Another blush painted her cheeks, and his hands tightened into fists in his lap. “I do feel surprisingly at home here. More than I expected.”
The simple words hit him with physical force. His wolf practically howled with triumph, recognizing the acceptance in her tone. She belonged here. With him. The mate bond pulsed with certainty.
“If you ever want company exploring,” he heard himself say, “or someone to show you more of the area, I’m available.”
He caught her hesitation, the way excitement warred with caution in her expression, and realized he was pushing too hard.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said softly.
“I should get you back.” He started the engine, hating the necessity but knowing he was walking a razor’s edge. “Don’t want to impose on your creative process.”
“Today was fun. Helpful.” She settled back in her seat with a contented sigh. “I can definitely use this as inspiration for my writing.”
The drive back passed in comfortable silence, though comfortable was relative when every breath filled his lungs with her scent and every glance revealed some new detail that made him want her more. The unconscious grace of her hands. The soft curve of her mouth that he was dying to taste.
When he pulled into her driveway, she turned to face him fully. “Thank you for the tour, Sheriff. It was exactly what I needed.”
“Rune,” he said roughly. “Call me Rune.”
Something shifted in her expression. “Rune.”
His name on her lips was nearly his undoing.
“Remember, I’m around if you need anything.” The words came out more intense than intended, loaded with promises he couldn’t voice.
She nodded, slipping out of the truck with fluid grace. “I’ll remember.”
He waited until she disappeared inside before allowing himself to slump back against his seat. Being near her, sharing even this innocent time together, had only made the pull stronger. His wolf was restless, demanding, ready to claim what belonged to them.
Denying the mate bond was futile. The question wasn’t if he’d claim her—it was when.
NINE
ELECTRA
Four days had crawled by since Rune’s impromptu tour of Blackpine, and Electra found herself checking the cabin windows more often than she cared to admit to see if his truck or his cruiser was coming up her driveway. She’d managed the practical necessities of settling in—grocery runs to the quaint general store where the elderly clerk had eyed her with curious interest, cautious exploration of the well-marked trails during daylight hours, and even a return visit to Millie’s diner where the woman had peppered her with friendly questions about her writing.
But no sign of the enigmatic sheriff who’d occupied her thoughts far too much.
He said to call if I needed anything,she reminded herself for the dozenth time, phone in hand as she paced the living room.Maybe he’s just waiting for me to make the next move.
She’d nearly caved three separate times, finger hovering over his contact information before setting the phone down in frustration. The last thing she needed was to get tangled up in some mountain romance that would derail everything she’d come here to accomplish.
Focus, Calloway. You didn’t move here to chase after some alpha male in a uniform.
Though the memory of sitting beside him in his truck, breathing in his intoxicating scent of pine and spice and something distinctly masculine, made her pulse quicken despite her best intentions. The way he’d stared at her at the scenic overlook—like she was something precious and dangerous all at once—had awakened parts of her that had been dormant for far too long.
Two years,her traitorous mind supplied.Two years since you’ve had decent sex.
She dropped onto the couch with an exasperated sigh. That was probably all this was—sexual frustration manifesting as an obsession with the first attractive man she’d encountered in months. Rune was undeniably gorgeous, with those gray eyes and that controlled authority. But she’d sworn off letting men derail her career.
The pattern was always the same. She’d meet someone, get swept up in the intoxicating rush of new romance, and gradually find herself putting her writing second to their demands for attention. Her last relationship two years ago had nearly cost her a book deadline. Tyler had constantly guilt-tripped her into accompanying him to every social event and weekend getaway, claiming she was “too anti-social” and needed to “live a little.”
Never again.
Her career had exploded after she’d finally cut him loose and recommitted to her craft. She couldn’t afford to repeat those mistakes, especially not when she was already struggling with creative blocks.
“Just focus on the book,” she muttered, grabbing her laptop and settling at the desk by the window. “He’s probably just another commitment-phobic man who wants the fun without the complications anyway.”
