Page 11 of Ashley & the A-Listers

If he wasn’t mistaken, the beta looked… disappointed. “Well. A workout can bechallenging,” he said, arching a brow at Dylan. “And usually, a little warm-up can go a long way.”

The beta was not talking about a routine.

Was he talking about Ashley, or was Dylan just so hung up on seeing her again that he was looking for hints where there were none?

“Warming up is… important,” Dylan guessed.

Nic nodded like a maniac. Dylan decided he liked the beta. “Exactly. It takes time for a muscle to adjust to a routine. Especially if that routine has been interrupted by a familiar face.”

“Right…” Now Dylan was losing the plot a bit, and obviously Nic could tell.

He huffed, stepping away, and Dylan lowered his leg to the ground.

“Just be patient,” Nic finally said, and motioned for Dylan to lift the other.

He scowled, but Nic just eyed him, and Dylan cooperated with a sigh.

Patience. Dylan was sparse on that when it came to Cameron, but for Ashley? He could manage.

He would try to catch her again the next training day. Dylan supposed he could just ask Nic when she’d be working again, but that felt… wrong, somehow. He wasn’t trying to be a creep—he was just trying to make this whole thing as painless as possible, since they were going to be using this gym for Cameron’s training for the next several weeks.

The last thing Dylan wanted was for Cameron to accuse him of killing the vibe.

Brat.

As if summoned, the omega came through the doors with abeep,and Dylan breathed a sigh of relief as Nic stepped away.

Cameron looked the opposite of relieved, though, barely greeting Nic before coming to stand over Dylan. “What are you lounging around for? We have a problem,” he said. Dylan noted the stress lines around his eyes and the sour note to his usually dull scent.

Instinctively, Dylan clocked the exits and windows, and found no physical threat, but the omega was clearly shaken up about something, clutching his coffee with white knuckles.

“What is it?” Dylan asked, ignoring the dig and getting to his feet.

“My trainer’s in the fucking hospital,” he hissed, lips flattening to a thin, unhappy line.

“What?”

“Yeah, the one we met here yesterday? He—he broke his foot!” Cameron raked a hand through his hair, and not for the first time this morning. It was already messier than Dylan hadeverseen from this usually pristine omega.

“What does this mean for you?” Dylan asked calmly, trying to focus Cam’s nervous energy into a logical solution.

“There’s no way he’s going to be able to help me learn the basics of kickboxing,” Cameron said, throwing an arm out as if it was obvious. “So it means I’m fucked out of one of three fighting techniques they want from me for this film. Fuck!” Stress oozed from Cameron, bittering the sweet notes of his scent, and Dylan’s first urge was to soothe.

Instead, he decided to tackle the problem head-on. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know!” Cameron snapped. His arms were crossed, closed off, anxious. “I really liked that guy. He was abeta,so I felt safe with him. Production said they’d get back to me about a replacement, but it took us so long to find this guy, and?—“

“They’ll probably send you an alpha,” Dylan surmised.

Cameron’s brow furrowed at just the thought, and unbidden, Dylan went into problem-solver mode. Maybethishe could fix.

“We could find someone before they do? Do you know anyone that doesn’t make you want to pull your hair out?”

They tossed a few ideas around, but came to no conclusion several minutes later. Cameron was growing frustrated and his scent was practically a bruise, even dulled.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Nic called out, and Dylan realized the beta hadn’t even gone very far, wiping down an already clean machine as he listened in. Dylan refrained from rolling his eyes. “Couldn’t help but overhear,” he said, and Dylan’s lips twitched.

Dylan motioned him over, and Cameron huffed.

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