Page 7 of The Knotheads Next Door
Wells snorts. "I doubt an accountant with verifiable employment history and no criminal record is going to murder us, Jasper."
"You never know," I grumble. "Did they say if they're an alpha or beta?"
Theo and Wells exchange another one of those looks.
"What?" I demand.
"They... didn't specify," Theo admits. "I didn't ask."
I sit bolt upright. "You didn't ask? That was the one thing—"
"I'll text them now," Theo says quickly, already typing. "But it's nearly 3 a.m. there, so they might not answer right away."
I run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up. "So we have someone moving into our house in two days, and we don't even know if they meet our one basic requirement?"
"They're coming from Heraford," Wells points out reasonably. "What are the odds they're an omega? Most omegas don't live alone in big cities."
"That's a stereotype," Theo murmurs, still typing.
"A stereotype based on statistical reality," Wells counters. "Nearly eighty percent of urban single omegas live in designated housing or with family members. It's safer."
"Can we focus?" I interrupt their impromptu sociology debate. "Text them. Ask directly. "
"That seems a bit agressive—" Theo starts.
"Non-negotiable," I cut him off. "If—and it's a big if—I'm living with a stranger in my house, they better not be an omega."
"Our house," Wells corrects mildly.
"Whatever," I growl, standing up. "Let me know what they say. I'm going to bed."
I stomp up the stairs like the mature thirty-two-year-old alpha that I am, nearly missing Theo's quiet words to Wells.
"He's just worried because of what happened with Julia."
My hand tightens on the banister. They don't know the half of it.
In my bedroom, I yank open the window despite the autumn chill.
I need fresh air to clear my head of memories—of another house, another time, when I let an omega into my space and ended up with nothing but regrets and an empty bank account.
I check with Theo one last time before falling into bed. No response from the mysterious Rowan Whitley yet.
Two days. We have two days before this stranger shows up on our doorstep.
What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 3
Theo
Ibelieve in the power of first impressions. As a vet, I've learned to read a lot from that initial moment—the way an animal holds itself, the look in its eyes, the subtle signals that tell you whether it's in pain or just scared. People aren't that different, really. We all communicate in ways that go beyond words.
Which is why I'm standing on our front porch at 2:37 PM on a Friday, scanning the street like an eager golden retriever. Our new roommate is supposed to arrive "sometime after lunch," according to their last text, and I've been intermittently checking the window since noon.
"You look ridiculous," Jasper grumbles as he passes behind me, carrying a toolbox toward his workshop in the backyard. "They're not going to arrive any faster with you hovering."
"I'm being welcoming," I counter, not bothering to turn around. "Someone in this house should be."
