Page 64 of Knot for Me
Cory chokes on a laugh.
“Laugh it up now. You’ll see soon enough what I mean.” Jefferson shakes his head. “I need to get the papers.”
“Right. Thanks for checking first, Reagan. Pack safety is everything.”
I stand a little straighter at Cory’s praise, happy I did the right thing. “Of course. See you later.”
“Lock the door, Jefferson.”
“You got it, alpha.” He disconnects the call and sighs. “You’re such a shit talker.”
“That’s why Amelie and I get along.”
He tucks his phone away. “Yeah, she needs a good friend. A lot of women have a hard time with her. I’m hoping you’ll be able to treat her right.”
“I promise not to sleep with her without a condom and take her on at least three dates before I try to get in her pants.”
A soft growl spreads between us.
“Settle down, killer. I’m not interested in Amelie. She’s a thespian.”
“Why is that a turn off?” he asks, confused and not at all aware of the inside joke. That’s fine, I’ll leave him confused.
“Ask Amelie. She knows why.”
He frowns. “Women are weird.”
“Aren’t you going to be late?” I prompt, jutting my chin in the direction of the rest of the house.
“Oh fuck.” He rushes off to grab his papers. A door shuts after a few minutes, and he jogs down the hall. “Catch ya later, Reagan.” I wave and listen as he locks the front door from the outside, securing me inside the mansion and leaving me alone once more.
Blowing out a breath, I giggle, thinking about what Amelie’s face will look like when he asks her why I’m not into thespians.
ChapterSixteen
REAGAN
A few days pass without much excitement, unless you count getting my cute little house slippers and my ass kicked by Marco as fun. He’s insisting we train four nights a week, and while I’m no stranger to the gym, his idea of a workout and mine are drastically different. We still practice self-defense, but on top of that he demands fifteen minutes of cardio followed by weights. Which is why I wake up on Friday with sore muscles and a bad attitude even my aqua slippers can’t fix.
My phone dings, and I growl softly, rolling over to swat at the offending device. The message from my sister is what woke me up.
Megan: Are you surviving? Do you feel any different? Your heat is in two weeks. Eek!
She is far too enthusiastic about the thing I’ve been dreading my entire life.
Reagan: My boobs hurt.
I don’t tell her that’s because I did the chest press yesterday and Marco made me press more than I ever have on my own.
Megan: Interesting. I wonder if they’ll get bigger.
I send her an eye roll emoji.
Reagan: That’s not how it works, Meg. You know that.
Megan: *grumpy sigh* one can hope.
I laugh. We’ve complained about our C-cups together. They’re not tiny, but they’re not big either.
