Page 10 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
My palms are sweating.My fucking palms are sweating and my mating gland is buzzing like a hornet.
The cause? The little snack of an omega perching on the car seat beside me, her sweet scent of coconut curling into my nostrils and tasting like a dream.
I’d never really paid her any attention before. Kim informed us she’d hired a new assistant. I was pleased. Perhaps she’d cheer up and get off our backs.
I met her new assistant twice. Both times the occasion had been fucking chaos. People running around in all directions, Kim shouting orders. I’d half-registered the pretty curvy thing scurrying around the edges, but I’d paid her no real attention.
But then she’d trotted into Kim’s office in shoes clearly too big for her tiny feet and I’d noticed her all right. How could I not when her mouth-watering scent had almost made me groan out loud? The scent and the stupidly big heels had been accompanied by huge round eyes the color of chocolate and a body that curved in all the right places.
Damn.
She set my heart thumping in my chest like Trey on his Goddamn drums.
And now here I am sitting in the car with her, expected to be both respectful and well behaved, while also feigning a relationship with the woman. Not just that, I’ve got to convince the world we’re in love.
What the actual fuck!
The only thing I’ve ever been good at performing is music. This is going to be a disaster, but less of a disaster, Kim assures me, than the world finding out I was talking bullshit on that chat show.
A Ferrari pulls out from a spot on the sidewalk and Kim swings the SUV into the spot before anyone else can pinch it. Then she snaps off her seatbelt and turns to face us both, glaring at us through her pitch-black sunglasses.
“You need to make it look convincing.”
“You told us this already.”
“But you don’t always listen to my instructions, do you, Hunter?”
The omega peers up at me from the corner of her eyes. I stay quiet. Might as well let Kim finish her lecture so we can get this shitshow over and done with.
“Take Isabella into a few shops. Make it look like you’re treating your new girlfriend. So actually buy her something, all right, Hunter? She needs to leave the store with a bag in her hand. Actually, make that several bags. We may as well use this opportunity to improve your reputation by appearing to be a generous son-of-a-bitch.”
“What’s wrong with my reputation?”
“Come on,” the omega says, flashing me a wide smile that’s all pink lips, white teeth and stupidly adorable dimples, “let’s do this!”
Then she shimmies out of the car, leaving the image of her very round ass imprinted firmly on my vision, an image that will still be there when I close my eyes tonight.
With a sense of dread hanging in my chest, I open the car door. I’m half way out, when Kim says, “Remember: hold hands.”
I slam the door and walk over to the omega’s side.
We stare at each other, and fuck this is awkward. It’s always fucking awkward when it comes to women, especially when they think they already know me and talk like we’re old friends despite the fact we’ve only just met. Despite the fact they don’t know me at all.
But this, this is a million times more awkward.
“Oh,” the omega squeals and holds out her hand to me. I stare at it. It’s so tiny compared to mine. Her fingertips aren’t covered in calluses and her nails are painted a cotton-candy pink. I’d really like to wipe my damp palm on the leg of my jeans, but she snatches my hand into hers, a hand that’s so small my own giant paw swallows hers up. “So where should we start? I’ve never actually been shopping on Rodeo Drive before.”
“Neither have I,” I say, squinting along the sidewalk, attempting to seek out whatever paparazzi Kim must have lurking here somewhere.
“You haven’t? I thought this is where the great and good come to shop.”
“The great and good who want to bephotographedshopping,” I mumble, very aware of how warm her hand feels in mine and how she swings it ever so slightly as we walk along the row of shops. She’s wearing sneakers today, with figure-hugging jeans and an oversized t-shirt, and she bounces ever so slightly on her toes like she’s actually intending to enjoy this outing. It’s probably the prospect of the shopping. Her sneakers are worn and the t-shirt has that been-washed-too-many-times look about it.
Kim’s right. I need to buy her some clothes.
We walk some more, and my hand feels like it’s scorching hers and the sun is bright in my eyes and her scent is strong in my nose.
“Where do you shop, then? If you don’t shop here.”
