Danger barks again. I set the keys back. On the wall above the key bowl is a whiteboard. It’s ancient and still covered in the glitter stickers I decorated it with when I was seven. I pull out a red marker and draw a heart with horns. It’s been my signature forever. Just a silly little tradition when we get home, to sign in. But it makes me really feel like I’m home. I pause, looking at the single letter D that’s drawn on there, amongst my dads, mums, and pops’ signatures. I don’t recognise it. There are a few more marks on there, but I really only see them.
I throw the marker back. Danger yaps with even more excitement. I walk through the house and into the kitchen. It’s been remodelled, is my first thought, but then I turn and slip on a wet spot on the floor.
For a moment, I almost catch my balance, but then I'm falling. My arms windmill, and I have enough time to think “how embarrassing” before I overbalance.
Strong arms catch me, and I open my eyes to thank my brother for saving me, but his scent hits me, and the words die in my throat. I struggle up and spin, my heart slamming against my ribs. His eyes are the exact shade of Danger’s fur. They are framed by black lashes, and he’s got his hair up in a man bun, but it’s his scent that hits me hard enough to have me wishing I’d had enough money in the bank to be able to get my scent suppressants filled.
He smells like sparklers on a hot night, sunscreen, and sea salt.
I’ve had fantasies about this alpha for years; they all pale in comparison to the real, solid feel of him.
I whine, and his eyes drop to my lips.
“Oh, Rebel, I didn’t know you were coming back to town.”
There is something in his low, husky voice, a curious delight, but he never noticed me before, so I don’t even let my imagination go there. I let out a squeak when he pulls me closer to him and reaches up, slowly fixing my hair.
“We missed you, Rebel.”
“Sofia,” I mutter. “My name is Sofia.”
“You’ll always be my little Rebel,” he whispers with a twitch of his sculpted lips.
I blush furiously at how pleased that makes me. Two seconds with Devon Hart, and I lose my mind. The forbidden, constantly-around,hot-as-sin best friend of my brother has been my absolute undoing since the day I woke up and discovered I liked the scent of alphas.
He got hotter with age. This is distressing. How am I going to keep my cool around him now? I’m lucky I’m not dribbling.Wait! Am I dribbling?I lift my hand to check, and his eyes crinkle as he laughs.
“I bumped my chin,” I say defensively.
“Mm-hmm,” he grins even wider.
He’s taller, so tall I need to look up at him, and wearing a simple black T-shirt that clings to all the very defined muscles on his body. When did he get those?Off limits, Sofia. Very off limits.
“Who is this adorable little monster?”
Who, me?
Oh, Danger.
“That’s my Danger Dachsie,” I murmur, all tongue-tied.
He flicks me another deeply amused look and licks his bottom lip before transferring all that smoldering intensity to my dog.
I fan myself and put a foot more space between us, but he turns with my wiener and walks back into it again, crowding me against the bench.
“Um,” I glance up at him, uncertain, and, to my intense mortification, I let out another whine.
He turns towards me, but someone stomps into the house.
“Hey, Devon-” my brother’s voice shouts.
There’s a pause.
“Sofa!”
I cringe, hating, hating that nickname but loving the person it came from. He rushes into the kitchen, shoves Devon back from me, and picks me up in a rib-cracking hug.
“Sofa’s back!” My older brother bellows to the house.
