Page 15
His scent is subdued and doused with saltwater, but up close it’s more intense, and I want to sip each anxious breath straight from his lips.
Stupid alpha logic.
“Okay. No sudden movements.” Treading water, I loop an arm over his lower back before my omega tries to fall in again.
No. Not my omega. The omega. An omega. A complete stranger.
His skin is far too warm for a swim in the Pacific, and he’s breathing too fast, skin over ribs like a fledgling bird. Shit. Is he going into heat? Is that why he’s affecting me like this?
“Are you…” I trail off. How the fuck do I ask that? If I were him, I’d probably rather drown than face the awkwardness. “Are you okay?”
Blush dusts his cheeks as he lifts his head and meets my gaze with doe eyes a pale shade of hazel. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Can you swim?”
His statuesque brows wrinkle. “Of course I can. I was trying to rescue you.”
I sputter. “Rescue me? What?”
His pert nose twitches, and it’s annoyingly adorable. “You were under the water for a really long time. I was worried.”
“I was fine. The first rule of rescuing someone is: don’t, unless you’re a lifeguard.”
Alden and I had the quintessential south Orange County junior lifeguard experience—a summer training camp culminating with a jump off the end of the pier. But I actually worked as one every summer to earn extra cash.
“Thanks for the attempt, though,” I add, but still sound like a condescending dick. “And for your um… chivalry.”
A dimple flashes on his upturned cheek as he smirks. He looks very pretty when he smirks. No. Not pretty. I’m not falling for a damsel omega in distress.
He shivers and eyes the water with concern. “Aren’t you going to get on here too?”
“Nah. I’m good.”
“But what about sharks?”
“What about them?”
He peers at the water again. “What if there’s one down there.”
“There aren’t any sharks. I think.” I tighten my grip on the other side of the board and reach down to unlatch my board leash.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking for sharks.”
His eyes narrow. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m going to slip the leash onto your ankle in case you fall off again.” I wait for him to nod before fastening it around his ankle, ignoring the way his calf flexes and his breath catches.
He’s quiet for a beat. “But what if a shark bites the board and now I’m attached to it?”
“I’ll wrestle it while you make a clean getaway.”
He laughs and it sounds like motherfucking wedding bells. “My hero.”
I swallow hard. “You remind me of my friend.”
“Your smart friend who has a healthy fear of sharks?”
