Page 42 of The Knotheads Next Door
I stand in the driveway for a long moment after she's gone, sorting through my confused thoughts and emotions. I care about Rowan—more than I should for someone who's supposed to be a temporary housemate. I'm attracted to her—not just to her emerging omega traits, but to her as a person, with her dry wit and fierce protectiveness and vulnerability she tries so hard to hide.
But I also know that what's happening to her body is complicated, potentially dangerous, and definitely not something she's prepared for. She needs support, not pressure. Space to figure things out, not alphas projecting their desires onto her.
Even if those desires are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
Jasper is right about one thing: we need to have a serious conversation. All of us, together, before things get any more complicated.
Before anyone gets hurt.
Because right now, with the way things are escalating, that seems all but inevitable.
Chapter 13
Wells
If there was an Olympics of Organization, I would win gold in compartmentalization.
It's a skill I've honed through years of managing municipal crises, navigating political land mines, and keeping Vineyard Groves running smoothly despite the chaos that seems to follow our mayor like an enthusiastic puppy.
Which is why I find it so frustrating that I can't seem to focus on the budget proposal in front of me. Every time I try to make sense of the numbers, my mind drifts to Rowan. To the scent of her in our house, growing stronger despite the blockers. To the way Jasper and Theo orbit around her like planets caught in a gravitational pull they can't escape.
To the way, I'm starting to do the same.
This is unacceptable. The balloon payment on the house is due in a month. The Harvest Festival opens in three weeks. And tonight, we're supposed to have this "pack meeting" that Jasper insists we need, but Theo keeps pushing off. As if talking about our increasingly complicated living situation will somehow make it less complicated.
I close the budget file with a frustrated sigh and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling of my office at Town Hall. There are twenty-three water stains up there. I've counted them approximately eight hundred times during particularly tedious meetings.
My phone buzzes with a text from Theo.
Picking up Rowan from Billie's. Another spike. We still on for tonight?
Another episode. They're becoming more frequent, more intense. It's only a matter of time before she experiences a full heat—her first, from what I can gather. And when that happens...
No. I refuse to think about it. About her, flushed and needy, her scent calling to something primal in me that I've always kept firmly in check.
Yes,I text back.8 PM.
Then, after a moment's consideration, I add:How is she?
Shaken. Trying to pretend she's fine. The usual.
I frown at the phone. This can't continue. For her safety as much as our sanity.
What Rowan needs is a distraction. Something structured, formal, and public that will take her mind off whatever her body is doing. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with alphas, or attraction, or the undeniable tension building in our house.
And I know exactly what that something is.
Before I can second-guess myself, I'm dialing her number. She answers on the fourth ring, her voice wary.
"Wells? Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," I assure her, keeping my tone casual. "I'm calling about the mayor's Spring Gala tomorrow night."
"The... what?"
"It's an annual event. Black tie, silent auction, networking with local business owners. Very formal, very dull. But essential for community relations."
"Okay," she says slowly. "And you're telling me this because...?"
