6. Lakelyn
CHAPTER 6
Lakelyn
When I arrive at the club, the courts are still quiet, the only sound is the rhythmic bounce of tennis balls from a few early risers already practicing their serves. I spot Dean by the far court, his back to me as he arranges a few cones for drills. He’s always so composed, so in control, but today there’s something different about him—his movements are sharper, more abrupt, and the usual warmth in his posture seems to be replaced by a tense rigidity.
“Morning, Dean,” I call out as I approach, hoping to break through whatever cloud seems to be hanging over him. He turns to me, offering a brief nod, but the smile I’m used to seeing is nowhere to be found. Even after my failed attempt to seduce him, he would smile at me.
“Morning, Lakelyn. Ready for your lesson?” His voice is steady, but there’s a hint of something darker beneath the surface.
“Of course,” I reply, trying to keep things light. “Though I’m starting to think you enjoy watching me miss the ball more than teaching me how to hit it.”
He doesn’t respond to the joke, just hands me a tennis racket. His usual banter, the easygoing teasing that makes these lessons fun, is conspicuously absent. Concern flickers through me as I step onto the court, gripping the racket a little tighter.
He doesn’t say another word before he strides over to the ball launcher and turns it on. I land the first one and expect his normal easy going comments to start. Like, ‘Great job!’ or ‘Nice volley.’ or maybe even, ‘A little tight on that hit, loosen up.’ but none of that comes from his mouth.
I try to focus on the balls being lobbed my way, but it’s hard with the scowl on his face as he watches me. By the time I’m dripping with sweat from hitting almost every ball, I’m so on edge from the energy in the air that I might break in half. Add in the fact that he keeps staring off into the distance, clearly somewhere else mentally, and my concern about him heightens.
I pause, letting the next ball hit the ground and bounce two more times before rolling into the fence. He doesn’t say a word. I miss again, on purpose, and no correction comes.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, as I drop my racket to my side. “You feel off.”
He focuses on me, his expression softening slightly, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his eyes. “Just a lot on my mind, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”
“But I do worry,” I insist gently, trying to catch his eye. “I’m your friend. If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me. Maybe I can help?”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair as he looks away. “It’s nothing, really. Just some old stuff resurfacing. I’ll be fine.”
Before I can press further, the sound of footsteps approaching from behind makes us both turn. My heart skips a beat when I see Chad sauntering toward us, that familiar, confident grin plastered on his face. His presence is magnetic, pulling all the air out of the space between us as he draws nearer. I feel an involuntary flush rise to my cheeks, my heart rate picking up without my permission.
I’m not sure what it is about this omega but my whole body comes alive when he’s around. It never fails that my perfume makes an appearance, not that it’s very strong, but I can smell it. Dean and Chad would probably be able to smell it if one of them sniffed my neck. And that thought alone has goosebumps traveling down my spine.
Chad stops on the other side of the fence, his fingers threading through the chainlink. “Lakelyn, I was hoping I’d see you this morning.” His voice is smooth and comforting, but his dark eyes glint with mischief as he shifts his gaze to Dean beside me. He doesn’t greet Dean, in fact, he dismisses him similarly to how he dismissed Mason last night. He has a way of making me feel like I’m the only person that he can see, and it is a little addictive.
I can feel Dean’s posture stiffen beside me, the air around us growing thicker with tension. “Chad,” Dean says, his eyes narrowing as he regards him. “Didn’t expect to see you out here.”
“Couldn’t resist,” Chad replies, flashing a grin that only makes Dean’s expression harden. “Lakelyn’s quickly becoming my favorite beta.” My cheeks heat at his words, and I duck my head.
Dean steps closer, almost protectively, and I catch a whiff of his musk. It has a bite to it, the clean scent of rain and the subtle sweetness of wildflowers smells more like an oncoming storm than the cleansing aftermath of one. “She doesn’t need your distraction. We were in the middle of a lesson.”
Chad’s smile widens, and he unlinks his fingers from the chainlink and moves to the door, taking a casual step toward Dean and onto the court. “Relax, Dean. Just here to watch. Maybe you should lighten up a little, yeah?” He drags his eyes from Dean’s chest up to his eyes and holds his stare.
Dean’s jaw tightens as he closes the distance between them, stepping into Chad really, his tone brokering no argument. “This lesson is for my students, Chad. And right now, that means it’s closed to any outside observers.”
Chad’s smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers, his gaze shifting back to me with a glint of mischief he falls back a step. “Your students? Got it.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and tilts his head in my direction. “I’ll see you later.”
The promise in his voice and the intense look in his eyes before shifting his attention back to Dean, lingering just a bit on him, have butterflies explode in my stomach.
I give a quick wave and a small smile.
Dean’s voice, though steady, carries a hint of the frustration he’s trying to suppress. “Let’s get back to it. Focus on your serve.”
Hours later, Landon lounges on a chair on the other side of the counter watching me as I prepare us dinner. He invited Mason, but he said he had things to do. I try to pretend that it isn’t because of our conversation last night. But I know it is.
“You know you could always move back home," Landon says, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tapping idly on the table. "I don’t understand your obsession with paying for everything on your own. Dad will open that shop you want. Just ask him.”
I roll my eyes as Landon starts on a familiar topic, wiping my hands on a dishtowel before tossing it onto the counter. “I want to do it myself. It feels good to pay for all of the stuff I want.”
“You sound like Mason,” he grumbles, taking a swig from his beer bottle, the glass clinking softly as he sets it back down.
Opening the stove, I hide another eye roll as I slide the tray in, the heat brushing against my face. “That’s because he doesn’t have a choice.”
“I’d give him cash.” Landon shrugs, his tone nonchalant, but there's a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
“For being my twin, you really are clueless.” I shake my head, the irritation bubbling up as I close the oven door with a bit more force than necessary.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his brow furrowing as he leans forward, clearly not liking where this is headed.
I sigh and turn to face him. “Landon, just because you’re best friends with Mason doesn’t mean he wants handouts. He’s too proud for that, you know that. He’d never take your money, no matter how well-intentioned.”
Landon frowns, leaning back in his chair with a furrowed brow. “But?—”
A sharp knock on my door cuts off his words, and we both look toward it. He pushes to his feet and crosses the room, swinging it open to reveal Mason.
His hair’s held back in a tidy bun at the base of his neck, the sides of his head with a fresh cut. And dressed in his signature ‘I don’t give a fuck what people say’ ripped jeans and a black ribbed tank top, showing off the necklaces around his neck.
Add in the many tattoos running down his arms and beneath his shirt and he’s the kind of boy you don’t take home to meet the parents. Not that any of that stopped Landon from befriending him in the seventh grade. Or my parents from taking him in and under their wing when his father skipped town and his mom struggled to put food on the table for him and his sister. Granted, he didn’t have the tattoos back then.
“You said you weren’t coming, Loser,” Landon says, smacking him on the shoulder.
Mason shrugs and holds up a four pack. “And miss Lake’s cooking? Never.” His moss green eyes meet mine, and he gives me a small smile. “I brought your favorite. Pomegranate Raspberry.”
Landon curls his lip at the wine coolers as Mase sets them on the counter. “BJ’s?”
“Apology BJ’s…you shouldn’t have,” I say with a laugh as I snag one from the pack.
“Apology?” Landon asks sharply, looking between us. He stands straighter. “What does he need to apologize for, Lake?”
Mason rolls his lips between his teeth and raises his eyebrows, while my pale skin flushes. Gah, I need to find my filter and put it back in place. “Uh, nothing. Joking.” I wave off his question with a floppy wrist and turn back to the sink, pretending to rinse the bowl I used for prepping.
Once I’m done, I twist the cap off of the fruity wine cooler and down half of it. When I set it back on the counter, my head spins slightly, but it’s just what I need to face the two of them after what happened yesterday. Turning, I lean against the counter and tune back into their conversation.
“—Seriously, you should have seen this omega. She was so hot, that I would have shared her just to touch her,” Landon says, balancing the counter chair on two legs, before guiltily popping all four of them back on the ground with a look from me.
“New topic please.” I lift the wine cooler and sip on it, avoiding looking directly at Mason. I do not want to see the interest shining in his eyes for some omega, especially after asking him if he ever thought about me in that way and being let down gently .
“There’s a for rent sign right next to the coffee shop on Main street,” Mason says, earning my full attention. He’s watching me when I meet his eyes, an excitement shining in his.
I sink my teeth into my lower lip as I absorb the words fully. My own excitement’s threading through me. “That would be the perfect spot.”
“Art and Tats.” He nods, already on my same line of thought.
We could share the rent and both get what we want. Between our normal jobs and the starting of a business, it would make sense to have both of us able to be there. I’d have to give up tennis lessons—which creates an odd pang of regret. Tennis lessons are just a way to be close to Dean. But this opportunity is my future. Our future.
“Yes!”
Without thinking, I circle the kitchen island and throw my arms around Mason. I’ve hugged him a million times. But this feels charged. A current runs from him to me, burning me alive as his pheromones hit me. A hint of marshmallows over a campfire, of chocolate melting on a graham cracker. And he tugs me even closer, swinging me around with our joined happiness.
When my feet touch the ground, my cheeks are warm, and I am pretty sure my nipples are hard against his chest. His hands release me in slow motion, dragging over my sides as if he doesn’t want to stop touching me. And I swear his thumbs brush the band of my bra, the swell of the side of my breasts. I may be inexperienced in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced foreplay.
Landon clears his throat, and I tear myself from Mason’s arms and turn quickly back to the stove, muttering something about checking on the food. All while I’m light headed from his simple touch and still want to press my lips to his.
“It sounds like it will take a lot of money,” Landon says, seeming oblivious to the fact his sister was about to climb his best friend right in front of him. “I could help with funds. Then you two could focus on your shop.”
“We’re good,” Mason answers, and when I turn back around, his eyes are lingering on me in a way I don’t think they ever have before.
Rejecting what my own eyes are telling me, I grab a second wine cooler and twist the lid off. Before dinner’s complete, I have finished off bottle two, and I’ve got a nice buzz going. Turning on my music with a quick voice command, my hips sway to the beat as I pull down the plates and carry them over to the table. Landon and Mason grab the side dishes, and before I can pull out my seat, Mason is tugging it out for me.
As I settle into it, Landon scoffs, his eyes going between us. “What’s going on between you two? Apology wine coolers, hugging a bit too long, and now this.” He gestures at Mason as he releases the back of my chair. “Mase, what the fuck did you do to my sister that has you acting like a whipped alpha?”
I hide behind my third Pomegranate Raspberry wine cooler and don’t come up for air until Mason’s sliding into his seat to my left. Across from Landon.
“I didn’t do anything to your sister. Nothing you wouldn’t have done, anyway. Some rich omega was openly flirting with her at the dinner. I stopped it.”
I roll my eyes and set my wine down. The liquid makes my tongue freer than it would be normally. “His name is Chad, and he’s cute. I would fuck him.”
My brother’s silverware clatters to his plate, and I know he’s staring daggers into the side of my head without even looking his way.
“What? I’m just being honest. I could use a good fuck just as much as you guys can.”
A growl rumbles out of Mason at my words, and Landon makes a choking sound.
“I do not want to talk about my sister fucking anyone, Lake.”
I purse my lips and look between them. A shiver runs down my spine at the possessive glint to Mason’s eyes, but I yank my gaze away from him before he can capture it. Only to look at my brother, who looks as if he’s lost his appetite. Serves him right, I don’t want to hear about him and his sexcapades either, especially if they involve Mason.
Bringing the wine cooler back to my lips, I take a slow swig. “Payback's a bitch, Lan.”