Page 24 of Knot So Social

I hold up my hands in surrender. “How’s the Freeman house going?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Had fifteen people through the open house, but no offers yet. Everyone’s holding out to see if the interest rates rise.”

“Tough economy,” I muse. “I wouldn’t want to be buying right now, either.”

“You’re not my type of client anyway.”

What does that mean?

I don’t like trying to guess at the insinuation behind her word. Maybe I’m not as wealthy as her regular clients, or she wouldn’t give me the time of day if we weren’t engaged? How am I supposed to interpret this whole situation?

I grip my sweatpants in a silent reminder to stay calm. The last thing I can do now is let any trace of my alpha aura escape. Maybe it’s as simple as the fact we already have a house.

Staring at the TV without even seeing the program helps me get myself under control. We never used to fight like this. Maybe we need a date night, just the two of us, without the pressure of her friendship circle. Our friend circle, I mean.

I sink a little deeper into the couch, grounding myself. I’m beat, not just from the work, but the summer heat that gets trapped in pitched roofs. It saps my energy. So does fighting with the woman I love. My eyes sink, lids heavy.

“I thought we were talking?”

Tracey’s sharp voice snaps me out of a microsleep. “We were. We are.”

“You’re so insensitive, you know that?”

Shit, is she the one trying to pick a fight? It really sounds like she won’t be happy until she’s raked me over the coals again. But I did scare her, and she didn’t deserve that. No woman does.

I scrub my hand over my face. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just so tired from work.”

“Well, try working in heels,” she shoots back.

Is this a competition or what? No, be understanding, Joel. Having our emotions in a tangle because of the fight must have been much harder on her, forced to smile at clients all day. Like Belinda cautioned, I really need to be more careful since Tracey’s sensitive to alpha pheromones.

I can do better. “Do you want to come over here, and I’ll massage your feet, babe?”

She flicks the wok off and sashays over. I know what that shake of her hips means, but maybe I’m dreaming again.

Tracey straddles my lap, her gaze clear and all signs of the winter frost gone. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course.” I smile and tuck hair behind her ear. She’s so beautiful like this, eyes soft and warm. “You just gotta be clear with me what you need, Tracey. You know work’s really taking it out of me right now.”

Her brows furrow.

“And it’s the same for you with your job,” I add hastily.

She hums, hands shifting to my sweatpants. “All right. But see if you can guess what I need this time.”

Her eyes light up in a familiar way as she tugs at my drawstring.

I chuckle softly, now wide awake. This is the lady I proposed to. Spontaneous, cheeky. Not to mention the body of a goddess.

“What you need—” I murmur, clasping her hips. “Is a massage for sure. But where?” I knead my fingers around her hip bones, and she giggles. “No, not there?”

She shakes her head.

I skim my hands higher, resting just under her breasts. Need to make sure I don’t misread any signs. Most of all, I don’t want to go back to her freezing me out.

“Here?” I ask, stroking the soft undersides.

“Maybe,” she says, voice catching when I pass over her nipples.