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I was still a little bothered by the idea of him possibly staying out too late. Josh said one of his waitresses had gone out with them later and that she’d even invited Jax to go along. Even thinking about Jax going to a place like Kyle and Josh had been to—a club calledForbidden Underground—made me crazy. Just the name seemed unsavory. It was a small, speakeasy style bar, owned by a man named Metterhoff, and from what I understood, a wild element frequented the place. Not a place I wanted my omega to hang out.
Not that he was necessarilymyomega. I’d know more for sure when I saw him again. I decided I’d give him until lunchtime, and then drop by casually, as if I had simply come in to eat. I might even sample some of his fare, while I closely observed him. I felt sure I’d discover that he was not nearly as pretty as I remembered and while I might still have a slightpenchantfor him, I knew I wasn’t—absolutely could not be—in love.
I’d only seen him once, so the very idea was ludicrous.
Kyle had brought the car around, so I went downstairs and got in for the ride to my temporary office. I had a busy day ahead, with a meeting with the construction manager who was doing renovations to my building, not to mention another meeting with a design firm Ashworth had set up for me. Both came highly recommended, as they should have, considering what they were charging me.
By one o’clock I was stepping through the front door ofBake Love, Not War. It was an odd name for a sandwich shop or bakery or whatever it was, but it suited Jax Jordan in a way, as omegas were normally peace-loving, gentle souls. It was busy inside, so I stood for a moment by the door, looking around for a table. I spotted one in the back by a large window and went over to sit down.
A busboy at a nearby table—short and slim, with hair an improbable shade of purple, tossed his head toward the cash register in front and grinned.
“You have to go up and order at the register, man, and then they’ll call you to come pick up your food.”
“Pardon?Were you speaking to me?”
“Yeah, I was just telling you that nobody will come over to the table to take your order. You have to go to the register.”
“How extraordinary. But how on earth am I supposed to know what to order? There aren’t any menus on the tables.”
He stacked a few more dishes in his plastic bin and grinned again. “You’re not from around here, are you? What is that accent? French?”
“I fail to see what my accent, as you call it, has to do with the situation. Fetch me a menu, please, since you seem to be employed here.”
“That’s just it, dude, we don’t have any menus. See that blackboard behind the register? The specials are written on there. Or you can pick something up from the display case. Your choice.”
Before I could reply to that bit of outrageousness, a perky voice spoke up from behind me. “You must be Dominic. Hi, I’m Hailey—I know your brother, Josh.”
The voice belonged to a small Asian girl with hair an absurd shade of green. Why on earth was everyone’s hair so strange? She had what looked like a shiny piece of some shiny substance through her nose like an indigenous Australian or African tribeswoman might wear a bone. These people were unlike any I’d dealt with.
“You know my brother?”
“Yes. We went toUndergroundlast night. Oh, and Josh went too. He’s fun.”
“Hmm.” I’d heard my brother and my cousin described in various way, but “fun” was new.
“Tell me, madam, do you work in this establishment?”
“I sure do.”
“Might you provide me with a menu then?”
“I would if I could, but we don’t have any. Why don’t you let me choose for you, and I can just bring you a sandwich I think you’d like? You look to me like you’d enjoy our turkey cranberry brie and pear. It’s to die for. Or if you’re feeling something hot, a grilled chicken pesto panini. Both are primo.”
I wasn’t familiar at all with her slang, if that was what it was, but I sighed and just agreed with her. It seemed easier. “I suppose the first one you mentioned will be all right. And a water with gas.”
She looked at me blankly, so I sighed again, remembering I was in America.
“Perrier, if you have it,” I said, clarifying, I hoped.
“Oh, you mean sparkling water. Sure, we probably have that. Or maybe we do. Not sure if it’s Perrier, though. I’ll be right back.”
She took off and I saw the young man with the dishes still staring at me, but then a loud voice from the front called out to him. “Damon! Could you clear table four, please? We have customers waiting.”
It was Jax Jordan, and he turned his head then and stared right at me. I returned his scrutiny, and he frowned and began to walk toward me. I found I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the seductive sway of his hips.
“You’re here,” he said when he reached me, with his usual firm grasp of the obvious. He stopped beside my table, and I couldn’t resist a little sniff of him. I’d already caught his scent in the air, but the place was full of people wearing all manner of colognes, and he was still standing a few feet away. I found his scent quite tolerable. Pleasant, but not overwhelming, and I began to think I was correct in my earlier assumption that I must have greatly exaggerated the whole incident in my mind the night before. I blamed it on the jetlag. He smelled sweet and a little like soap. Also he had a kind of sugary scent, but nothing I couldn’t withstand. The idea that this little blond omega might be my true mate seemed more and more unlikely, and I began to relax.
“I am here, indeed, as you see,” I replied, leaning back in my chair, feeling almost cocky now. “Won’t you join me?”
