Page 58 of Chaos At Second Sight

If he had meant to smile, something failed along the way. One corner of his mouth had retracted, showing his white teeth. Hold on. Were they always that pointy?

Pamela swiped away a tear from laughing too hard. “Relax, they probably don’t know you two are mates.”

After chatting with my cousin a while longer, I slipped toward the bathroom, weaving through the crowd.

“Hello there.”

One of the McDougals sat on the pool table, elbows on his knees. He looked familiar. Short-cropped beard, reddish hair, a freckled face. He was wearing a wereball jersey.

“Can I help you?”

“You don’t remember me?”

I cast an imaginary fishing line into the sea of my memory. Nothing. “Sorry, but no.”

“If we play pool, you’ll remember.”

I tilted my head. Who is he? “I can’t. Bye!”

The stranger was still there when I left the bathroom, one foot up on the wall. “Shall we get married now, MacKenzie?”

Before I could answer, he bowed and caught my hand, brushing a quick kiss on it.

I snatched it back. “Excuse me!”

“I’m heartbroken you forgot me.” Then he sauntered off.

Realization hit. Paul! When we were twelve, he’d floated love notes to me inside little glass bottles down the river separating our packs. It was all innocent until Paul proposed to me while kissing my hand, and Uncle Clyde chased him out of Scotland.

“You won’t believe who I ran into,” I said once I slid back into the booth.

I told Logan the story. He didn’t laugh.

I kept chatting, only realizing how quiet he’d become when I looked up. He was deep in thought, frowning. The sight made me smile a little, until his next words. “So, how does this work?” He gestured between us. “Are we…”

“Yes.” His brows lifted. “I mean, since we’re mates, that implies we’re in one.”

“I was going to ask if we’re okay.” He hooked his arm around my waist, easing me onto his lap again. “After everything. My lies. Lucien.”

I shuffled to get comfortable. “That’s what I meant too. Yes, we’re good.”

“But that’s not what you said.” Logan inched closer with that lopsided grin of his.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You didn’t mean to say we’re in a relationship?”

I shrugged, but my heart swelled.

“I do mean that too.” His fingers tipped my chin. “I want us to be official, like mates usually are.”

My lips parted.

His eyes widened. “Not because we have to!” He lifted his hands. “And that’s not what I…I didn’t imply that we…” He scratched the side of his neck, sighing. “I mean…” He cleared his throat. “There is nothing more I want than to brand you—I mean mark you! Yes. But we can wait until you—we—want to finish this thing. Actually, we never have to, if you don’t feel like it.” He stopped, cursing.

He was so cute, and it was so new to see him struggle.

“What do you mean? What thing?” I smirked as I leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. I knew what he meant—completing the mate bond.