him. Josie got the distinct feeling the omega was planning other ways to make her case.
From the obvious attraction between the two, she had a feeling Olivia would be successful.
Unfortunately, that didn't help Josie right here and now. She had no idea what to do next. She looked over at Knox, but he just cursed under his breath before heading for the truck.
"You might as well jump in the back again, little monkey," he called. "Looks like you're coming home with me for a while."
Chapter Seven
Sitting in the back of Knox's old truck as it puttered down the two-lane highway, Josie felt like a labrador retriever with its tongue hanging out and its ears flapping in the wind.
She had a feeling that she was starting to smell like one, too. From the sun's position in the sky, it was already afternoon, meaning that she'd gone almost two days without a shower. Maybe it was for the best that she had been relegated to the back of the truck, Josie decided as she pulled stray strands of her hair out of her mouth for the umpteenth time. It might not be the most comfortable form of travel, and it sure as hell wasn't the most dignified, but it was probably the safest.
Twenty minutes after pulling out of Gray's drive, Knox turned off the Central Road and onto a bumpy dirt path with so many rocks and potholes that Josie would have been thrown right out of the truck if she didn't hold on for dear life.
At least the view was nice. More than nice, now that she could see it in full daylight.
'Stunning' was a better word…breathtaking even. Josie had never seen such clear blue skies, so much vibrant green foliage in her entire life. And the way it smelled! Fresh and spicy and clean and—and nothing like the body odor and weed smoke and burnt coffee smell of every protest she had ever attended.
Josie had always lived in the city, starting with her family's Nob Hill mansion in San Francisco and most recently in a cramped studio in the Tenderloin. The only nature she saw on a daily basis were the pigeons hanging around the taqueria across the street looking for crumbs and a few spindly saplings along the sidewalk that the city had forgotten to water.
Nothing could be different from that life from this place, with its towering trees, birds flying in formation overhead, the eyes of curious creatures peering out from the forest, the sun glinting off the snowy peaks of the mountains in the distance. All of it gorgeous…all of it inarguably wild.
Just like Knox.
Knowing that he couldn't see her blush and hoping that the wind whipping her hair carried her scent away, Josie let her eyes drift closed and allowed herself to enjoy the warm feeling that filled her chest—not to mention someplace a little lower—at the thought of the alpha.
But only for a moment. It was one thing to appreciate Knox's beauty; it was another to let herself start mooning over him. That wouldn't do anyone any good.
What she ought to be doing was coming up with the words to sincerely thank him. After all, Knox was under no obligation to give her a place to crash while Olivia and her friend Mari figured out how to smuggle in the scanner.
It was obvious that Knox really didn't want her on his land any more than Josie wanted to be here in the Boundarylands. He didn't have to do anything at all for her, starting with picking her up when she was trudging down the icy road in chains. Sure, he glowered and grumbled and did that thing where his chest vibrated like the lowest chord on a piano, but in the end, he'd helped her anyway. In fact, that was what made the gesture so sweet.
Josie’s eyes shot open, aghast. Had she really just connected the word "sweet" to a towering, menacing alpha? But before she could work through the thought, the truck rolled into a clearing and came to a stop.
"Well, here we are," Knox called out through the back window as the truck. "I know it's not exactly the Palace Hotel."
Her mind did another somersault. She wasn't about to tell Knox that her twelfth birthday party had taken place at the opulent hotel. "It's…nice," she stuttered, then rolled her eyes at her choice of words.
'Nice' was an apartment big enough that you didn't have to store your dishes in the oven or turn