Read Alpha Me Not for Free Online Page A

obvious, clumsy change of topic, she replied, “Like I told you not five minutes ago, at nine.”
    The next few hours both whizzed by at a speed faster and more blinding than that of light and dragged on at an inexorable snail’s pace. Joe railroaded her into spending the night at his house, which had not only survived intact but suffered only the merest hint of smoke damage.
    He took her to the nearest Walmart Supercenter, bullied her into buying more than the basic necessities, and then paid the bill over her adamant protests. They entered his three-bedroom home well after midnight.
    “This way.” He tugged her through a small kitchen equipped with the kind of commercial, high-end appliances she’d only seen in magazines, down a dark hallway, and halted at a small window. An open doorway led to a shadowed room. He flicked a wall switch, and she couldn’t help but smile at the incongruous view.
    A whole hue of pinks ambushed her senses.
    Pastel pink on the walls, cotton-candy pink for the ruffled bedspread and throw pillows, a cozy armchair upholstered in a striped peppermint pink and ivory fabric, even the area rugs on the floor sported a paisley pink, rose, and cream pattern. She snort-chuckled, shook her head, and glanced up at him.
    “ You decorated this room?”
    She would’ve given megamillion lottery odds that Joe Huroq had never blushed in his life.
    “I bought the place fully furnished. A widow had lived here, and after she died, her children, who were based in New York, didn’t want the hassle of having to empty the house. I went through most of the other rooms and cleared out the widow’s personal stuff. Never got around to doing anything with this room, though I did have all the linens cleaned.”
    “I didn’t know pink came in so many shades.” She ventured inside. “Where are the dolls? This room shouts dolls.”
    He made a choking sound. “How did you know? There were a ton of them. Wania, she’s the Hassanis youngest daughter, fell in love with them, and I was only too happy to give them to her.”
    “Hassani?”
    “Laila and Omar Hassani live opposite the Arnolds. Three daughters. Shower’s to the right. I’ll get you soap and all that other stuff.” He dumped the packages on the bed. “Make yourself at home. I never use this room, so feel free to change anything you want.”
    “Thanks.”
    After Joe left, Susie dragged the scrunchie from her hair and lifted the aching roots with both hands. Loosening the ponytail freed the smoke trapped in the locks, and she grimaced. A shower and bed. She couldn’t remember ever being so tired, both physically and mentally. That morning she’d gone for a five-mile run, rearranged the furniture, cleaned the cottage top to bottom, and unpacked every box. Labor done, labor lost.
    “You okay?” Joe stood in the doorway, those black eyes trained on her, a full shower caddy dangling from one hand.
    “As okay as the circumstances allow.” She managed a limp baring of her teeth and accepted the steel container. “Thanks. Any news about the rest of the neighborhood?”
    “They saved Mr. Arnold’s house. His detached garage is gone, and they need to do an inspection, but he and his daughter and grandson will probably be able to move back in soon.”
    “I’m glad. Thanks for everything, Joe.” She grazed the back of his hand with a finger. The yearning to throw her arms around him made her giddy. She stepped back. “Night.”
    “I’ll check on you before I hunker down. Holler if you need anything.”
    “I will.” She shut the door, unable to bear the concern in his intent stare for a second longer.
    The shower revived her flagging spirits somewhat. She sat on the edge of the bed, towel-drying her damp hair, and attempted to prioritize what needed to be done the following day, but flashing images of the fire, the sirens, and Joe’s strong arms holding her tight proved the ultimate distraction.
    A hard barrage on the door had her bounding off