Page 51 of Hard Knot

"A thing or two?" He raises an eyebrow. "You just identified a limited production hybrid supercar by its full model name. That's more than a thing or two."

Caught red-handed.

"Fine," I huff, crossing my arms. "My dad used to work as a mechanic. Sometimes. He’s a janitor now, but back then, he loved the best cars. The ones that go fast and don’t need advertisements to be sold out for two years. When he wasn't doing...other things, that was his little hobby." I wave my hand vaguely. "I picked up some stuff."

"Some stuff," Carter repeats, clearly not buying my attempt at downplaying it. "Like the fact that this particular model has a twin-turbocharged V8 engine combined with three electric motors, producing a total output of 986 horsepower?"

I bite my lip, trying to hide my smile.

Don’t fall into his trap…don’t do it…

"And a top speed of 211 miles per hour, with a 0-60 time of 2.5 seconds."

I’m a smart ass, ugh.

"Marry me," he says with mock seriousness, making me laugh. I don’t know why I never thought I’d be able to meet an Alpha who knew a thing or two about cars. I guess I’ve been in such a mindset that believes I’m not worthy of a pack after waiting so long that I forgot about envisioning a potential set of Alphas who’d fit my tastes.

Somehow the Universe decided to give me a little helping hand.

I have to remind myself that this is temporary, but God. It’s fucking hard to do when I’m temptingly falling for Carter, whosecharm matches his intelligence. This brief conversation makes me want to learn even more about him, but then again, I have to reel my expectations back in.

For the sake of my own heart…

"Sorry, I don't date Alphas just for their cars."

"No?" His hand slides from my chin to cup the back of my neck, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "What about guys who let you drive their cars?"

My heart skips a beat.

He wouldn’t dare.

"You'd...let me drive it?"

"Maybe," he teases. "If you're good."

"I'm never good," I remind him, though my voice comes out breathier than intended. I have my license to drive, and let’s just say I’ve been caught a few times sneaking back from driving my Dad’s finest collections down the freeway because I like hacking into his security systems to prove anyone with common knowledge can do it, but that was a few years ago.

Goodness, I haven’t sped down a road in a nice car in years.

His eyes darken at my words.

"No," he agrees in a way that makes it seem as though he disagrees, leaning closer. "You're much better than good. You’re untouchable to so many, that it seems we’re the lucky fuckers that got to discover such a hidden gem.” My heart skips a few beats. “You're fucking perfect, Abbie."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard.

I'm used to compliments being weapons, honeyed words designed to lower my defenses. But there's something different about the way Carter says it—like he's stating an obvious fact rather than trying to manipulate me.

He kisses me gently, the touch so soft and perfect, before I deepen the kiss, needing a moment where I’m in control of how easily things flow between us. Nothing feels forced, which seemscrazy to me because I expected a set of Alphas would drop into my life and I’d be fighting every step of the way.

I’m not expecting smooth sailing with green pastures and flowers blooming in our relationship, but Carter is like the calm I needed before the storm.

Especially with me hitting my five-year mark at Knot Academy.

“Think you can manage a quickie?” he whispers after he kisses me long and hard. It takes everything not to kiss him back even harder, though the idea of doing anything with this man in this car is driving my body mad.

Making me wet and dripping with slick. Not helpful when these scent-blocking panties are my last pair until I can make it to the laundry mart on the other side of campus.

The soft whirr of the seat’s motor hums as Carter presses the button, the chair sliding back to give me more room. His scent—a maddening mix of cedar, spice, and something darker—fills the confined space of the Ferrari, making it nearly impossible to think straight.

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