Page 57 of Love Me Knot, Part One (Knotty Omegas #1)

NATE

I rush into work late, tugging on my shirt as I go. Normally, I’d be dressed before entering the building, but it can’t be helped.

See, we did something potentially stupid.

Well, we think it’s a good idea, but I’m not so sure Daphne will agree.

Yesterday, we signed the papers on said stupidity and this morning, I started looking for the biggest part of my courting present.

Since it’s far bigger than some nesting supplies and definitely more than bare minimum, I sense a fight on my hands.

Fingers crossed, I don’t get eaten alive when she finds out. Unless it’s the fun way. I could get down with some eating right now.

Focus, dipshit. We’re at work.

Right. Time to charm a client I hate.

Shoving into the meeting room, I give Sawyer, Dez, and Con my most apologetic face. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s fine. Moore isn’t here yet.” Connor looks me up and down, frowning as I do up the last of my buttons. “If you’re coming in here smelling like Daphne…”

“I would never.” No way am I letting other people smell her perfume if I can avoid it. “Had to get her courting present squared away, and it took longer than expected. Won’t happen again.”

“Will definitely happen again,” Sawyer corrects with a grin as I circle the table handing out hugs. “New omegas always fuck up schedules.”

Connor sighs, looking exhausted. “We’ll do our best to keep the interruptions to a minimum.”

Dez and I frown, but he’s the one to say it. “Daphne’s not an interruption or an imposition. If she hears you say that…”

The statement doesn’t need to be finished. Daph’s already struggling to accept our courtship because of her exes. If she thinks she’s affecting our lives negatively, she’ll walk away without a second glance no matter how she feels.

“That’s not what I meant.” Connor’s crestfallen, and I sweep him into a hug.

“We know that, but she doesn’t. We have to watch what we say.”

Especially him. Con’s spent years drowning in work to avoid his feelings and while he’s trying to do better, this is still so new. I don’t want him to hyper-focus so much on therapy and shoring up the business that he forgets Daphne’s a living, breathing person who needs time and attention.

The phone in the corner of the room beeps, Missy’s flat voice interrupting. “Moore is here.”

“Thanks, Miss.”

Because I’m closest, I head for the door, but Connor stops me. “Be good, Nate.”

“I’m always good.”

Maybe less so with Moore, but who could blame me? He’s twenty-five, rich and entitled beyond belief. On our last project together, Connor was so stressed he nearly had to be sedated. And for what? Bullshit someone’s brother’s friend’s cousin told Moore that wasn’t even remotely true.

So, yeah. I’m not a fan of the little punk.

I’d be fine kicking him off our roster altogether, but Con’s twitchy about losing money, especially now that Daphne’s agreed to court us.

How many times have I heard him muttering to himself about how expensive omegas can be?

Yet another thing he needs to watch around Daph.

The walk to reception is short and in no time, I’m standing in front of the quintessential frat boy. His shoes cost more than my favorite wrench and he’s got this awful little neck chain I’m sure he thinks makes him look cool.

“Moore,” I say carefully, waving him toward the conference room. “We’re ready for you.”

“Nice to see you still keep customers waiting. Some things never change.”

Be nice to the client, I remind myself. Do it for Connor. He can’t handle more stress right now.

In the fifteen seconds it takes to make it to the others, Moore makes two more stupid comments that have me considering if I can toss him off the building. The only thing keeping me in check is imagining all the shit I can do for Daphne with his cash.

Bath bombs. Hair masks. Spa days. Oooh, couple’s massage.

As the others shake hands, I find a seat as far away from Moore as possible. No fucking way am I getting stuck next to him. That’s Sawyer’s job now.

Connor’s in full diplomat mode, with a careful expression and polite tone. “Thank you for coming to see the design, AJ. We’re excited to hear your thoughts.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Even if it’s a shitshow from start to finish, you always pull it out in the end.”

Dez meets my eye, and I can almost hear him whisper, d on’t punch the guy.

Jokes on him. I’m too busy thinking about a collection of silk robes to care anymore. Does Daphne make hers? I guess I could buy the silk, then find out. Oh, shit. What if she made more of those cute little pajama sets with the shorts that flash ass every time she moves?

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 kid enjoys throwing 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 communication boundaries out of respect for his work-life balance.” Dez’s smile is polite, but his body language screams try 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 a mechanic’s opinion.

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 of I can’t hear you s 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 Daphne enjoys the 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 know exactly the 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 out anything 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.”