Page 66 of The Omega Verse

While tracking down the other great enigma in my life right now.

Jett is exactly where I expect him to be, which is just as well, since I spent the last ten minutes squeezing into a wetsuit I found hanging in the garage.

I carry the board a little awkwardly until I reach the beach, and then the familiarity of it all comes back to me. It’s been a long while since I had the time for a surf, but muscle memory seems to kick in as I drape myself over the board and start paddling towards Jett.

I might have the moody rockstar in my sights, but memories of my brother swirl around me as I cut through the rolling waves. It’s a little more sheltered on this side of the point, but the swell is still big enough to remind me of how reckless Steven used to be, chasing waves that even the older, more experienced surfers left well alone. Still, it’s comforting to have the familiar scent of salt, wax, and fibreglass right under my nose.

Or it is until I get within shouting distance to Jett and he turns his board to face me. And then all I can see is his slicked back hair, piercing blue eyes, and the play of sunlight and water over his tanned face.

But just as I feel like his gaze is warming on me, he turns back to face the next wave. “You look good on that,” he murmurs over his shoulder. “But do you know what you’re doing?”

“Nah. I thought I’d just paddle all the way out here and see if you’d teach me to swim.”

“Mm.”

It’s all he says as he continues to watch the horizon, and my temper snaps. I paddle around until my back is to the approaching swell and glare at him. “Can you look at me, Jett? I know I can’t compete with your next wave, but it’d be great to have a sliver of your attention for a change.”

Do I sound like a needy bitch? Probably. But if I don’t get some honesty from Jett soon, I’m going to lose my mind.

But when he turns my way, he’s staring at me so hard I can’t help dropping my eyes. Maybe one hundred percent of Jett Colter’s attention is something I need to mentally prepare myself for. And then there’s the gravel in his tone as he says, “You think I don’t see you, Cass?”

I shrug, pressing my palms flat on the board. “I think you see my brother every time you look at me.”

He huffs out a breath, his eyes shadowed when I finally meet them again. “Maybe. But then how do you explain the green room?”

I lean back, my lip curling with a mixture of amusement and frustration. “You mean when you thought I was a groupie?”

“I haven’t touched a groupie in five years.”

“Really?”

“Really. And just so you know, I haven’t thought about another woman since I met you.”

My brain is reeling so hard, I have to check over my shoulder to make sure I haven’t been wiped out by a wave. But Jett paddles over until our boards touch. “Maybe some of that’s because of Steven. I miss the fuck out of him every day. But if you think you’re just a sliver in my head, you haven’t worked me out at all.”

Note to self: Chats with Jett Colter don’t really help to clear my head.

After a long, hot shower where I stew over every word that passed between us, I drift to my walk-in closet and stare at the racks of fancy new clothes. After the destruction of my apartment, Silva and River logged me into their favourite online shopping accounts and told me to buy whatever I wanted. I picked a couple of things until I caught sight of the prices, and then the guys took over while I had a minor heart attack. Logically, I knew it wasn’t a lot of money for them, but there’s no way I can wrap my head around spending the same amount on a designer t-shirt as a new printer for the bakery office. But they were so excited to do it, I bit my tongue and let them go wild. Although, I insisted on choosing my own underwear – much to Silva’s disappointment – and I have to say, the supermarket three-packs I usually buy are now a thing of the past.

But I’m stumped as I stand in front of my pretty new things. What do you wear on a date with a country singer who you’ve crushed on since you were a teenager, but who also helped you through your completely unexpected omega heat? I want to impress Kobi, but I don’t want to make it weird. Although, when I get a flashback to writhing on his knot and begging for more, I’m thinking that ship may have already sailed.

Since all he told me is to dress comfortably, I settle on a white minidress with a loose skirt and a crocheted lace hem. It definitely has rock festival vibes, so I pair it with a cropped denim jacket and silver thongs.

“Holy hotness, sugar. You sure I can’t tag along on your date?”

I smile at Silva as he circles me, whistling all the while. “We can do a group date after this one.”

But the promise dies on my lips as Kobi comes out of the spare bedroom. He’s wearing dark wash jeans and a pale blue Western shirt with gold embroidery across the shoulders. His shoulder-length brown hair is pulled back in a loose half ponytail, highlighting his whiskey eyes and the strong bones of his face. My stomach is instantly a mess of nerves. I might be getting used to all the masculine beauty that surrounds me, but Kobi Grace has been an unattainable dream since I was a teenager. And now he’s taking me on a date.

“You look gorgeous,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss my flushed cheek.

“Thanks. You look great, too.” I head over to the kitchen counter to grab my purse and keys, then pause to stare at my footwear. “Are the thongs okay?”

He smiles down at my toes, which Silva painted a shade of punk purple called Violent Velvet while I was styling my hair into beach waves. “They’re perfect. But I’m buying you some cowboy boots. You can’t look this dang good and not have some cowhide on your feet.”

I’m pretty sure he’s joking, but I have to admit, my toes curl at the idea.

The other guys wave us off – after an indecent goodbye kiss from Silva – and when we get out to the street, Kobi leads me over to an unfamiliar truck. “Is this your ute?”

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