Her Knotty List (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 4)

I see the way the omega holds back whatever she’s about to say—and it isn’t a good sign.

Bad enough that I have a strange woman in my bed. Worse that she helped herself to what is, arguably, the most private drawer in any residence. Now she’s withholding information?

Leaning forward, I set my elbows on my knees and lock eyes with her, not allowing myself to be swayed by the pretty jade irises.

“What are you doing up here?”

The girl—Emma—swallows visibly. Her tiny hand comes up to touch her blank neck, fingertips stroking that smooth, milky throat.

Goddamn it. I grind my molars as my cock ticks in my snow pants, roused by the way she touches her own creamy skin as much as the sight of her flawless flesh.

She’s a beautiful woman. And an omega. I remind myself that this is just our biology, playing tricks on us. But as her light-green eyes slide back to mine and tears gather on her smeared lashes, I can’t deny the tug deep in my abdomen.

That desire to lean closer beats at me, pounding under my ribs.

Closer. Closer.

Protect. Problem-solve. Provide.

Hell. This is why I avoid people.

Emma opens her mouth to speak, “I was… at a wedding.” She ducks her head as if she’s ashamed and corrects herself. “I was at my wedding. But then… I had to leave. So I took a rental car, and I thought I was going down south, toward my home, but I guess I went the wrong way. It was dark, and I’m not used to driving in the mountains…”

Right, she’s from Florida. It’s flat as a pancake down there.

Her eyes suddenly go wide and fill up again. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I? Or hit a deer?”

McKinley seems to hate her crying as much as I do. He burrows into her lap and licks her arm. It looks like she has bruises there. Maybe from the crash?

…they better be from the crash.

“No,” I tell her, finding her green gaze. “Your car has to be towed into town, though. I’ve already left a message for the local mechanic. I can have them return it for you after they fix it if you find another way home.”

Emma swipes at her eyes, offering a tremulous smile that tightens my chest. “Thank you—um, what’s your name? I’m Emma.”

She lifts her hand, letting the blankets piled on top of her slide down below her strapless white bra. I carefully focus on her fingers, reaching out and taking them in mine. “Knox.”

When I seal my palm against hers and feel her trembling, my hand clenches, holding on. I cup the other one around hers to steady it. “You’re shaking.”

She gives a quivering nod. “I probably will for a while. Normally, I’d go in my nest or call—” She cuts herself off, angrily swiping at another tear as it escapes. “Never mind.”

Her ex, I surmise. Or exes. Most omegas seek a pack. It’s just one of many reasons why I’m out here all alone.

I hum, scowling at my bedroom as though a nest will magically appear for her. I know damn well there isn’t one here. By design.

It pisses me off that I even care. But I’m a slave to my instincts. And right now? They’re more dominant than ever, suffocating all notions of self-preservation.

There’s also an edge of desperation I don’t understand. Something about this omega, specifically. I’ve been fighting it off from the moment I saw her face through her frosted car window, but it finally overwhelms me. I clutch her hand tighter in both of mine.

“What else calms you?” I inquire, scanning her face. “Anything.”

A full-body shiver moves through her when I say the word. My cock notices and twitches to attention. I smother a growl and wait for her reply.

She blinks up at me. “Um… hot showers? Baths, sometimes. Once my hands stop shaking, I guess I could read.”

I don’t have a bathtub in the master since I designed it with only myself in mind. But I do have a shower. And there’s a library down the hall. It’s full of business books, though.

Wait. What am I thinking?

She isn’t staying. She needs to go back to wherever she came from, and I need to get my head examined.

“A hot shower is a good idea.”

Micah’s voice interrupts my internal tirade. He comes shuffling into the room with a mug clasped between his hands. Behind him, the tool in the fur underpants leans his bare body along the doorjamb.

His shiny eyebrows wag at me. “Got any spare pants, Grizzly Adams?”

I get up to make space for Micah. He hands the mug of broth to Emma and immediately backs a polite distance away. His eyes jump to mine.

“Can she use your bathroom? Or should I show her the guest one down the hall?”

I don’t like the idea of him going anywhere alone with her. Especially since I know she doesn’t have any clothes on. Suddenly, I’m the only person in the world I trust with this lost, vulnerable woman.

“Mine is fine,” I grunt, walking over to flick on the ensuite’s lights and pull a stack of fresh towels off the built-in rack.

Emma carefully tucks three full-length blankets around her cold, pale body before she slides out of bed. McKinley follows her into the bathroom. I’m about to correct him, but she coos her praise and promptly closes the door behind them.

Well, damn.

Even my dog likes her.

We all wait, frozen, until we hear the water running. I stalk to my dresser, dig out a loose pair of black joggers, and throw them at Zane. “Take them and get out of my house.”

Zane just grins. “Aw, man, don’t be like that! I’m going to the airport today, anyway. If I stay, I can give her a ride.”

And leave this madman alone with the omega? For the entire two-hour ride into Asheville? I practically snarl. “Fuck, no. She’s staying here until someone she trusts can come get her.”

The waxed, muscular alpha yanks my joggers on and shrugs loosely. “What makes you think she feels any safer all alone here with you?” he drawls, smirking. “Maybe she likes me better. She certainly liked my scent well enough.”

I turn to Micah, looking for backup, but his expression is grim. He nods. “She did. I saw it.”

I hold up my hands, halting the conversation. “It doesn’t matter whose scent she likes.” Or how insanely, irrationally jealous it makes me feel. “The woman was half-dead an hour ago. She isn’t in any position to be choosing sexual partners.”

Micah shrugs his agreement, but Zane’s dark eyes light up. “Sometimes a little sexual healing is just what a person needs. How do you know she wouldn’t be into it?”

I think about the shame on Emma’s face when she told me about her night. My voice drops low. “She just ran out on her own goddamn wedding. That’s why she was all dressed up, overwrought, and lost, okay?”

Zane’s eyes fly wide. “Fuck.”

Micah hisses an inhale, wincing sympathetically. “Poor thing. Did she say why?”

I think of the tears in her eyes, my mood darkening by the second. “No. She didn’t.”

Zane surprises me by looking contemplative. “Must have been bad,” he mutters, scuffing his bare foot against my floor. “If she ran away.”

We all listen to the water running. There’s a soft voice woven into it, singing a song. When I look over at the other two, Micah is staring at my closed bathroom door like he’s seen a ghost, and Zane grins widely.

“I like her,” he decides. “Let’s make her breakfast and figure out how we can help.”

I frown at him. Secretly, some part of me is still hellbent on having them all leave. Immediately. “I don’t cook. Besides, I’m sure Micah is tired. He worked all night.”

Micah looks like he’s in a trance. He speaks without blinking, staring at the door while he mutters, “I slept at the station. And I could eat.”

“Great.” Zane claps. “I’ll cook.”

I eye him dubiously. “You?”

“Yeah, Ebenezer,” he chuckles. “Me. I’m a food and travel influencer. I have twenty-four-million followers. Got a recipe for just about everything.”

God help me. I don’t even know where to start with that statement. So I grit back, “Ebenezer?”

He shrugs his bare shoulder, already striding off. “Yeah. You’re old and rich. You live alone and have no Christmas tree. Sounds like a Scrooge to me.”

I’m really regretting letting him keep his coat on earlier. Should have let the bastard freeze his balls off.

Grumbling under my breath, I stomp back to the dresser and pluck out enough clothing to keep Emma covered from the tips of her toes to her chin. When my pile contains a long-sleeved thermal, a fuzzy gray hoodie, fleece-lined joggers, and warm socks, I drop the bundle at the bathroom door and turn to Micah.

Who is still staring.

“What?” I demand.

“Nothing,” he denies, blinking at the door. “Nothing at all.”