Page 68 of Hidden Fates

“Hungry?”

Steel-blue eyes pop open and meet mine; the intensity of his curiosity makes me shiver as he takes in my outfit with a soft snort. Baggy, light-washed jeans sling low on my hips, showing off the white band of my boxers, nothing scandalous when it’s cold out.

His reaction is probably to the mesh crop top I threw on, the hot pink font emblazoned on the front reads ‘good boy’ which is something we all know I am not. I’m a brat through and through.

“I could eat.”

Swinging my door open, I grip the top and throw myself behind the wheel. I move so fast that I have time to lean over and open his door for him, earning another shake of his head and a muttered thanks.

“There’s a place two blocks over I’ve been hitting after my workouts that has amazing food.”

“I’m down for that. You come here more often than Sundays with your mates?”

We buckle in and I start backing out before I answer. “Randomly, yeah. In warmer weather, I’d find a park to go to or take the Jeep out. Sitting around the house leaves me feeling restless.”

“You come to burn off excess energy.” A statement, not a question, but I nod anyway.

“When we’re on tour, I have shows to wipe me out, but with Quentin’s adamance that we treat this like a real vacation and only practice once or twice a week, I don’t have my usual outlets. Not that I’m complaining about the break. Skye needed this. We all did, but her most of all.”

“She pushes herself too hard.” His fingers lift to rub over her mark on his neck. “I’m glad she has you all to help her find balance between work and her feelings of inadequacy.”

Pulling into a spot outside the restaurant, I shut off the ignition and open my door. “She has you, too,” I remind him before I let it close and jog to the sidewalk.

He takes in the tiny shop with an open expression. Basil & Birch occupies a corner lot. Rolling garage doors around the outside give it an industrial feel that gives storage unit vibes instead of sit-down eatery. According to the owner, they leave them open during the summer, creating an airy environment for drinking and enjoying the rice and noodle bowls they offer.

The interior is cramped with various-sized round tables, but it’s fairly empty this early on a Sunday. I wave to the young woman who works in the front—the owner’s daughter—and guide Caleb to the smallest of the tables in the back corner.

“Hello again.” She greets us as she slides menus onto the table. “You brought a friend today.”

“I sure did. Mia, meet my pack mate, Caleb. Mia’s father owns the shop. We’ve chatted a lot when I visited the past few weeks.”

She asks Caleb what he would like to drink before she disappears into the back. I’m not surprised when her dad pokes his head out of the window into the kitchen a few moments later.

“Where is your Omega?” He shakes his head in disappointment. They’ve both been insistent that I bring Skye to meet them.

He reminds me a lot of Emmett’s grandmother. Someone older who didn’t fall pray to the belief that designations are a curse that many of our great-grandparents passed down. His family revere Omegas, believing them to bring luck to business and family. In his eyes, Skye visiting his shop would mean years of success are headed his way.

Secretly, I think he is hoping that their presence will rub off on Mia and allow her to have an Omega child of her own. Life doesn’t work that way, but I love how respectful he is of the designations, so I’ll never tell him otherwise.

“I’ll bring her next time, I promise.”

“No extras until you do.” Waving his spoon my way, he goes back to cooking, perfectly timing his exit with Mia’s return.

“He’s so excited to meet her,” she promises before taking our order. The whole restaurant smells amazing already, and my stomach gurgles.

“They seem nice,” Caleb comments, though his brows are pinched. When I give him a questioning look, he explains. “Do they know who our Omega is? Is that why they want her to visit so badly?”

Pursing my lips, I consider it, but quickly brush the idea off. They’d have to recognize me to know Skye is my mate, and neither of them had any clue who I was the first few times I visited.

“Nope, they have no clue who I’m mated to. I’ve never mentioned her name. They come from a family like Emmett’s. One that quickly accepted Alphas and Omegas when the designations first appeared.”

Leaning against the back of his chair, Caleb laces his fingers behind his neck. A move that highlights the tattoo-covered muscles in his upper arms and makes me drool.

Focusing is difficult with such a mouthwatering Alpha on display beside me.

“They recognize how special Omegas are. They seem like good people. Skye will love them.”

“And the food.”