Page 6 of The Knotheads Next Door
Wells raises an eyebrow. "Bit prejudiced there, Carpenter."
"It's not prejudice, it's practicality," I argue, even as I feel my neck heating up. "Three unmated alphas and an omega under one roof? It's asking for trouble."
"We're not animals, Jas," Theo says gently. "We can control ourselves."
"It's not about control," I mutter, though maybe it is, a little. "It's about... complications."
"No omegas," Wells agrees, though he's still giving me that look that says he thinks I'm being unreasonable. "Theo'll put up a listing tonight."
Three days later, I'm attempting to undo the damage that some DIY enthusiast did to the Henderson's bathroom vanity (who uses a hammer to install a faucet?), when my phone pings with a group text.
Theo:Got a response to the listing. Rowan Whitley. Accountant. Just lost a job, needs a place ASAP. References available. Seems normal?
I frown at my phone.Did you check references?
Working on it, Wells replies immediately.
Of course he's already done a background check. Wells probably has a subscription to some sketchy investigative service for exactly this purpose.
What did their message say?I text back.
Theo sends a screenshot. The message is brief, slightly desperate, and oddly... charming?
Something about baking and sharing snacks. Weird, but not serial killer weird.
Meet them first, I type.In person. Public place.
They're not in town. Coming from the city, Theo replies.We don't have time for that if we want rent by the first of the month.
My jaw clenches. He's right, but I don't have to like it.
Fine.But we should talk about a trial, I respond.Not a day longer unless we ALL agree.
Deal, Theo sends back, with a thumbs-up emoji that somehow feels smug even in text form.
I toss my phone aside and go back to fixing the Hendersons' mangled vanity, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut. Something about this doesn't sit right, but I can't put my finger on why.
Maybe it's just the idea of a stranger in our space. Someone using our shower, eating in our kitchen, walking through the living room that we've spent three years renovating whenever I had the cash for materials.
Or maybe it's because the house is the only thing the three of us share that's truly ours—mine, Theo's, and Wells's. Not a formal pack bond, not yet. But something close. Something that feels like it could become more, if we let it.
And now we're inviting someone else in.
That night, I'm half-asleep on the couch when I hear Theo's excited whoop from upstairs, followed by the sound of his footsteps thundering down.
"They said yes!" he announces, waving his phone like it contains the winning lottery numbers. "They can be here by Friday!"
Wells looks up from his laptop, where he's been working on something for the mayor's office.
"That's... fast."
"Exactly what we need," Theo counters. "The quicker they get here, the quicker we start getting rent."
"What do we know about them?" I ask, sitting up straighter. "Besides the fact that they're desperate enough to move in with three strangers?"
Theo's grin falters slightly. "Well, we know they're an accountant. And they bake."
"Oh good, so when they murder us in our sleep, at least we'll have cookies first," I mutter.
