Page 50 of Scent of Home

“Codependency. Unhealthy. But by all means, go supervise the children.”

“You had it with your work,” Finn accuses and pats his dog's ears.

“I did. I do. To be fair, I depend on my job to keep me sane, to give me things I can’t get out of life,” I say with a saucy wink in Finn’s direction. Jeez, he looks good when he blushes.

“Like what?” Locke asks.

“Well, like challenges. Achievements. Milestones. Satisfaction. Gratification. All of that.”

“Ah. So, what normal people might get from relationships and family?” Locke says with a smirk.

I lift my coffee cup in salute. “Exactly.”

It only occurs to me half an hour later when we’re in the car to wonder why Locke seemed to understand what I was talking about with Finn.

Why had his eyes darkened? Why had his voice dropped? And why had his scent changed so quickly?

The children are loud.I have never had much to do with kids. They aren’t present in my life anywhere. I’ve never really thought about having them. It’s just been understood that I won’t. Career was far more important to me. Do I actively dislike them? No. I just feel neither for them nor against them. I just don’t see myself as a parent.

But I’m learning lots of things about myself this week.

I watch Locke and Finn run the race with the children, and it seems like a possibility. Could I put down roots in a town like this? Live out here in their insanity and be happy?

I can see it.

Bray’s leaning beside me on this fence rail, his hand on my ass, saying something dirty that makes me laugh, while Shane looms, his presence so strong and sturdy. Locke and Finn aren’t chasing children, they’re chasing our children.

It’s a different life. One I’ve never imagined.

But what would I do out here? I am a lawyer, a woman with the thrum of the city in my blood. What would I even do? Can I slow down? Could I find happiness in the humdrum of small town life?

I push it all aside. It’s a fantasy. In two weeks, when my holiday ends, I’ll go home, back to the corporate world and my shark-infested streets, and I’ll forget all about this place like a dream that fades as I open my eyes.

Besides, there is no Bray whispering dirty things in my ears, and Shane is far away, only the ache between my legs to remind me of how sturdy and strong his attention really is.

But Locke.

I watch him now, holding a football in his hands, racing away from the kids. Laughing. He’s something else.

My scent match.

We only get one, and only if we’re lucky. It would be hard to walk away from him, but he’s prepared to walk away from us.

He’s running,” I say to myself. From what?

I lean on the rail as the wind whips my dress around my ankles. It’s a cool day, with thick white clouds.

We’re up the other end of the small town today. There’s a huge park with tall trees and a stone stuck halfway out of the ground with a plaque on it. A man had saved the town from fire three times and then helped to train everyone in fire safety and the town defense. It’s apparently something that continues to this day.

There’s a weekend barbecue and another festival.

On the other side of this plaque is a huge oval where visiting football teams come to play. That’s where this event is being held. The grass is green and lush, and my heels keep sinking too deep, so I’ve stayed on the sidelines.

I sigh heavily. This has all happened so fast. A scent match. A pack. If anyone was ill-suited to a pack, it’s me. I like my space. All evidence is that I like to be alone. I’m abrasive and confrontational. Or so I’ve been told. Hell, the only person who came close to sticking around more than a day broke and started crying, calling me a cold, callous bitch.

I turn, though I’m not sure where I’m going. I just know I need to get out of here. There’s something feral and frantic inside, clawing at my insides, that same feeling that has hounded me all my life. Like I want to scream, but I know no one would hear me. I’m done. I just need…

Bray is standing there, staring at me with concern. He’s exactly what I need, and as soon as I lay eyes on him, everything inside me, that maelstrom of unhappiness, goes still. He spreads his hands helplessly. I don’t care; I drink him in. The singlet he’s wearing is white and shows off the huge muscles of his shoulders. He doesn’t have all the tattoos I’d imagined. Just one of a dragon on his left shoulder. He pulls me towards him with just a look.

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