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Yes, urged her wolf.Yes. I want him to. It will feel so good.
Her other, saner side knew kissing him would be a really, really bad idea. For a bunch of reasons.
She firmly told her wolf to shut up.
But she was still disappointed when Lucas took a step back and glanced up at the sun.
“It was really nice to see you again, Malia,” he said. “But I have to get going. I want a shower before I have dinner and then read my girls a bedtime story.”
A shower sounded great. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining them standing naked together under a stream of hot water, all wet and soapy, as she ran her hands over his muscles.
A fresh wave of heat rose up her neck and rolled over her face.
Dammit, what is wrong with me?
Then his comment about girls and bedtime stories hit her. She tried to deny her spurt of disappointment at the thought that Lucas had a mate back home.He has a family? Daughters?
She sniffed delicately, and was puzzled at his scent.
He wasn’t mated. And he was attracted to her.
What the heck is going on?
There were so many maddeningly contradictory things about this dangerously attractive man.
“Drive safely,” she told him, holding together the tattered rags of her composure. “And have a nice evening.”
He nodded and courteously touched the brim of his hat. “You, too, Officer Malia. Be safe.”
As the white pickup pulled back on to the highway and drove off, Malia told herself that it was good nothing happened between them at the club last night.
After all, he was hanging out with Travis Bickham and Arnie Silvers, who were both known troublemakers and all-around lowlifes.
Bickham had shown up in Bearpaw Ridge with a different friend for every late summer hunting season for the past three years. Everyone in the police department knew that Bickham and his buddies were bad eggs.
And if Lucas Winter was choosing to hang out with people like that…
“You judge a man by the company he keeps,” she muttered, something that her great-uncle Bill, the town’s former police chief, always said.
Lucas Winter is probably the same kind of lowlife as Travis Bickham, she told herself.
So why were she and her wolf so insanely attracted to this completely inappropriate—and possibly unavailable—cat shifter?
Chapter 8
The rest of Malia’s shift was uneventful. She issued two traffic citations, calmed a noisy dispute resulting from a parking lot fender-bender at Wallace’s Ranch & Home Supply, and successfully tracked down and caught the Park family’s escape artist dachshund, aptly named Houndini.
The low-slung dog was fast on his feet, but he was also a sucker for the salmon jerky that Malia kept in the glove compartment of her vehicle. And he wasn’t bothered by the smell of wolf laced through her scent.
She clocked out, then went home to the cabin she rented from her uncle Michael on the Jacobsen Ranch a few miles north of town.
It was small, just one bedroom, one bathroom, and a combined kitchen/dining area/living room, but it was it was cozy, comfortable, and big enough for her. More importantly, it gave her a place of her very own while still staying close to pack and family.
After she graduated from the police academy, her parents had offered to rent Malia her childhood room in their home. But she and Rob had both agreed that Mom and Dad probably wanted their privacy. Sure enough, it hadn’t taken Dad long to convert their old bedrooms into an office and a guest suite.
Her brother was currently renting the big loft apartment above Cinnamon + Sugar. It had plenty of room to store all of his musical instruments, speakers, and other band gear. Plus, it allowed him to walk to his job at the Wildcat Springs BBQ, located just down the street.
Malia contemplated cooking, and decided she wasn’t hungry yet. Feeling exhausted from a long day at work, she decided to fix herself a dinner salad later. She could top it with some leftover roasted chicken.
