“Gossip does a lot of cardio in this town.”
“Be that as it may,” Lachlan said, unfazed, “the lass is planning—quote—a long walk in the forest to make sure everything’s how it’s supposed to be.”
Rex’s jaw tightened. “How far in?”
Lachlan shrugged. “No idea. Ye’ll have to ask her.”
He growled. Not how he had planned to spend his Saturday morning, but he never really got to do what he wanted, so what was new? “I’ll go see her tomorrow,” Rex said.
“Good lad. Now, shall we?”
The pool balls sat neatly racked. No magic was in the air. The wolf settled.
And just like that, the fight was over—or postponed for another night or another topic.
Chapter 2
Later, Rex would look back on this moment and mutter,Yep, this is when it all started going south. And by south, he meant both the situation going sideways and his self-control migrating straight below his belt. Yes.Thatsouth.
He was the Alpha, and that came with knowledge of people in his town, but she was basically a stranger.
They’d never talked, never even been in the same room or had any sort of proximity. Not once, since she’d come back to Mystic Hollow with her fancy degrees and tidy competence, and stepped into her grandfather’s shop as neatly as she seemed to do everything else. Like her grandfather before her, she was beloved by the pack and the town, by magiks and humans alike, in that communal way small towns functioned.
And apparently, she was about to march intohisforest and poke around in an issue she’d sniffed out.
That might be a problem.
So, on this late-spring morning, he’d made it a point to be standing in front of her shop ten minutes before opening.
And there he was.
Waiting.
The air was already balmy, June warmth mixed with pine resin and ripe earth. His wolf settled, scenting the breeze.
She arrived exactly five minutes before nine.
She parked the car. Opened the door. Stepped out.
And then the wind shifted.
Her scent hit him, grabbed him by the balls, and yanked. Sweet and clean with a little spark of lavender.
His wolf locked onto it like it had been waiting its whole damn life, and suddenly, he was cataloging everything.
Tiny. Five-foot-something. Light—he could probably lift her with one arm without noticing. A chaos of curls the color of late-summer wheat before harvest. A yellow dress that made his chest feel too tight, and a light jacket that did not keep his brain from wondering if her shoulders would be bare. Pretty. Very pretty. Sweet brown eyes that looked made for smiling. And that mouth—currently doing exactly that.
She noticed him. Questions flickered across her face, but she didn’t slow her steps. “Good morning,” she said, keys in hand.
His dick responded before his brain did. His mouth produced a soft growl instead of any known human greeting.
“Oh. Maybe rough morning?” she said, laughing.
Her laugh turned the situation from bad to catastrophic.
He couldn’t muster words. She noticed, opened her mouth as if to say something, thought better of it, shook her head, and unlocked the door. “I assume you’re here for me, so come on in.”
He followed.
