I’d do anything to keep up with her, so I don’t see her caffeination level as an obstacle. “You both settling in okay?”
Helena smiles. “Better, now that we’ve found the best bakery. And the beach.” She gestures at her towel, where a sandpiper is hopping perilously close to her bag. “It’s lovely here.”
Zane is less effusive, but there’s a glimmer of old camaraderie in his eye when he looks at me. “Not much has changed.”
“Except for you,” I say, and he huffs out a short laugh. “You look like you could bench-press the cliff.”
“City gyms,” he replies, dry as dust. “You should visit sometime. See how the real athletes live.”
Helena glances between us.
Lucas clocks it. “Let them have it out. Best to leave them to it. May I?” He indicates the empty space in the sand on Helena’s side opposite Zane.
Helena gestures to it. “Of course. You saved my life, after all.”
And there Zane goes, back to glowering again.
Silence fills the air between us all. It feels sudden and stilted. Awkward enough that I wonder if there’s a hope this could turn into something—anything.
Scent-matches are simply biological processes, after all. They don’t guarantee chemistry.
Lucas clears his throat—and the air. “Well, don’t let us interrupt your sunbathing.” He points to me. “He wanted to sayhi, and I wanted to check in on you after the whole riptide thing.”
“Oh, we’re not—” Helena starts, but Zane puts a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, Cole,” he says, direct and heavy with meaning. “Maybe we can catch up for a pint later? Lucas, you’re welcome too.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say.
We linger a few seconds longer to exchange numbers before Lucas and I make our exit.
Back at the lifeguard chair, Lucas props himself up and stares at the horizon, thoughtful. “You think they’ll stick around?”
“I hope so,” I admit.
He watches me for a beat, then grins. “You really are hopeless.”
I can’t deny it. My brain’s already running scenarios: beach barbecues and baking lessons, maybe even a pint with Zane at the old pub.
Lucas claps me on the back. “Take it slow, man. They’re probably gone by September. Scent-match and pack or not.”
Or not.
Lucas and I aren’t a bonded alpha pair. We’re just great friends.
There is literally nothing here saying anything must happen.
So why do I want everything to?
CHAPTER 9
Helena
We’re seatedby the window at The King’s Shell, the restaurant everyone at Seamuse swears is both the best and the worst in town depending on the day. The menu is all seafood, all the time, except for the steak and chips they keep on for stubborn tourists and children, which Zane orders without shame.
The same Zane who’s not looking at me—he’s staring, hard, at the purple of the sunset reflecting in the bay. His jaw is so tight, the muscle jumps. There are candlelight shadows on his face, making the black of his hair sharper, and the blue in his eyes almost phosphorescent. He always does this when he’s irritated—draws in on himself and counts silently to a million while waiting for me to be the first to speak.
I’m halfway through a glass of white wine, which was probably not the best choice on an empty stomach, but Zane insisted on debriefing after our eventful day at the bakery. There’s an oyster shell on my plate, a grim reminder of my “seize the summer” mantra—Omega Finishing School really drilled the shellfish test of class into us, but I only ever pretended to enjoy it.
