I blink.
“That was supposed to be our thing!” She points accusingly at me.
“I’m sorry!”
She grins suddenly. “Just kidding. Tell me all about it.”
I laugh and take another sip of my drink. “It was to celebrate,” I say. “Graham finished mapping the scent sequence for omegas.”
Cammie’s eyes light up. “That’s huge.”
“And Saint got cleared to return to regular duty.”
“So he’ll be working every third day?”
“Yeah.”
“So aside from great food with a beautiful view, what happened?”
I groan. “Oh god.”
“Do not make me wait! I'm living vicariously through you right now," she whisper-yells. "My dating life is currently a dry, knotless, dickless desert and you owe me every detail.”
“They decided it was the perfect time to discuss my heat boundaries. Right there in a fancy restaurant while we drank a two-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne.”
Cammie chokes on her margarita. “Two thousand! I thought these guys were attainable wealthy, not richy-rich.” She gasps as she blots up the spilled liquid with a paper napkin.
Once she has the spill cleaned, she continues. “Lark, you’re their scent-sensitive mate.”
“I know.”
“You literally belong to them biologically.”
“I know.”
“So why are you shy about talking about sex with them?”
“Um, because we were in a restaurant.”
She narrows her eyes. "We'rein a restaurant."
My eyes travel around the room, and sigh. “Because Graham gets a little excited and talks too loud.” That part, at least, is true.
She narrows her eyes even more, though. She’s a human omission detector. Always has been.
I huff. “Fine! Because Saint was sitting right there looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. We’re not there yet.”
Cammie waves a hand dismissively. “You need to omega-up and tell that man to step in line.”
I choke on my drink.
“Bark at him if you have to.”
“Cammie.”
“What?” she says. “A well-timed omega bark can fix a lot of problems.”
I shake my head, laughing. “I don’t want it to be like that.”
