Page 62 of Omega Tricked

I frowned. “But… you don’t really know how long you’ll be here.”

His face tensed. “True… Let’s play it by ear.” He avoided my gaze. “Did you want to walk now?”

“Uh, yeah.” He was definitely being a bit cagey, and I wasn’t sure why. He had to know it wasn’t safe to go into town until we were sure the local cops weren’t dirty. “I’m sure Charles will have it figured out soon. He’s not one to let dust settle under his feet.”

We headed toward the front door, and once outside, he sighed. “I was beginning to feel a little like a vampire.” He inhaled the crisp air, looking serene. “The air is so pure here.”

“It takes some getting used to.” I smiled.

“I remember when I was a kid, a friend of mine invited me on a church retreat in the mountains.” He laughed. “My dad didn’t let me go because he said the air was too thin and it wouldn’t be good for me.”

“Why wouldn’t it be good for you?”

He grimaced. “I had a touch of asthma when I was younger.”

“Really?” That was surprising because he seemed so fit—a perfect specimen of an alpha.

“Yeah. It seems to have gone away as I matured, but I always had it stuck in my head the mountain air would be bad for me.” He shook his head. “My dad had all kinds of dumb theories like that.”

“We don’t choose our family.” I studied his profile.

His mouth hardened. “Yes. I wonder what I’d have been like if I’d had a different father.”

“I think you turned out all right.”

“You don’t really know me though.”

He was hinting again. Hinting that he wasn’t a good person. “You think your dad warped you somehow?”

“Probably.” He studied the ground as we walked. “My dad was a hard man to please. We were very different.”

“In what way?”

He frowned and seemed to pick his words carefully. “He wanted me to… uh… take over the family business. But, I have no desire to do that. I want to be independent.”

“I can understand that.” I patted his back, and he gave me a grateful smile. “So, do you enjoy selling medical equipment instead?” I couldn’t imagine he’d be intellectually stimulated doing that; he seemed too vibrant to find sales satisfying, but who was I to judge? Perhaps it was more stimulating than I realized.

“Uh… what I’d really like to do is run an art gallery one day.”

I grinned. “NowthatI can see you doing.”

“You don’t think sales suits me?” He frowned.

“Well—” I twisted my lips to keep from smiling. “—you’re slick enough to carry it off.”

“Slick, huh?”

“Slick as oil.” I hopped over a puddle in the middle of the trail.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I do run on autopilot a lot. It’s dull work. I don’t know, for some reason catheters just don’t give me a hard-on.”

A flush went through me at his flippant comment. “Gee, now I’m curious what does.”

He stopped walking, and he laughed gruffly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

I shrugged. “No, it’s fine. Just because I’m super turned on now, don’t worry about it.”

His expression was impossible to read, but he seemed breathless. “I’m not wrong that you find me attractive, right?” He sounded so uncertain, it was a bit endearing.