There are only five passengers on the red-eye to LA, so as long as you don't cause a scene, you should be able to stay undetected.”

Angel sighs, rubbing his jaw. He hasn't shaved in a few days, and he has a delicious scruff.

Tate grunts, and I look over at him. Raising an eyebrow, he gives me a cocky smirk, crossing his arms.

“As for your father, Tate… Can one of you call him back? He's starting to give me an ulcer,” I grumble.

“Yeah, he can wait until we touch down in LA though. I could care less about his new stipulations. We are fucking Rock Gods! We don't need to find an omega and settle down,” Tate mutters before shifting to stare out the window.

The snow is coming down harder, and the line of cars honking at us is getting longer.

“You should get inside and up to the gate. People are going to start noticing the limo,” Ken, the guys’ driver states, after opening the partition separating us.

Angel looks behind us and winces. “I told you we should have just gone with the blacked out SUV.”

“Wasn't possible with the girl screaming your name and chasing you half a block,” I remind him, and he groans, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“Yeah,” he sighs, then grabs a leather jacket, slipping it over his black hoodie and pulls the hood over his head.

Tate buttons up his peacoat, and I fix my zip-up. I'd usually be wearing a suit, but I didn't have time to change after the gym. I am not dressed for this weather, but thankfully the doors are right outside the car.

“So we get in and up to the VIP elevator. Keep your heads down and move quickly,” I remind the guys, and they grunt in unison.

Sliding closer to the door, I grab my backpack and duffle bag, slipping it over my shoulder.

“Wait, is that all you’re wearing?” Angel comments, pointing to my hoodie.

“Yeah, but I’ll change on the plane.”

“Fuck that,” he mutters, unzipping his bag and grabbing another coat. “We don’t need you catching a cold,” he says, handing it to me.

Rolling my eyes, I slip my bag off my shoulder and quickly put it on. It’s warm and smells like him: chimney smoke and pine. Delicious.

“There, that’s better,” Tate says before shoving a dark-blue beanie over my head with a grin.

Laughing, I push him away and adjust it. We may all be alphas, but I like it when they take care of me. I didn’t have a family that took the time to care, let alone be bothered with my well being.

Grabbing my bag again, I open the door and take a deep breath of the fresh, cold air. The car was stifling with the heater on full blast. I glance over my shoulder at Angel and Tate.

“Ready?” I ask, fixing my glasses and stepping onto the sidewalk. People are shouting and yelling at us for taking so long. Have to love New York, especially during the holidays.

The passenger side window rolls down, and I move over to talk to Ken as the guys slip inside the airport, hopefully going to the VIP elevator, like I told them to.

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