Page 23 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

“My territory, my rules.” He turned so she could see his good eye. “Got it?”

Her blue gaze was wide—and filled with a hundred questions. She opened her mouth.

“No more,” he said. “Not tonight.” He looked ahead once more. “I’m too tired. Anything else you need to know will have to wait until morning.”

She was quiet, but the weight of her stare remained.

He focused on the road. When Joel called him tonight, the last thing he could have imagined was being stuck with such an exasperating, persistent female.

An alluring female. One whose floral scent was still teasing his nose.

“I just have one more question,” she said. “Then I’ll be quiet.”

Well. There was that, at least.

“Until morning,” she added.

He bit back a sigh. “What.”

“Who else lives at the pack headquarters? Besides you, that is.”

The road stretched ahead, lofty Douglas firs on either side as they neared Elder Lake. Here and there, lights from pack members’ homes winked through the trees.

Bard knew what she was asking—and why.

He also knew he couldn’t put his answer off until morning.

He didn’t look at her when he replied. It was a chore to turn all the way toward her, sure, but doing so also meant having to see the look on her face when he told her news she probably wouldn’t welcome.

“Me, Miss Michaels. For as long as you’re in Elder Lake, you’ll be staying with me.”

5

Haley’s stomach lurched, and it wasn’t because of the crappy dirt road.

She grabbed the armrest built into her door to steady herself, then focused all her attention on Bard. “I’m sorry, did you just say I’ll be staying with you? Alone?”

He kept his gaze straight ahead—or at least she assumed he did. It was hard to tell with the eye patch.

“You heard correctly,” he said.

“I’d rather stay in town.”

“Not an option.”

Irritation buzzed around her brain, but there was an edge of panic, too. Which was silly. He was an Alpha, which meant he wasn’t an ax murderer or anything.

Right?

The panic nibbled a bit deeper into her brain. What was it Max had said about Bard Bennett?

Ah yes. He wasn’t the “warm and fuzzy type.”

Max. Why hadn’t she thought of him before? She leaned to one side and dug her cell phone from her back pocket. Remy was always after her to keep it in a safer spot. “Your jeans pockets are the size of toddler pockets.” Maybe he had a good point, but all she had to do was tilt her head and ask, “How many phones have you lost now? Is it five or six?”

Yeah, that shut him up. For a while, at least.

Out of nowhere, homesickness hit her like a thunderbolt. Her hand shook as she fumbled with her phone.

---