I hesitate.
“I can’t just show up.”
“Why not?”
“Because she told me she doesn’t want a mate.”
“And?”
“And I told her I didn’t want one either.”
Reg stares at me like I’m the dumbest predator in North America.
“So now go tell her you’re an idiot.”
“That’s your advice?”
“Worked for a lot of people I know.”
I rub my face.
Unfortunately, he might actually be right.
Because sitting here while that damn app keeps announcing her location like some kind of romantic GPS?
Yeah.
That’s definitely not working.
My gaze drifts toward the road leading into town.
Toward the pink-striped awning of Agatha’s Ice Cream.
Where my mate is probably scooping waffle cones and pretending I don’t exist.
My Tiger stretches lazily inside me.
Hunt.
I sigh.
“Fine.”
Reg grins.
“There you go!”
I head toward the locker room.
“Wait! Rob? Town’s that way! Where’re you going?” he calls.
“To shower, fuckhead. I can’t go talk to a woman smelling like a damn animal.”
“Good plan,” he shouts after me. “Ice cream girls probably don’t like the smell of regret and ass-kicking.”
I pause in the doorway.
“You really think she likes me?”
