Her Knotty List (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 4)
Her Knotty List: Chapter 5

My dog has lost his mind.

I honestly can’t blame him. Though, I will say—of the two of us, all alone up here? I definitely thought I’d crack first.

Instead, my Bernese Mountain Dog has decided today’s the day he’s going to choke himself to death on his lead.

“McKinley,” I grunt, tugging him back and putting some bark into my command. “Heel.”

He whines but slinks back to my side, giving up on his crusade to asphyxiate himself. For all of two minutes. Then he’s right back to dragging me frantically.

I bark again, shooting him a glare. We hike this path three mornings a week, and he never tries to pull me off it. He’s a smart dog. I’ve raised McKinley in this wilderness since he was a puppy. He knows there’s a highway on the other side of the pine thicket he’s gunning for.

Normally, I don’t even have to keep him close. The fresh powder on the ground is the only reason I opted for the leash; I didn’t want him to wander into a soft spot and break a leg.

The fifth time I have to yank him back, I start getting uneasy. It isn’t even light out yet, although it’s possible he’s seen or heard something.

If living in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere for the last seven years has taught me anything, it’s not to ignore animal instincts. They usually know important things way before logic does.

“Fine,” I growl, easing up on my grip and letting him pull. “We’ll take a five-minute detour.”

McKinley’s tail wags, but it’s brief. He has his nose up, his ears back. The farther we wade into the copse of trees, the more the hairs at the ruff of his neck stand on end.

Fucking hell.

“I swear,” I mutter low, “if you’re leading me into a bear den, I’m going to throw your leash and let them eat you.”

McKinley stops so suddenly I wonder if he’s understood me. Then, the bastard takes advantage of my surprise and bolts, tearing the lead right out of my hand.

Goddamn it. I haven’t even had coffee yet.

I take off after him, running like a jackass in my hiking boots and thermal pants. Fresh, fluffy snow and pine needles fly behind us while we cut a path right to the side of the fucking highway.

I told you this dog had a death wish.

“McKinley!”

He doesn’t stop. Instead, he veers to the right and launches himself directly at… a snowball? A boulder?

No. It’s a car. A car that seems to have run off the road and tumbled into one of the mountain’s rock formations.

While McKinley frantically digs at the back door of the sedan, I freeze, assessing. There’s smoke rising off the engine. I don’t see footprints or markings to indicate that anyone got out and walked away⁠—

Shit.

I fumble for my vest pocket, ripping out the satellite phone I carry in case of emergencies. There’s only one number programmed into it. I go to dial, but a breathless voice interrupts.

“I—already—called⁠—”

Snarling instinctually, I whirl to replace another man emerging from the path on the opposite side of the road. He’s as tall as me, an obvious alpha, reeking strongly of chai spice⁠—

And dressed in a fur Speedo? With… a matching robe?

What the—am I awake right now? Is this some weird dream hinting at latent sexual desires?

That would be news to me. But I have been alone in the woods for quite a while.

The other alpha catches his breath fairly quickly, tossing an unstyled pompadour of black hair off of his forehead. He narrows his eyes at the scene in front of us and vibrates with tension.

“Fuck, man, I don’t know what to do. I’m not from around here. I was sleeping in my tent, woke up to take a piss, and saw smoke when I looked out my window. But it took me like twenty minutes to get down the motherfucking mountain and⁠—”

I’m not a great alpha in a lot of ways, but I do have a quick mind. It snaps the pieces together in seconds. “You’re from that goddamned glamping site up the way, aren’t you?”

He has to be. What other “tent” would have windows? And he’s dressed like a tool. If he doesn’t put some pants on, he’s going to freeze his dick off.

Although, that pimp coat and the fur-trimmed boots he has on look about right for these temperatures.

Another thing he said registers. “It took you twenty minutes to get here?” I shout. “That site is five minutes away! It’s right off the highway! All you have to do is cut through the trees!”

He scowls at me. “I took the trail, dude. Like I said—I’m not from here. I don’t know where the fuck I even am.”

We’re wasting precious time, I realize, jolting into action. While I charge forward, I grit my teeth to temper the command I toss behind me. “Follow my footsteps. If you step in the wrong place, you could fall into a ditch and break your ankle.”

The guy starts mumbling insults at my back, but follows all the same.