“It’s not the location,” Ace says.
Luca folds his arms. “It’s how much he was talking this morning about finally having you to himself for a few hours.”
I stare at them.
Then it clicks.
Oh.
OH!
Heat climbs straight up my neck.
Ace’s mouth curves. “Yeah.”
I clear my throat with as much dignity as possible. “Well. That sounds… fun. I can’t wait.”
Neither of them says anything. They just keep staring at me, and I point between them. “Do not make that face.”
“Maybe we should come,” Luca says.
“Nope,” I say immediately. “You’re busy and extremely committed to your training.”
Ace laughs. “You sure?”
“Yep.”
I back away toward the deck before either of them can make this worse, then slip outside so I can get dressed in the shack, as my clothes are still there.
If North is taking me out somewhere, I want actual clothes for the adventure.
And maybe a minute alone to get my pulse under control before I have to spend time with the Alpha who has apparently been talking about finally getting me to himself.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting in North’s truck, my backpack in the rear seat. It’s enormous and silver and sits so high off the ground that climbing into the passenger seat requires climbing gear.
I pull the door shut, and his scent floods the truck completely. Pine and woodsmoke and, underneath them both, that salted caramel warmth, all of it so immediate and layered that I close my eyes for exactly three seconds and just breathe.
When I open them, he’s watching me. “You good?”
“Amazing, in fact.”
The corner of his mouth pulls upward, and damn him and that square jaw, the glint in his stare, the thick eyebrows that crown the most captivating brown eyes. “Ready?”
I nod and we’re moving. After the gates of their property open, he rolls us out onto the road and accelerates. Oahu begins sliding past on both sides, the coast on one side, mountains onthe other, brilliant and soothing in the morning. I stare at his hands on the wheel. They’re large and strong, one resting easy on the top while the other controls the gear.
He catches me staring and wears a smug little grin. “You keep doing that…” he says, leaving the sentence unfinished.
My pulse gives one stupid kick. “Doing what?” I play dumb.
“Watching me like you’re trying to figure out whether I’m about to behave or make your life harder.”
His voice is low enough to sink straight under my skin. God, that voice. Deep and steady and completely unfair in a confined space. I shift in my seat, angling my face toward the window, and the ocean is suddenly the most fascinating thing on earth. It isn’t. It’s the man driving this truck in a faded shirt with his forearm flexing every time he changes gears.
“Maybe both,” I say.
His mouth twitches at one corner. “Honestly?”
I shrug and give him a playful smile.
