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“Damn.” That sucks, but it’s admirable that he still flew all the way from Hawaii to support his pack mates. It’s respectable and shows just how strong their pack bond is. Good for them.
For the millionth time, I consider what it might be like to be a part of a pack, even though I’ve never had a strong inkling to form one. I enjoy the solo life, coming and going as I please. No one to answer to, no one to be responsible for. No one to worry about like I worry about myself, no one to hold me back.
I’d never be a suitable mate for any alpha pack, and it’s best I stop thinking about it.
Pack life just isn’t for me.
“Yeah, he’s being a good sport about it,” Denzel nods, taking a swig from a metal flask before slipping it back into his pocket. “He swears he’s coming out to watch the warmups tomorrow, but we’ll see.”
“He might crawl down to the shoreline if he has to,” Ryan laughs. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Denzel and I laugh along with him before our attention turns to the group moving to the beat of the music. More people trickle down from the road, falling into the cluster of bodies. I’m hypnotized by the number of beautiful women with sun-kissed skin in skimpy outfits, some just in their bathing suits, leaving nothing to the imagination.
I can have my pick. I know I can.
My eyes roam over the bodies, admiring the selection of women, scoping out which lucky girl I’ll be taking back to my hotel room, when they land on a flash of pink. No, not just a flash–a whole damn explosion. From her makeup to her tight dress to her shoes, everything about her screams high maintenance princess.
She’s gyrating next to a statuesque woman, who’s equally as gorgeous as she glitters in the setting sunlight, but my eyes keep racing back to the one in pink. She’s tall for a woman, even in flip flops–probably a few inches shorter than I am–with an ample chest, wide hips, and a tiny waist that her dress does a fantastic job of hugging. To top it all off, she’s got bleach blonde hair, wide eyes, and perfect lips, ones I can already imagine kissing.
She’s goddamn stunning, and when she smiles, I can feel the contagious joy radiating from her, even from where we stand. I try to look elsewhere, but my gaze keeps creeping back in her direction.
I’m stricken, which isn’t something that happens often, and it’s strange. She doesn’t seem like my type at all.
In fact, quite the opposite.
I’m always on the lookout for a bohemian woman who doesn’t wear makeup, who probably spends way too much time outside in a garden. Someone quiet and reserved, but also a freak in the sheets. That’s just always been my type.
This princess in pink seems to be the opposite of reserved, judging by her clothes alone, but…
She looks in our direction for a moment, and I can feel my heart jump into my throat. It’s unexpected, the way it skips a beat before settling a second later back where it should be.
What the hell?
Before I can determine if it’s me she’s looking at, though, she spins around, revealing her perfectly curved backside, leaving me a little hollow.
A rumbly feeling starts in my chest, my alpha riling up beneath my skin. Clearly, I’ve chosen who I’m taking back to the hotel.
Now, I just have to introduce myself before someone else gets to her first.
BAILEY
“Bailey, look.”
Kristie stops short and gestures subtly to a group of three guys huddled together several feet away. They're gorgeous, all lean muscle and tan skin, dressed in button-up polos, shorts, and sandals. All three of them look like they just walked out of a magazine.
They can’t be alphas–otherwise, they’d have a swarm of horny women crawling all over them–but even as betas, I’m surprised there isn’t a queue for their attention.
"Oh my God," I say, freezing in my tracks. They have to be part of the contest this weekend. Something about them just radiates ‘national surfing champion’ vibes.
“Mm-hmm,” Kristie hums, her eyes glued to the men.
I join in staring, trying not to make it too obvious. "Which one are you claiming?"
"Blue shirt," she says without hesitation, and my eyes dart to the one she’s talking about–light skin, light eyes, cropped black hair. Sexy and definitely her type. "What about you?"
The two others are just as hot, but the one with brown hair reminds me of my sister's ex. A little too close to home, even for a meaningless hookup.
The third has wavy golden hair and the body of a god. He's perfect, from his blindingly white smile to the dimples in his cheeks. The peach shirt he's wearing compliments all his golden hues, and staring at him makes my stomach do a funny dance.
