Page 38 of The Knotheads Next Door
"You're not focusing," Jasper says, his voice closer than I expected. He's standing right behind me now, his chest nearly touching my back as he reaches around to adjust the board's position. "Like this."
His body heat envelops me, his scent—pine and sawdust and something fundamentally male—filling my lungs. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I'm certain he can hear it, can sense the way my body is responding to his proximity.
"Got it," I say, my voice embarrassingly breathless.
He doesn't move away immediately. Instead, he stays close, close enough that I can feel his breath stir the hair at the nape of my neck. "Are you sure? Because you seem... distracted."
Is he... flirting with me? Jasper, who's been treating me like a walking biohazard for two weeks?
"I'm fine," I manage, though my body is screaming otherwise. Every nerve ending feels electrified, hyperaware of exactly how close he is, of the mere inches separating us.
"Your pulse says differently," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a register that sends shivers down my spine. "It's racing."
"Maybe I'm afraid of hammers," I quip, a weak attempt at deflection.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. "No, you're not. You're afraid of this." His hand moves to my wrist, fingers brushing over my pulse point. "Of how your body reacts when I'm close. Of what it means."
He's right, and we both know it. I am afraid—terrified, actually—of the way my body betrays me around him. Around all of them, really, but especially Jasper, with his gruff demeanor and hidden depths and those forearms that should be classified as lethal weapons.
"Jasper," I say, not sure if I'm asking him to back off or move closer.
Before either of us can find out, the front door swings open, and Wells's voice cuts through the tension. "Jasper, have you seen the—oh."
Jasper steps back so quickly I nearly lose my balance. I turn to see Wells standing in the doorway, his expression a careful blank as he takes in the scene.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says, though he doesn't sound sorry at all. "I was looking for my festival planning binder."
"Haven't seen it," Jasper says, his voice back to its usual gruff indifference. He picks up his hammer, putting deliberate distance between us. "Check the study."
Wells nods, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he retreats back inside.
The moment—whatever it was—is broken.
"I should go check on Gerald," I say, even though Gerald is perfectly fine, napping on the porch swing in a patch of sunlight.
Jasper nods, already turning back to his work. "You do that."
I flee to the safety of the porch swing, heart still pounding, skin still tingling where Jasper's fingers touched my wrist. What just happened? Was he actually... interested? Or was he just making a point about my changing biology?
And why, despite all my determination to maintain boundaries, am I hoping it was the former?
Gerald stirs as I sit beside him, stretching lazily before climbing into my lap. His rumbling purr is soothing, a counterpoint to my racing thoughts.
Across the porch, Jasper continues working, his movements betraying no hint of the charged moment we just shared. But occasionally, I catch him glancing my way, his expression impossible to read.
One thing is certain: whatever is happening between us—between me and all three alphas—is getting more complicated by the day. And with less than two months left in our contract, I'm running out of time to figure out what I want.
Chapter 12
Theo
Iwake up smelling Rowan's scent on my wrist. Maybe I'm imagining it. It shouldn't still be there—not after many showers and the few weeks that have passed—but somehow it lingers, a ghost of sweetness that makes my stomach clench with guilt and something far more dangerous.
I crossed a line that night. Scent-marking someone without permission is inappropriate at best, predatory at worst. Especially someone who's vulnerable, confused about her changing biology, and dependent on us for housing. It doesn't matter that it felt right, that the way she responded—even in sleep—suggested her body welcomed my scent. I know better.
Or I should.
I drag myself out of bed, rehearsing an apology in my head, like I do every morning. I'll be straightforward. Honest. I'll tell her I crossed a boundary and it won't happen again. That I respect her autonomy and understand if she's uncomfortable around me now.
