Page 54 of Knot So Social

Covering a cough, I run one finger down the page. “How does she like to do her heats?”

Debbie sighs and leans on the back of a chair. “That’s the problem. This is her first heat with us, and her first cycle in a couple of years. It will very much be a process of testing your way through and asking her directly as you go.” She slumps down low. “To me she sounded pretty triggered, so you’ll need to be gentle and go slow. Normally we’d never dream of putting a new officer with a new client, but—”

“You’re short staffed,” I supply.

She flashes a floppy grin. “Right. Simon’s just come off shift, and Kaden’s on leave. Plus Rhett, Angel, and Luca are out on a combined job.” With one hand she readjusts her hair. “If you don’t get certified in time, God help us.”

“How long do I have left?” I ask.

She checks her watch. “You need to get over to the first aid training by 2pm.”

I check the time on my phone. “Okay. I’ll skim the theory again and head out.”

She nods. “Just so you know, the management don’t take things like this lightly. You go over and above, and they look after you. I don’t want you thinking anyone’s taking advantage. This is a great workplace.”

“Thanks. I wasn’t worried, but now I’m even less worried.”

Debbie laughs and heads out. Once she’s gone, I pull the client sheet closer. Yeah, I need to study, but I can’t resist reading every line of Willow’s profile twice over. She’ll be my first—first on duty, I mean—and I don’t want to screw this up.

As I stare at my future client, a rush of energy swarms through me. I’ll definitely get all the paperwork finished by tomorrow so I can be certified, even if I have to study all night. I’ll do everything in my power to support this omega through her heat.

So long as we keep feelings out of it, like Simon suggested, it’ll be fine.

I tap my finger over Willow Sheldon’s profile photo. What exactly happened to such a beautiful woman that left her traumatized by her heats?

Chapter seventeen

Jeremy

My first day on the new job dawns with a boatload of nerves. After a long drive across the city, I pull up outside an imposing wrought iron gate set in the middle of a massive brick wall and recheck the address. Am I really in the right place, in this suburb of mansions perched on manicured acres? The governor probably lives down the street.

Head wise, we all know this kind of wealth exists, but to walk amongst it? Phew, that’s next level. And now, if I’m in the right place, I’m about to help an omega from one of these high-class families.

I climb out of my truck and tuck my hair under my hat, thankful I got a haircut while waiting for my last certification sign off. This is it, the moment I’ve been simultaneously dreading and longing for.

I press the buzzer on the marble pillar.

A female voice comes through the intercom, soft and raspy. “Yes?”

“Hello.” I take off my hat and clasp it to my chest, smiling at the panel. “My name is Jeremy, and I’m from Heat Wave.”

The voice channel sits silent.

I flex my toes inside my boots. “Am I in the right place?”

“Yes, you are. Drive in.”

The heavy gate rolls sideways, opening my path to the house at the top of a slight incline. My heart pounds against my breastbone. What if the omega takes one look at me and tells me to leave? Or what if there are other family members in the house who’ll be supervising? Surely just one person couldn’t be living alone in this gigantic house.

I climb back into my truck and idle up the driveway, taking in the beautiful garden with its green lawns, neat hedging, and elegant lanterns lining the path. White gravel crunches under my tires as the vehicle rolls, forming a kind of percussion fanfare.

I pull up past the front steps and take a quick look around before popping my rut-prevention pill. Can’t have me losing focus in there and going rogue. And now it’s go time. I grab my duffel bag and Heat Wave kit from the tray and check my clothes are neat. My truck, with its peeling paint, looks totally out of place against a backdrop of affluence.

Its driver probably looks even more out of place.

“Buck up, Jeremy,” I mutter under my breath.

The front door opens and a blonde goddess hovers just inside the threshold. My mouth dries up. Her picture? Gorgeous. But it didn’t do the woman standing before me any justice. The blouse and skirt combo she’s wearing reveals long legs, a torso just a little shorter, and generous breasts. Her long blonde hair hangs over one shoulder.