Page 52 of Mismatched Mates

“Please,” I whispered to Luke—to anyone. I’d have left the room if my legs had worked.

"Jane," my mother's voice cut through the numbness. "Sweetheart, why don't you sit down properly? You look like you're about to faint."

I snorted, but perched myself on the sofa arm. "Faint? Please. Bears don't faint, Mom. We... strategically nap."

But even as I joked, my stomach was doing somersaults.

“I know it’s not something you usually comment on,” the interviewer asked. “But we were hoping you’d make an exception.”

It was as though my body had locked up, my thighs glued to the sofa. Everything about this entire situation made me want to run away.

Grant turned to the camera with the same half-smile he sometimes aimed at me. Like there was no space between us at all, just him and me and this moment. “Actually, I’m glad you asked me that,” he said. “There is something I want to say. Jane, if you’re watching this, I need you to know that there was never anyone else. The moment I first met you, it was over for me. Those photos are from ages ago—check the background. I know it’ll take time to trust me again, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I want to be with you.” His eyes seemed to bore into mine for a heartbeat too long. Then he turned back to the interviewer.

I zeroed in on Grant's face, as if I could flesh out the truth if I stared hard enough. He looked... different. Softer, somehow. Less like the arrogant wolf who'd propositioned me on our arranged first date, and more like the man who'd held my hand under the table at Luke's wedding.

“That’s all I have to say on the subject. Thanks for your time.” And with that, he abruptly ended the interview.

I sank back in shock.

Ages ago?

"Well, shit," I whispered.

Luke squeezed my shoulder. "You okay, sis?"

I shook my head, not trusting my voice. Because the truth was, I didn't know if I was okay. I didn't know what to think, or feel, or do. All I knew was that Grant Elston had just turned my carefully rebuilt world upside down. Again.

Victoria switched off the TV and took a seat. “I know it looks really bad, especially with his reputation,” she said. “But the pictures really were taken a long time ago. Publications are always trying to sensationalize a story. Especially in our small town, there’s not much to write about.”

“You guys certainly seem convinced.”

“You’re mates,” Luke said. “And, trust me, when the mating bond falls into place, there’s no way you’re interested in anyone else.”

I hadn’t been, but then, I’d always been strictly monogamous; I hadn’t been interested in anyone else when I was with Jason, either. But Grant had never seemed to form deep connections with other people—although the more I’d gotten to know him, the more I’d felt as though I understood his reasoning. It was just a layer of protection.

“He reached out a couple days ago,” Luke said. “Explained that the pictures weren’t recent and that he wanted to prove to you how much he cared, because he felt like he’d messed up in not telling you before.”

He’d shown it. Going to bat for me with Jason, turning up at my door with flowers and helping with the charity event. But he’d neversaidanything that made me certain his heart was invested.

“And I looked into it, but even before I did, I believed him,” he continued. “Because like I said, when you’ve met your mate, there’s never anyone else.”

“So we agreed to help him out and make sure you saw the interview,” Victoria said.

I looked around the room, at the boys bouncing excitedly and Mom sitting with her hands on her lap like this was a normal Wednesday afternoon and not some kind of come-to-Jesus intervention on behalf of the man who broke my heart. “And everyone knew?”

“We didn’t want it to be a surprise when—” A knock at the door interrupted Victoria, and she broke off. “He comes for a visit...”

Oh no.

“I think you should get the door, Janey.” Luke practically shoved me off the sofa. “I’ll put the TV back on. Come back in here when you’ve made a decision.”

Crap. My hands shook as I left the room. My senses kicked in as I approached the front door, reminding me forcibly that this was Grant. His scent, wild and piney, the aura that emanated from him, and the tight feeling in my chest that drew me closer.

There was no denying this feeling any longer.

I opened the door.

He looked just as he had in his interview, but his hair was windswept and his expensive car was slalomed across the driveway.

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