Page 21 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

Haley had tracked his movements, and now she pulled her gaze from his hands and met his eyes. “Uh . . . yes. That’s right.”

“And what did this letter say?”

“She . . .” The pink drifted down, covering her neck.

Not going there. He’d done enough to her neck.

She put her chin up—a move he was starting to recognize. “She invited me here to meet Benjamin.”

“To meet.” Something she’d said before clicked in his memory. “Earlier you said you were supposed to go on a date.”

“Yeah.” She tucked her hair behind her ear—a nervous gesture if ever he’d seen one. “Meet. Date. Whatever you want to call it. You really didn’t know about this?”

“No. But I’m asking the questions. Not you.”

She bristled, the blush fading from her cheeks.

And he didn’t miss it. Not one bit.

“How did you know to come get me?” she asked, ignoring his edict about him doing the questioning.

He faced forward and yanked his seat belt over his shoulder. Immediately, pain bolted down his left thigh. His quad spasmed, and he clenched his jaw.

“Are you okay?”

Without looking at her, he fastened his belt. “Buckle up. The mountain roads are rough.”

“We’re leaving? I need my suitcase!” She turned and fumbled with the door.

“Child locks,” he said.

She stopped her fussing and glared at him.

Unbidden, a surge of amusement burst through the pain fogging his brain. Whatever else she was, Haley Michaels was no pushover. “Wait here,” he told her, then got out before she could say anything.

Wind tore at his clothes and whistled against his jacket as he limped to the plane. He hadn’t thought to ask Joel about her luggage. He’d been too pissed off at being woken from a deep sleep after a fourteen-hour shift.

Haley’s bag stood upright at the rear of the plane. And bonus, it had wheels. The weight was no problem, but balancing the suitcase with his leg in such bad shape would have been a challenge. He popped the Tahoe’s rear gate and tossed the suitcase inside, then climbed back into the driver’s seat.

Haley watched him, a frown in her eyes.

“Buckle up,” he told her, reaching for his own belt.

She didn’t move. “Are you taking me to the bed and breakfast?”

“No.” He fastened his belt, put the SUV in gear, and headed toward the road.

“What?” She leaned forward, putting herself in his line of sight. “Why not?”

“Fasten your seat belt. I don’t want to hear the damn warning bell ding the whole ride home.”

Her voice climbed an octave. “Mrs. Rupert’s letter said I could stay at the bed and breakfast.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. She owns it.” He gripped the wheel harder. “Which is why you’re not staying there.”

She was silent a moment. Then, “Where are you taking me?”

“Pack headquarters.”

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