Page 80 of Pack Choice
“Yeah, just closing down. What are you doing here?”
“Came to ask the omega out for dinner.”
He looks me up and down. “And she turned you down? Well, there’s a first time for everything, buddy.”
“Sounds like she turned you down too,” I say leaning against the doorframe.
He frowns. What the hell went down between the two of them? The way this office reeks of her, I’m assuming perhaps my friend.
“How does she taste?” I growl.
“Better than you could ever imagine,” he says, holding my eye fiercely.
“Shit. And yet …”
“Yeah.” He scrubs his hand through his beard and switches off his computer, the screen fading to black.
“Well, seeing as we’re both free, want to invite me round for dinner?”
“Do you have your car?”
I chuckle. “Is the pope a fucking catholic? Does that omega smell wetter than the ocean all the fucking time? Yeah, I have my car, why?”
“Because you can drive us both.”
“Why? Where’s your car?”
He shuts the lid on his laptop and hooking it under his arm, grabs his jacket from the back of his door.
“I’ll explain on the way home.”
* * *
I siton one of the loungers in my friend’s backyard, bottle of beer balanced on my right thigh, watching the sun sink down below the horizon, turning the distant strip of ocean a Ferrari red.
“Here,” my friend says, stepping through the open French doors and passing me another bottle.
He drops down onto the lounger next to me with a tired sigh.
“Everything all right?” I ask, peering up towards the house behind me.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“Good,” I say, my gaze dropping back to my friend. He looks tired, exhausted. “You know I could help out more, if you wanted.”
Colt snaps off the cap of his bottle and takes a long swig. “I have help. Besides you’re River fucking Caspian. I’d be better off accepting help from a T-Rex.”
“You know I’m good at this stuff.”
Colt nods. “Yeah, you are. You’d probably do a better job at it than me.”
“Bullshit man,” I say, knocking my knee against his. “You’re doing an awesome job.”
He manages a smile.
“Some days I don’t know if I did the right thing moving here.”
“You did,” I tell him. “I like it here. You have a pool,” I say pointing to the still water in front of us, a giant inflatable pineapple floating on its surface.
