I inhale, catching his perfume.What is that scent?I want to inhale again, but it would be too noticeable. Whatever it is, it smells amazing to my senses. Fruity and tangy all at once, my mouth waters. Would his lips taste the same?
“Uh, the diner on Main Street,” I reply, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “I’m a waitress there.”
“I used to love that little place,” Chad says with a grin, and there’s no mistaking the playful glint in his eye. “Maybe I’ll come by and get some food.”
I can feel my face heating up again, and I’m torn between wanting to stay and feeling like I need to escape before I make an even bigger fool of myself. “I’ll, um, keep an eye out for you,” I say, trying to sound casual, but my voice is a little shaky.
Dean shifts, crossing his large arms over his expansive chest with his racket still in his fist. He clenches his jaw, and I can practically hear the grinding of his teeth. I shake it off and glance at Chad again.
“Well, I better go,” I say, trying to force a smile. “Don’t want to be late.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” Chad says, his tone teasing. “But don’t worry, Lakelyn—I’ll definitely be seeing you soon. I’m not about to let you off that easily.”
I manage a small smile, even though my heart’s pounding in my chest. “See you later,” I say, turning to leave before I lose my nerve.
As I walk away, I can feel both of their eyes on me—one warm and intense, the other cold and distant. And I can smell my own muted perfume coming from my sweat. Blueberry pie, tart and sweet at the same time. At least it isn’t lavender or roses, I’d prefer fruity over flowery everyday. Although, musk on alphas, Ilike the sort that reminds me of nature. Like a hike in the woods or a day at the beach. But whatever perfume Chad has, it’s stuck with me, if only I could place it.
Thoughts of him swirl around throughout the day. I barely notice when Mason slides into a booth in my section, but as soon as I see him, a grin pulls at my lips. He stops by during most of my shifts, and I’m pretty sure my brother sends him to check up on me. Not that I mind. There’s something about Mason’s smile that always fills me with warmth.
He’s the kind of guy who looks right at home on a construction site or under the hood of a car, with muscles that fill out his shirt sleeves just right and an edgy vibe from his ripped jeans. Not that he’s particularly interested in either of those things. He likes art. The art that’s drawn all over his skin is only part of the story.
Art’s one of the things we bonded over as teens, much to my brother's annoyance. We might have grown up with money, but Dad insisted we go to public school—said it would build character. That’s how we met Mason. Now, tattoos peek out from beneath the fabric and snake down his arms, giving him a dangerous edge that’s softened by the warmth in his green eyes.
His nose is slightly crooked—a reminder of the fight he picked with the guy who broke my heart back when we were in high school. And that smile of his, full and toothy, is absolutely contagious.
He wears his dark hair in a man bun, the strands silky and smooth, and there’s something about the way it contrasts with his rough, tanned skin that makes him impossible to ignore. I’d love to run my fingers through it.
He has omegas falling all over themselves just to get his attention. And I don’t blame a single one of them. Because he’s sex walking.
I’d never dare make a move on him—my brother would have a fit. He probably wouldn’t care that I asked Dean out, but Mason would be crossing a line he laid down so many years ago. Guess having your twin date your best friend is a big no.
But sometimes I catch myself thinking about him in ways I shouldn’t. Especially on those nights that feel like forever ago, when he would stay the night at my parent’s house, and I would touch myself in the dark with his name on my lips. That was before I knew I was a beta, when I still dreamed of being an omega. Of being someone that he might notice.
Before I can stop myself, the words tumble out of my mouth: “Have you thought about us…together?”
Oh. My. God.Where the fuck is my filter? I’m malfunctioning. First I tell a complete—hot as hell—stranger that I'm a virgin. Now I’m asking my brother’s best friend if he thinks about us having sex.
I’m mortified, my face instantly flushing as red as a cherry tomato. I snap my mouth shut and focus on the order pad I’m gripping like a lifeline, desperately trying to pretend I didn’t just say that out loud. Am I sick? Did I bump my head? What on earth would make me askMasonthat?
“Oh, wow, just pretend that didn’t just happen.” I lift my eyes to his, afraid of what I’ll find.
Mason blinks, his usual confident grin slipping for just a second as my words register. He’s caught off guard, and I can tell he’s trying to process what just happened. When he recovers, his eyes soften, a mix of surprise and something else—something deeper—shining through.
“Lake,” he says, his voice low and careful, “you really just asked that, didn’t you?”
I drop my gaze back to my order pad. I can’t look at him, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I... I didn’t mean it that way,” I mumble, still staring at my fingers gripping the pad. It’sobvious he isn’t going to pretend like I didn’t say that, so I add, “It’s just... You’re, well, you’re you, and I thought maybe?—”
“Maybe?” he prompts gently, his tone almostencouraging.
I finally dare to glance back up at him, and there’s a tenderness in his gaze that I’ve never noticed before. It makes my heart skip a beat. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” I admit softly, being drawn into the warmth. “You’ve always been... safe. But also, you’re not exactly inexperienced.”
Mason’s chuckle echoes in my ears, and the playful grin that usually makes me feel so at ease suddenly feels like it’s mocking me. He leans back, throwing his arm over the back of the booth, and there’s a hint of something in his eyes that I can’t quite place—something that makes me feel small and foolish.
“Safe…” he repeats, and the corner of his mouth kicks up in a self-deprecating smile. “Right. That’s what every guy wants to be called. No wonder you’re perpetually single, Lakelyn.”
His words hit me like a slap. The warmth that had filled me moments ago vanishes, replaced by a cold embarrassment that creeps up my neck and settles into my chest. I try to laugh it off, but it comes out strained, forced.
“And why the hell are you just randomly throwing out that question, Lake?” Mason continues, shaking his head like he can’t believe what I’ve just said. “You’re Landon’s sister. Of course I haven’t thought about you that way. He would kill me.”
