Page 15 of Worthy or Knot (Serendipity Omegaverse #3)

Fifteen

MEGAN

“ I cannot believe you lied to him about having to work this morning.”

Marcus narrows his eyes as he steps out of the rideshare, a bag slung casually over his shoulder. He’s dressed down compared to his typical—medium wash jeans and a brown Henley he’s left unbuttoned.

“I promised I’d back off and give you both a chance to get to know him,” he explains a bit stiffly. His movements are short and agitated, belying his underlying tension, as he rolls the sleeves up to above the elbows, leaving his forearms on full display.

“That’s just rude,” I say.

He frowns, but I just raise an eyebrow.

“It is,” I double down with a smirk. “You say you’re wanting to give us room to hang out with him, and yet you go and roll up your sleeves like you’re some sex god. Jesus, Marcus. If it’s not Cole, Charlotte will be all over you with that outfit.”

His cheeks flush a dark red as he glances away, out toward the long dock whose address Cole had sent after Charlotte had let us know the afternoon plan.

We’ve never been more than friends, never even been tempted to cross that line and experiment.

Maybe because we had already both designated when we met in college?

Except I know plenty of packs where the Alphas are together, too, just like Charlotte and Marcus are in ours.

Whatever the reason, Marcus has been one of my closest friends over the last decade.

Even the years he spent working for the LA Philharmonic across the country, we’d still call every few months and check in with each other.

And when I mentioned wanting to try my luck with the Council to find a potential Omega because I was exhausted with trying to date the traditional way?

He and Charlotte had jumped right in despite him having this bond with Cole already.

“Marcus?”

He focuses on me, his eyebrows furrowing with instant worry at the sudden weight to my voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“Thanks for being the best friend a girl could have,” I say.

He relaxes, and a grin brightens his face and warms his eyes. “Of course, Megs. Now let’s figure out where this tour is happening.”

We walk shoulder to shoulder as the rideshare leaves, heading farther onto the dock.

There’s no signs for a tour boat anywhere though, just the small informational signs listing hours of the marina posted on the gate blocking access to the boats themselves.

Boats that are much larger and more expensive than I’d expected for something that’s definitely a tourist niche.

These are large and sleek, their paint pristine.

The smallest of them still feels leagues fancier than any of the ferries I’ve ridden in other parts of the country.

I can’t help but whistle at the blatant wealth on display. Whoever owns these yachts are freaking loaded .

“There is no way this is a marina for the tour boats,” Marcus mutters.

“Maybe he sent us the wrong one?” I ask, though I don’t even really believe it. Cole’s been so careful with everything he’s done since the video call Wednesday. I just don’t see him making the kind of error that is sending us to the wrong marina, not when he lives here.

Marcus makes a noise low in his throat like he often does.

This one conveys his unease. He shoves his hands in his pockets before glancing over his shoulder back toward the road.

The parking lot is nearly empty, just a few cars nestled together in the back corner.

They’re in good shape, but not the brands I’d expect to match the obvious wealth of the boats.

A black sedan pulls into the lot as I’m looking, similar to the larger SUV that had picked us up from the airport last night.

Cole climbs out before the driver can open his door.

His hand is laced with Charlotte’s as he helps her out.

Her gaze finds us immediately, and she waves across the space even as she tucks into Cole’s side, keeping most of her body touching his.

“Well, I suppose we’ll find out where to go now,” I say, and Marcus hums one of his “yes” sounds.

Cole smiles at the driver, shaking his hand as he says something, and then the car is leaving the lot and the two of them are closing the distance to us.

Just as Charlotte hugs Marcus, not letting go of Cole’s hand, a man unlocks the gate behind us.

He’s dressed in khaki shorts and a light blue polo that’s unbuttoned.

It feels way too cold for that kind of outfit, but maybe people who live here are more acclimated to the overcast, dreary weather.

“Mr. Fallon?” he asks.

“Nice to meet you,” Cole says, walking ahead of us, holding out his open hand to the man. “Frank, right?”

The man nods. “Pleasure to meet you. Bill said you’re planning for about eight hours? Far enough out to hopefully see some of the humpbacks and then a dinner, yes?”

Marcus and I share a glance as we keep a step behind the others.

He’d hired a private boat? No, not a boat. A yacht .

“You hired a private tour?” Charlotte asks. “You didn’t have to do that!”

Cole kisses the back of her hand as he shrugs. “There won’t be cameras on this one, at least.”

Her cheeks flush, and sage wafts toward us, blending with the brine of the ocean. Clearly their morning together went well.

Without comment, the man walks down the dock, a calm quiet about him, and then holds his hand out to a large vessel at the end of the row. This one isn’t quite as tall or long as the others, though that’s not saying much.

“How big is it?” The question drops from me without realizing it.

Frank looks over at me, a smile curving his lips, clearly amused by my quiet shock.

“Sixty feet, ma’am. It’s outfitted to house up to eight people comfortably on extended trips, though we’re more than able to entertain close to triple that without much strain.

Bill’s hosted a few parties upwards of fifty people in the past.”

I nod as if all that makes sense and doesn’t completely reorient Cole’s entire family in my mind. There’s wealthy, yes, but this is an entirely different class.

“I didn’t realize your family owned a boat,” Charlotte says.

Cole shakes his head. “My dads don’t. They don’t really enjoy the water, but a few of their friends do. Bill, the man who owns this one, is Papa’s best friend.”

“Kayla said there’s some light snacks on the back deck for you,” Frank says as he unlatches a door and motions us on board.

Marcus grabs my elbow as we carefully span the foot or so of water between the edge of the yacht and the dock.

“And we’re happy to readjust anything so you’re comfortable.

It’ll take us about twenty minutes to be under way and then about an hour or so to get to my and Mark’s favorite spot for the whales. ”

Cole smiles. “Sounds great. Thank you again, Frank.”

He waves off the thanks.

As he’s turning away, I ask, “How likely is it we’ll be able to see them? The whales, I mean.”

Frank tilts his head as his gaze grows thoughtful.

“Mornings are often better, but we’re going farther out than the larger tourist boats do, so we’ll probably get to see one or two at least. And we’re not in any hurry to get you back to the dock, so we can be patient and adjust if needed.

We should be able to find you a pod or two. ”

“Thank you,” I say, echoing Cole’s words.

He’s quick to deflect them, disappearing deeper into the boat through a door I hadn’t noticed, leaving us alone on the main deck.

Cole guides us toward the far side of the boat.

Sure enough, there’s a small table laid out with a white tablecloth, plates, and glasses.

Three large platters sit in the center, the food plated like this is a Michelin star restaurant.

There’s tomatoes and mozzarella on thin crackers, a pasta salad of some kind, and melon that’s probably just been cut.

Placed between the serving platters are two large pitchers of what looks to be lemonade and water with strawberries and mint floating in it.

I’m not entirely sure what to do now. I’d expected a large crowd with minimal seating and a strict itinerary. All this open space and time? I’m not sure I like it. Give me a to-do list and a plan, please.

“Brought you those clothes,” Marcus says into the silence, holding out the bag to Charlotte. “Leggings and a sweater. I grabbed one of your claw clips, too, just in case.”

Charlotte lets go of Cole’s hand in favor of wrapping her arms around Marcus’s neck, stretching onto her tiptoes and kissing him, long and slow.

I look away only to find Cole watching me, his gaze full of both curiosity and nerves where he leans against the side railing of the yacht, completely at ease.

Tamping down my nerves, I cross the deck to him.