Page 17 of Omega's Runaway Love
“Sure thing. Now get inside before they close for the night.”
I chuckled and took a step towards the car rental door. “I’ll call when I get to Harris Cove.”
“Ok! Drive safe.”
*
I was definitely doing a series on Harris Cove, just as soon as I was willing to let my family know where I’d run off to.
I’d no sooner than turned on my cell phone when I was bombarded with text messages and voicemails from dad and papa, demanding that I tell them where I was and letting me know just how disappointed they were in me. There were a handful of messages from Nate, also expressing disappointment, but more conciliatory towards my position.
Then there was a message from Jessalynn, making sure that I’d been able to get into the beach house without issue. Hers was the only one I answered before setting my phone to airplane mode and limiting my communication to apps.
Tomorrow I would have to get some essentials, since I’d left home with only the handful of things I’d been able to stash in my laptop bag before sneaking out. But that would let me explore the city too, then I’d come back and enjoy the beach that was right outside the back door before deciding what my next move would be.
Chapter 8 - Cadence
Returning to Harris Cove felt more like coming home than the brief visit to my actual home in Chicago. It didn’t make any sense. Sure, I’d spent plenty of time at the beach house over the years, but not enough for the deep sense of comfort that washed over me as I stepped through the doors.
Maybe it was because my every move wasn’t going to be scrutinized. Granted, I’d been sent to Harris Cove because there wasn’t any sort of real trouble I could get into. But dad and papa weren’t going to be scouring the paper for my name in the morning.
I rolled my luggage into the master bedroom and set it off to one side. Then I walked over to the French doors that led from the bedroom to the expansive back patio and looked out at the ocean.
Did I really need to live full-time in Chicago? Maybe in twenty years or so, when dad stepped aside and named me CEO. But for the time being, much of my work could be done remotely. Improvements in video conferencing made it possible to attend meetings from wherever, and I could review reports as easily from a lounge chair on the patio as I could from behind a desk in a high-rise.
I chuckled. Dad and papa probably thought sending me to Harris Cove was punishment. But was a beachside retreat really all that bad? I could still enjoy the Chicago nightlife during the inevitable trips home.
Plus it would probably annoy the hell out of them if I moved and started a family here. No doubt papa was looking forward to playing with grandbabies, and it wouldn’t be nearly as convenient for him if I was out on the coast. Sure he could hop in the family jet, but he wouldn’t be able to annoy my omega at a moment’s notice.
The more I thought about it, the more making a permanent move to Harris Cove seemed like a good idea. I should enjoy life before tethering myself to company headquarters. The house was already in the family name, and it’s better for them to be occupied anyway.
I grinned and decided that—since I didn’t have anything scheduled until Monday—I would take some time to enjoy my new home. And what better way than to take advantage of the fact that the beach was just out my back door.
I walked into the master closet and rummaged through the drawers I’d commandeered—no way was I staying in the guest room when I was the only one there—until I found my swimming trunks.
I wasn’t sure if I was just going to lounge on the patio, or actually swim. The water would be pretty cold that time of year, but I wanted to be ready should the waves call my name.
A few minutes later I had my trunks on, and sunscreen slathered on my skin. Then I stepped out onto the patio.
A sea breeze brought the smell of salt, and something else, something delicious, right to me. I wondered whose private chef had the skills to make my mouth water from just the slightest whiff of whatever they were making.
I was trying to decide between taking a seat on the patio, or heading down the handful of stairs to sit on the sand. That was when I saw a cute omega fussing with a tripod.
I watched for a moment as he adjusted a camera, moved to pose, then rushed back to check the result.
His shoulders slumped and he adjusted the angle, then repeated the process, including the apparent disappointment.
I frowned. Even from as far away as I was, I could tell that the omega was far too handsome to be upset over a camera angle.
I grinned as I headed down the stairs. It seemed that all he needed was a bit of help, which I was more than willing to give if it made him happy.
I couldn’t explain it, but I had the most intense need to see him smile.
As I was walking over he repeated the process of rushing to the camera, frowning, adjusting it and running back towards the waves.
I stopped behind the camera just as the timer went off and it snapped several photos. But even with my untrained eye, I was pretty sure that it wasn’t what he was looking for.
“It cut off the top of your head,” I yelled.
