Alpha Knight (Wolf Ridge High 2)

The doorbell rings, and Rikki tears down the stairs to answer. Sophie’s barking stops and turns to a whine of submissive glee when the door opens.

It’s weird the power he has over that dog.

Downright bizarre.

My heart's pumping fast, but it's probably just from the mafia scare. Not because I'm excited or nervous about being picked up for a dance. That's stupid.

Downstairs, I hear Aunt Jen and Rikki talking and the deep rumble of Bo's voice in reply.

Damn. Maybe I am excited because it does something flippy to my stomach.

I slip on a pair of stilettos and hurriedly throw my essentials in an evening purse.

When I come down the stairs, Bo stops speaking mid-sentence. His eyes glint silver to match his grey tie. If I thought the jock from Wolf Ridge couldn't clean up or would look awkward in dress clothes, I was sorely mistaken. If I’m totally honest, I’ll admit I half expected him to show up in a greasy t-shirt and jeans just to embarrass me at the dance.

But no. He looks like a million bucks. And is totally at ease in a crisp white button down with a jacket and tie. Like a GQ model. Or a celebrity.

Very fuckable.

And I’ve never had that thought about a guy before in my life.

“Oh, sugar. You’re showing your legs.” He sounds almost pained, but the appreciation is obvious in his expression.

Maybe I did pick this dress for him, at least subconsciously. It’s a straight sheath that hits mid-thigh without looking skanky. On a shorter girl it might make her legs look short or chunky, but I have long legs, so I can pull it off.

Aunt Jen stiffens at his remark. I don’t think she’s prepared to deal with sexual innuendos, especially in front of Rikki.

Charmer that he is, though, Bo catches himself. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Seriously? Are we in the South? Once more, I didn’t know he had it in him, but Bo Fenton is full of surprises.

“I promise to be completely respectful with Sloane. What time do you want her home?”

My aunt is duly charmed. And a little flustered because I don’t have a curfew, and that isn’t something she’s had to deal with for Rikki yet. “Oh, ah, what time is the dance over?”

“We’ll be back by eleven,” I say at the same time she warbles “Midnight is fine.”

“Midnight it is.” Bo winks.

Seriously—who winks? This guy with his pirate smile.

He reaches his hand out for mine. I want to ignore the gesture, but Rikki and Aunt Jen are looking on, smiling, so I put my palm in his.

His calloused hand is large and rough. I hate the way it makes butterfly wings flap in my belly. I really don’t need this kind of distraction in my life right now.

Especially not from a guy set on wrecking my heart.

His smile mocks me as we walk out, but he gives my hand a squeeze before he lets me shake off his grip. He opens the door for me, like a gentleman.

Again, I’m surprised that he has manners.

“Nice wheels.”

“They’re Winslow’s. So we’ll probably get pulled over since the manhunt is still on. You might want to hold back on the drinking.”

I shoot him a disgusted look. “I’m not going to be drinking!”

He shrugs. “You could. I’m driving. And I’m sure Tyler would take good care of his girlfriend if she got drunk.”

The mention of Tyler makes my stomach tighten.

He gives me a searching look as he slides in the driver’s seat. “There is no Tyler, is there?”

The stone in my stomach drops out completely with a whoosh. I’m left breathless.

For some reason, his guess shakes my foundation. It was a stupid lie, it hardly matters, but if he guessed this truth, what else will he deduce?

“I checked your phone contacts,” he admits, probably noting how stunned I am.

I still can’t speak. Can’t answer. I tuck my hands between my legs because for some reason, they are trembling. I don’t know why I suddenly feel so exposed, but I do.

Maybe I was counting on Tyler to keep the distance between me and this beautiful, dangerous, vengeful guy.

Bo starts the car, but he doesn’t take his focus off me. “Why did you make him up?”

I swallow around the band tightening my vocal cords. “To keep the guys off me,” I admit. My voice comes out scratchy.

“Why?”

I shake my head. I’m still trembly. “I didn’t want the attention. Or the distraction.” Or anyone to get killed.

His blue gaze bores into the side of my head for a moment longer, and then he finally looks through the windshield and puts the Mustang in gear. “I’m glad,” he says without looking my way.

I almost don’t want to ask what he’s glad about, but I do. “Why?”

“I was pretty much going to kill the fucker if he ever showed up here for real.”