Page 30 of Fastlander Fighter

“For being the new biggest fuck-up of the Fastlander Crew.” Owen’s laugh sounded stupid.

“I hate you, man.”

“Gunner would kill you if you brought a human kid into the Crew.”

“I don’t give a crap what Gunner thinks or says.”

“He’s your Alpha.”

“He’s my idiot brother first.”

“So you’re going to pursue her?”

“What? No!”

“Okay, so you’re just going to go day after day, hoping she comes in here so you can what? Look at her?”

Captain busied himself stabbing the potato innards.

“Captain,” Owen said softly. “We don’t really get to choose. That was always the lie. The free choice of a mate is just something romance books make up. The animal pays attention to a female, and the man in us falls for them the rest of the way. You can’t stop thinking about her because your bear won’t let you. He’ll never let you, just so you know.”

Captain shook his head and felt awful. “She’s damaged. Newly divorced. Single mom. Trying to figure out her life, and we are headed for war. I can’t put her in the path of the Holland Pride.”

Owen offered an understanding smile. “Maybe you should make it up to her then.”

He huffed an empty laugh. “We both know what I’ll do.”

“Seduce her, and then ask her when she’s drunk on you.”

“Yep.”

Owen shrugged. “Make yourself do it right then. Fight the bear.”

“Just fight the instincts?” he asked low, feeling defeated.

“That’s option one.”

“What’s the other option?” Captain asked.

“Trust the bear.”

Chapter Eleven

She was getting the hang of her new job as a cashier at the local grocery store.

Sloane peeled off her work clothes and tossed them straight into the washing machine. Tomorrow she had a day off. Normally she would be excited about it, except it was going to be a lonely one. Ruger had gone back to Ryan and Naomi today, and now she had a week of silence in this little apartment.

She pulled on a pair of leggings and an oversized dark blue sweatshirt that had rips cut into it at just the right places. She slipped her feet into a pair of fuzzy black slippers and made herself an ice water, then stood in her kitchen looking around for some kind of inspiration for dinner.

Ryan had rubbed it in that he was taking Ruger for a “family dinner” with Naomi tonight, while her destiny was to eat yet another TV dinner.

Her phone dinged with a text message on the counter. Probably Ryan, sending some dumb picture of Naomi snuggling Ruger, because that had been the game. Maybe she should block him this week. But then what if Ruger needed something? Was six too young to get a kiddo a cell phone? She could maybe afford a cheap one in a few more paychecks.

Her phone dinged again, and with a sigh, she picked it up. The ID read Captain.

Her eyes flew wide and she fumbled to open the text message.

Dear Middleson,

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