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Connor kicks me under the table with a stern glance, reminding me without words that we do not get turned on at work.

Save it for home. I can do that.

The meeting drones on with Moore’s typical bullshit response to the masterpiece Connor’s designed. He wants custom rims, premium leather seats, and bulletproof windows like he’s a fucking spy. The timeline gets tighter with every addition and the budget’s already overdrawn, but he doesn’t care. I swear, the kidenjoysthrowing buckets of money around.

With the art finally approved, Connor sits up a little straighter. “Before we end the meeting, we want to let you know things are changing at Morgan Restorations. Sawyer will be taking over as your primary contact, starting immediately.”

Our GM leans over, hand out to shake. “It’s great to have you back, Mr. Moore. I’m excited to be?—”

“No.” Moore doesn’t even look at our employee.

The fucking gall.

Connor’s expression tightens, but he doesn’t back down. “Yes. Due to competing priorities, my pack and I are unable to act as client contacts anymore.”

Sawyer tucks his hand away, nothing betraying his frustration at being ignored. “I hear you like being in communication often, so if you need something, you can call or shoot me a text. I’ll even give you my personal number.”

“Actually, we’re getting Sawyer a work phone that he can keep on him, though we will enforce strict communicationboundaries out of respect for his work-life balance.” Dez’s smile is polite, but his body language screamstry me.

Moore sneers. “This is bullshit. Do you know how much money I give you?”

“Exactly how much the contract states and whatever you choose to offer beyond it.” Connor stands, dominance leaking from him to take up all the extra space around us. “I understand this is frustrating, but times change. We can’t personally oversee everything anymore. You can always reach out if there’s an issue Sawyer can’t solve, but he’s your go-to from now on.”

AJ’s gearing up for a fight and I consider staying, helping to smooth over the frayed nerves of our least favorite client. Then I realize the laundry list of stuff I need to make right for my omega is a far better use of my time than blowing smoke up some rich dude’s ass. Especially one that’s made it obvious that he doesn’t trust amechanic’sopinion. Best leave all that bullshit to Connor, because if I stay, I’m going to punt the kid into his next lifetime.

With a jaunty wave and a case ofI can’t hear yous as Moore loses his mind, I’m out the door and headed back to the house. There’s something I need to do.

Every night, Daphne curls up in my arms and whispers her truths. Sometimes they make my heart feel all squishy, and other times they piss me off. A few days after Connor apologized, she told me something that’s stuck in my head ever since.

“I keep thinking it would be great to have my friends over sometime. They never got to visit the pack house because my exes didn’t like them. Now that I’m here…”

She’s pressed close to my chest, hand resting over my stomach. It’s her favorite spot to relax and I’ll admit, even if I’ve never been all that self-conscious about my body, I like that she appreciates it. I’m not as ripped as Dez or as lean as Connor, but Daphneenjoysthe differences between us. She’s happy snuggling into my belly, reminding me how soft and safe I am. We match, my sweet little omega with her round belly and thick thighs.

“You should do it, kitten. Have them over for dinner or something. We’d love to meet them.” Daph’s told us so much about her group of besties, the family she built when her world was collapsing. Now that her exes are gone, she deserves to have them in her home whenever she wants.

She yawns, burrowing into me with a happy chirp. “I’d like a little party, but the yard is so cramped, and I don’t have time to plan anything. Maybe someday.”

Ever since that night, I’ve been waiting for the right time to tear this old ass fence out. Daphne deserves to host her friends whenever she wants, without worrying about space. She deserves to have her support system in her home. What the fuck kind of partners would want her so fucking isolated?

Trick question, I knowexactlythe type of people to do that and I fucking hate them for what they’ve put her through. Hence me deciding to DIY the backyard.

Unlike the front of the house, we don’t share space here, with each part of the duplex getting its own outdoor area and deck. Daph’s yard is too cramped to do much with, but combined with ours, it’s the perfect size for a gathering of besties. The grass and gardens are a little worse for wear, but some elbow grease and a lot of plants will make it look brand new.

My muscles ache as the fence goes down post by post. By the time I’m done, I’m hot and sweaty, but pleased at the pile of splintered wood nearby. I’ll have to come back and dig outanything still in the ground, but at least the fence is gone. Bonus, I feel a little less feral than I did earlier.

Apparently, you get some serious stress relief by taking a sledgehammer to shit and pretending it’s your girlfriend’s exes.

“The landlord’s gonna be pissed.”

Daphne’s voice finds me a split-second before her scent. The sledgehammer slips out of my hand, and the world blurs as I sprint her way.

Need omega.

She squeals and even from here, I can see her eyes dilate, prey drive spiking as her alpha chases. With a frantic glance around, Daph bolts for her side of the yard.

Nope. Not happening. I let out a low growl that stalls her, pushing my legs so I can pick her up before she gets close to the construction zone.

Her legs dangle as she fights, expression open and happy. “Nate, put me down. You’re all sweaty!”