Chapter 7
LUCA
Idon’t know what I did to deserve this morning, but I’m not about to question it.
Adelaide is ahead of us, board tucked under her arm, hair still damp and tangled from the surf, little pink bikini doing absolutely nothing to help the situation. Long, toned legs, wet skin shining in the sun, and those bottoms barely covering her curvy ass at all. Every step is a problem.
Sand sticks to the backs of her calves. Sun catches in the gold and copper strands of her hair. Every now and then, she glances over her shoulder like she knows full damn well that three men are behind her and at least two of us are having impure thoughts.
Maybe all three.
I look at North, who’s staring at her ass. He sees me watching him and doesn’t even flinch.
“Don’t start,” Ace says instead.
Neither of us says a word.
Ace cuts us a look anyway. “I can hear both of you being idiots.”
“That’s impressive,” I tell him. “Considering nobody said anything.”
North shifts his board under his arm. “You’re tense. It’s making the air weird.”
Ace keeps walking, getting closer to Adelaide, jaw a little tight. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.”
He gives me a flat look. “Luca.”
“What?” I grin. “You’re the one who found Plane Girl on a beach in Oahu after she ghosted you. That’s not nothing.”
Up ahead, Adelaide glances back. “You know I can hear you, right?”
“Good,” I say.
She snorts, then stares forward again.
That right there nearly gets me smiling like an idiot.
She’s got a mouth on her. Quick too. I adore that. Most people either get shy around the three of us or start performing. Adelaide doesn’t seem interested in either option. She just keeps firing back.
Ace drags a hand over the back of his neck. I’ve known him long enough to know that move means he’s hiding something.
North knows it too. “You gonna keep pretending this is normal?”
Ace sighs. “What part?”
“The part where the woman you’ve been half crazy over for three weeks drops out of nowhere in the middle of our surf.”
Adelaide slows just enough to turn her head. “Half crazy?”
Ace’s expression doesn’t change, but I notice the shift in him anyway. North, because he enjoys throwing lit matches into things, says, “That’s me being generous, considering you spent weeks searching for her.”
“Appreciate that,” Ace mutters with a groan.
I bark a laugh.
Adelaide stares between us, then at Ace. “How much did you tell them about me?”
Ace doesn’t answer right away, which is answer enough. Something in her expression flickers because she has to know he told us everything.
We keep moving up the sand, boards under our arms, surf hissing in and out behind us. The beach is quiet today. A couple of tourists farther down, with one old guy setting up a chair like he has nowhere better to be. The air smells like salt, sunscreen, and wet board wax.
Adelaide catches my attention. “So are you always this annoying, or is this a special welcome package?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting for free.”
She laughs under her breath, and Christ, that sound lights up my insides.
North studies her from the other side of Ace. “You really threw that wave on purpose?”
She keeps walking. “You’ll never prove it.”
“I watched it happen.”
“Might want to get your vision checked.”
Ace huffs a quiet laugh.
I glance over at him. “See? He’s alive.”
“Barely,” North says.
Ace shakes his head. “You two are painful.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But you love us.”
He gives me a look that says he’ll deny it to his dying day, which has me chuckling.
Adelaide is smiling to herself now, and I catch it right as she tries to hide it. Just the corner of her mouth, yet it changes her whole face into something even more beautiful.
I step a little closer, lowering my voice just enough to make it feel like its own conversation. “So what’s the real story?”
“With what?”
“You.” I nod toward the beach access up ahead. “You show up out of nowhere, mouth off to strangers, bet lunch, and then throw a heat. Feels like there’s a backstory.”
She gives me a sideways look. “You like interrogating people?”
North laughs.
Ace says, “He’s serious, by the way. He’ll keep doing that until you either answer or hit him with something.”
“Good to know.” She glances at me again. “I’m not answering.”
“That’s fine. I’m patient.”
“That’s not the vibe you give off.”
“Ouch,” North says.
I grin. “You’ll come around.”
That’s the thing about the three of us. North is the easiest one to underestimate because he comes off as relaxed, but nothing gets past him. Ace is calm until he isn’t. Me, I’ve never seen much point in pretending I’m not interested when I am.
And right now, I’m interested. Not just because she’s gorgeous, though I’m not stupid enough to ignore that part.
It’s the way she keeps pace with us without trying to prove anything.
She doesn’t shrink when I push or when North pins her with that steady look of his.
Most people adjust themselves around strong men. Adelaide doesn’t.
We hit firmer sand, and she shifts the board higher on her hip. My eyes drop before I can stop them. Nice legs. Delicious ass. Fucking gorgeous everywhere, honestly.
North chuckles my way. “Subtle,” he says.
“Shut up.”
Adelaide glances between us. “Should I be concerned?”
“Yes,” Ace says.
“No,” I say at the same time.
North adds, “Probably.”
She laughs again, shaking her head, and I swear the whole damn morning brightens by a notch.
Ace watches her when she isn’t looking. That part is obvious now. He’s not just curious; he’s far enough gone that finding her here knocked him sideways.
And honestly? Looking at her now, I get it.
We hit the road, the parking lot just beyond the palms, the ground already warm under our bare feet.
Adelaide stops and turns to face us, shifting her board under her arm.
Ace and North step back.
I don’t. The tail of her board swings past me close enough to make me feel the air off it. “Jesus.”
She doesn’t even blink. “You’re welcome.”
“I could’ve lost a nose.”
“You were standing too close.” She’s not sorry, not even a little. Morning sun is behind her, pink bikini barely holding those full breasts, hair still wet, mouth sharp, and I’m trying very hard to remember how to behave like a functional adult.
North adjusts his board under his arm, glancing her way. “We could all just go together to lunch. Save you hunting for parking.”
She shifts her weight onto one leg, settling the board more firmly against her hip. “You want an Omega to get in a car with three Alphas she met half an hour ago.”
North opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “Fair,” he admits.
I laugh.
Ace doesn’t. He’s watching her too closely now, something in him still tight.
“But you know Ace,” North says. “Sort of.”
“Met him on a plane,” she says. “That’s not the same as a character reference.”
I bite back a grin.
Ace and Adelaide stare at each other, and there’s enough in that look to make me want a drink and a front-row seat. Whatever happened on that plane, besides them joining the mile-high club, left marks.
“Head off,” she says. “I’ll meet you there. Just let me know the place.”
“Duke’s in Waikiki,” North answers.
She nods. “I know the place.”
Ace shifts his board higher under his arm. “You sure?” And we’re all standing around again, watching this uncomfortable awkwardness between them.
She smiles at him, easy as anything. Too easy.
“Plenty of time to catch up over lunch.”
Yeah. No. That smile is doing a job.
“Adelaide, we should—”
“Go, Ace.”
She turns away before he can say anything else and heads toward a van parked near the far end of the lot. Old VW camper, yellow with a white roof, board rack on top. Cute, and suits her.
Ace stands there for another second, lips pressed tight. North shifts his board under one arm, reaches over to me, and takes mine with the other. “I’ll take it with the car,” he says.
I hand it over, and then he and Ace start toward his truck while I head the other way to my bike.
Then I hear her sigh, and I glance back.
Adelaide is crouched by the front tire of the van, her board on the grass beside her.
I change direction fast. By the time I get there, she’s got one hand braced on the wheel and her face has gone still in a way I don’t like.
The tire isn’t just flat—there’s a clean slice through the sidewall. I crouch beside her, and look closer.
“Someone did this,” she says. “Fuckers.”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “That’s cut clean.”
Her mouth tightens. “I have a spare in the back.”
She stands too quickly, grabs her board, and heads around to the rear doors. I follow when she throws the van open.
Then we both stop.
“What the fuck!” she states.
The inside is trashed. Clothes dragged out and dumped. Food containers tipped over. Coffee grounds scattered across the floor, the mattress shoved half off its platform. Drawers hanging open. The whole place looks like somebody got angry and wanted her to know it.
And right in the middle of it all is a tiny, cracked terracotta pot on its side, soil spilled everywhere, the small green plant’s roots exposed.
She goes straight for that and crouches in the mess, scooping dirt back around the roots with both hands, trying to settle the plant upright even with the split running up the side of the pot.
Something in my chest pulls tight.
“Ah, hell.” I step up into the van, careful where I put my feet. “Here. Let me help.”
“I’ve got it.” Her voice is level, telling me she’s holding back her emotions.
I start picking clothes up off the floor anyway, folding them roughly and stacking them, because standing there watching her try to hold a cracked pot together with dirt all over her hands is not something I’m built for.
She carefully sets it upright against the wall, like if she’s gentle enough, maybe it won’t be broken after all. Then she blinks hard once, twice, and stares at the rest of the van like she’s trying to decide what to save first. “Why the hell would someone do this?”