Page 22 of Knot His Reality

As I watch her walk away, my eyes drift down to her ass. She has a really nice ass.

There’s no denying her beauty, but I love how almost innocent she seems. She is a decade younger than me. I wonder if that isn’t part of the reason she seems so innocent.

Turning back to the circular driveway, I focus my attention on the limo as it pulls to a stop. I’ll have more time to consider Brooke later. Right now, I have three more suitors to meet before we sit down to dinner.

A man steps out this time. While it’s harder to tell at a distance, I’m fairly certain he’s at least six feet tall. His sepia skin is mostly hidden beneath his traditional tuxedo that hugs his shoulders and upper body. He’s well-built, though not as big as Eric. His black hair is cut close to his head while a well-kept beard covers his face.

He walks over, the lights reflecting off his black-frame glasses, and I bite my lip. I’ve always had a thing for a man in glasses.

“Good evening, Remington.”

“Hello.” I’m proud of myself when it comes out steady, not revealing just how turned on I am by a pair of glasses. I know it’s a little weird, but what can I say? It’s just my thing.

Sucking in a deep breath, I have to bite back a moan as his key lime pie scent hits me. That’s my favorite dessert, and the man standing before me smells just like one—and he’s an alpha to boot.

“I’m Lee Campbell.” He holds out his hand, shaking mine when I grasp it.

I smile, probably looking goofy as hell. “It’s nice to meet you, Lee. I love your glasses.”

He reaches up, pushing them up his nose and drawing my attention to his nut-brown eyes. “Thank you. I usually wear contacts, but they were bothering my eyes today.”

“Oh, there’s no need to wear contacts,” I blurt. “Your glasses make you sexy as hell.”

“Do they?” Lee grins, lifting his eyebrows. “That’s good to know.”

My eyes widen, and I wish I could bury my face in my hands. Instead, I just nod and ignore the blush creeping up my neck and spilling onto my cheeks. “Why don’t you tell me a little more about yourself?”

He nods, not calling any more attention to the words that fell from my lips—something I’m very grateful for. “I’m forty-two, and I work as a marketing specialist. I’m an alpha, but have been told on more than one occasion that if it weren’t for my size, they’d think I was a beta. Something about being too calm and collected to be an alpha? I hate when people stereotype us by our designation. We’re all just people, and people are different. We should celebrate those differences.”

“Here, here,” I agree. “After all, I don’t exactly fit my designation’s stereotypes, either. What do you like to do for fun?”

It turns out Lee loves the outdoors, spending most of his weekends running and hiking. I wish I had that kind of energy. Working in a lab doesn’t exactly lean into physical activity.

We talk for a few more minutes before it’s time to send him to join Brooke.

Lee seems to be a genuinely nice person, and I love that. We don’t seem to have a lot in common, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe he can help me learn to love the outdoors.

Unlikely, but anything is possible, right?

I feel more relaxed after speaking with him than I have been the entire time when it comes to meeting suitors. It’s a nice feeling.

When the next limo comes to a stop, there’s a momentary pause before the door swings open to reveal my next suitor.

Like Lee, this suitor is over six feet tall, but I think he has a few inches on the alpha I just met. His black hair is cut close on the sides in a fade, but the top is long and spiked up. I wonder how much height his hair adds—not that he needs additional height. His skin is a deep, tanned brown that speaks to someone who spends a lot of time in the sun. His black beard is thinner along his jawline but thicker around his mouth and ends at a point beneath his chin.

As he walks toward me, hints of clove and eucalyptus reach me. Based on his wide shoulders and fit build, he screams alpha—something his calming scent confirms. When he stops in front of me, he doesn’t smile as he stares at me—it’s a little disconcerting.

When he doesn’t say anything, I frown. “Ummm…hi?” It comes out as a question and not a statement, disclosing my uncertainty.

“The name’s Lorenzo. Lorenzo D’Espoito. Jersey born and bred—though I moved to LA for college about ten years ago. It wasn’t for me, so I decided to open a gym,” he says, his chocolate brown eyes never wavering from me. “I’m twenty-eight and ready and able to care for an omega.”

I hesitate for a moment, assuming he’ll continue, but when he doesn’t, I just smile.

“That’s nice. If you own a gym, you must like working out.” I’m babbling—I know it, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “I don’t get to the gym often—or ever.”

He grunts, eyes trailing over me. “That’s fine. I can help you with that. Everyone should go to the gym at least a few days a week. It keeps us healthy.”

Once again, he doesn’t offer any additional details, and I’m left trying to figure out where to go from here.

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