Page 47 of Knot for Me
“Depends on what you’re cooking.” Cory for the win.
My stomach decides to betray me at that very second, and I cringe at the obnoxious sound it makes. Seriously, whose stomach makes this much noise?
“Uh-huh,” he says, lifting his eyebrows and glancing at my stomach. “I hope you like filet mignon. I made a red wine reduction.” He taps the masher on the side of the pot, dislodging the bits clinging to the metal. “Potatoes.” The timer on the oven beeps. “And those are the roasted veggies.”
“Hmm. That sounds acceptable.” I do not check out his cute little ass when he bends to grab the pan from the oven.
“I’m glad you approve,” he says, setting the tray on a hot pad on the counter before moving to the tray with foil wrapped meat. “These are done resting so we should be good to go.”
“I’ll grab the plates.” I start getting the table ready while he fiddles with his phone. The whooshing sound of a sent message fills the air.
“Lucas and Marco will be here soon.” Cory turns back to the food, grabbing a bowl from the counter and scooping the potatoes into it.
“Great.” I grab silverware, laying them out at each place setting and mentally preparing myself to be around Lucas. The wanton fool inside of me is giddy, hoping he’ll look at me with that lust filled gaze, but the smarter version of Reagan stomps that hope down and pulls up a wall, blocking out every lovesick omega thought.
“I love steak,” Marco says when he rounds the corner. “Hey, Rea.”
I give him a look but don’t correct him. “Hey.” I gather the wine glasses next, skipping one for me but filling the men’s. They can drink, but I need to stay in control. Alcohol will make me reckless, and I’ve already done enough damage for one day.
Lucas hasn’t come in yet. I wish he’d hurry the fuck up. I’m already an anxious mess, and he’s making it worse by delaying the inevitable. Rip the Band-Aid off. That’s easier than slowly peeling it away and drawing out the pain. My head snaps to the doorway when I feel him enter the room, my body unnaturally attuned to his. Fucking omega instincts. Now I look like I’m desperate to see him again.
Sitting down, I look out the window and wait for them to sit so we can get this meal over with. I should take a plate to my room, but Cory spent so much time preparing the food. I don’t want to be rude.
“Here you go.” Cory places a filet on my plate before moving on to the guys.
I grab the vegetable dish and spoon out the roasted broccoli and cauliflower. Marco snatches the potatoes before I can, shooting me a smug look and dropping a heaping spoonful on my plate.
“I can serve myself,” I tell him.
“I know.” He dishes some out on his plate then hands them to Lucas. “I was helping.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, eyes catching on Lucas.
He’s staring at me, holding the bowl of potatoes so hard his knuckles have turned white. I frown a little, and his gaze narrows. I bite my lip, and his curls in disgust.
Right. He doesn’t like me.
You don’t have to like someone to fuck them.
I drop my gaze, and they finish getting their food. When I go to cut into my steak, Lucas clears his throat. I lift my eyes, raising an eyebrow at the three of them.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“We wanted to ask you something.” Marco glances at Lucas.
Oh no. Here comes what I’ve been dreading. They want me to be their omega. Fuck. I knew this was going to happen. These alphas were too good to be true from the start.
“Yes.” Lucas sits back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you want to leave?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he says, growling slightly. “Do you want to leave?”
“Chill, dude. You have no tact. Jesus.” Cory releases a hard breath. “What Lucas is trying to say is, if you would like to leave our pack, you can. We don’t want you to stay if you’re not happy.”
What is happening?
“Did I do something?”
