Page 67 of Ashley & the A-Listers

He lifted his hands in a gesture of innocence and made his way back to the front desk.

She tried to ignore his words, and the weird stirring in her chest they caused, but as she went home to her house—her house that was definitely not large enough to be a pack house—and awaited Cam’s text, she couldn’t quite get it out of her mind.

Not the way that the three of them—Cam, River, and Dylan—looked like a pack, or the way Nic had suggested she needed a pack.

Not the way her and Dylan’s easy truce had bloomed into something resembling a friendship that felt as comfortable as it always had. Not the way he cheered for her on the mat, beaming with awe every time she taught Cam something new.

Not the way her pulse went up from way more than just the sparring when she and Cam were on the mat.

And not the way her heart softened a bit every time there was a fourth coffee on River’s tray, her order already memorized by the sweet beta.

“This is casual,” she reminded herself, standing in front of the mirror in a dress that she almost never wore. “Casual,” she repeated, and then grimaced at her image before changing.

She laid on the bed and awaited the text. She could decide what to wear when she figured out what restaurant they were going to.

For a casual, friendly, trainer-client celebration dinner.

That’s all.

This isnotcasual,Ashley told herself as she handed her keys off to avalet.

She’dheardabout this place—from her other celebrity clients, mostly. According to people like Lyric, this was the most exclusive place in town.

Boulevardwas displayed in big block letters over the brick building, framed by a display ofrealflowers. Tall planters guarded the doors and string lights lit up the sidewalk, where only shiny dress shoes seemed to tread.

Ashley never thought she’d have a chance to eat at such a place.

Was this Cameron’s version of casual? He was a Hollywood star, so it wouldn’t surprise her if the omega only ate at high-class establishments.

It just felt different from the Cameron who wore sports shorts and ate meal prep from bento boxes.

Her stomach fluttered with nerves as she floundered, phone clutched in her hand displaying anI’m heretext.

As she scanned the crowd, a dark figure came through the carousel doors, and Ashley… froze.

It was Dylan, clad in a suit, of all things. He skimmed the crowd, but it barely took him a glance before his gaze locked on her.

Warmth kissed her from head to toe as he studied her. Then those long legs were striding her way, and Dylan offered her his arm as he got closer.

“Cam sent me to retrieve you,” he said. “And by that, I meant he threatened physical violence. You look… lovely.”

She was glad she went with the dress from the back of the closet, because it was about the only thing she owned that allowed her to blend in.

It was black, of course, like most of her clothes, and fell to just above her knees, with straps that made it impossible to wear a proper bra, but it showed off her arm and back muscles.

Something she usually was proud to show off, but in this moment, with sparkly, dainty omegas and packs around her, she felt out of place.

She slipped her arm into his, and hoped her cheeks weren’t pink. “Wow, really searched your vocabulary for that, didn’t you?”

“Take the compliment,” he muttered at her, and Ashley rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny it did make the butterflies in her stomach a bit more active.

“Thanks,” she returned, and Dylan offered her a smile, one that reminded her of the carefree Dylan she used to know, the one that had slowly been emerging these past few weeks.

“He’s gonna shit when he sees you. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t tease me,” she grumbled, and punched his arm. As soon as her fist made gentle contact, she wanted to take it back. It was too eerily similar to how they were as kids.

And as his dark gaze met hers with a lick of heat, she suddenly remembered how much older they were.

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